Violet felt awful.
Her head pounded with every beat of her pulse and it took her a few minutes to actually get out of the bed and onto her feet without her legs giving out. The thought that someone had taken her black flats off of her and placed them at the end of the bed made her a little uneasy, not for the convenience, but for the fact that she hadn't been aware when it was done. Then again, she had also been carried to a bed at some point, and the more she dwelled on people touching her the worse her headache grew.
As she shifted, her dress pulled on sore skin, stuck down with dried blood against her side.
Despite barely being able to conjure up a coherent thought, she dragged herself gradually over to the door and muffled conversation met her ears.
She tried listening, placing her hand against the wood of the door. Her broken one was tucked at the base of her neck against her chest.
She vaguely heard the name Lila being thrown around and could only assume it was the British womans name from the night before.
Or, she assumed it was the night before. The more she thought about it she had no concept of how much time had passed. How long had she been unconcious?
The tear in the side of her dress was carefully prised from her skin and below was a mottled, messy patch of skin with a woundabout a centimeter smaller than the knife had been; it was good, it meant she was healing gradually, but the skin around it was red and angry and she grimaced, gently placing the stiff fabric back down.
Violet didn't wait for a pause in what they were talking about, she just quietly opened the door and peeked out.
Five and Diego were standing with their backs to her behind a couch, the former with arms crossed, the latter resting on the back of it. Lila was casually sprawled on the couch facing the opposite way - and the woman had her head turnt towards what they were all looking at every so often while they spoke in hushed tones.
The small box television with the news channel playing out.
She averted her gaze and none of them noticed or heard her enter. After a few seconds if waiting and glancing around, she headed towards a bathroom with the door left ajar and went straight to the cabinet beneath the sink, nudging the door closed with her foot.
Her good hand prised the door open and she rummaged stiffly and silently through until she came across what she was looking for.
She turned over a box of bandaids in her hand before hunching over, a sharp pain digging up her side.
Violet got herself down onto the floor using the sinks edge and sat with her back to the now closed cabinet. She let out an exhale when some pressure was eased.
She carelessly pulled out bandaids of all sizes, flicking through until she grabbed the largest one about the size of her palm. Aiming to put it over her stab wound, she lifted the fabric of her skirt, but had to pause when she revealed the purple, gripping, finger print shaped bruises up her thighs.
Each one burned with her gaze and she quickly pulled her dress up further, peeling the backs of the bandaid off and covering the wound with her good hand, fabric held up nestled under her chin. When done she dropped the skirt quickly and covered herself, pressing down the sticky edges through the outside of her dress.
Her skin had been temporarily branded by anothers touch, and she had never felt more revolted. In them, in herself, in what she was.
She attempted to cover a deep graze over her knee and shins, the shallower parts already beginning to fade to healing skin and not needing covering. Already the bending of her knees when she had gotten onto the floor had reopened the scabby parts, and she had to wipe up a couple droplets of blood before she finished.
Her dull, wandering eyes fell forlornly on the shower - she wished nothing more than to rid herself of those tainted clothes, tear her skin off layer by layer and scald her body in boiling water until she would become purified.
But the gnawing anxiety creof in. She couldn't use someone else's shower.
This wasn't her place.
She couldnt count on no one waltzing in, destroying the privacy, and most certainly couldnt count on the fact she wouldn't sit under the steady, scalding stream for hours until her fingertips turned wrinkled and pale and the water ran cold.
And of course, she had no clothes other than that damned dress.
Violet couldn't count on anything.
Everything felt raw, unsafe, like she needed to hide from it all in order to disappear. The world around her was disjointed, off in so many subtle ways that only she could see.
She made the move to place another bandaid on her arm when her fingers turned glassy and transparent and her hand simultaneously travelled through her arm, as though it wasn't even there in the first place.
She withdrew it and it returned to normal. Her fist clenched and it stayed, and she managed to pull herself up, again with the help of the sinks edge. She avoided the urge to gaze at her appearance in the mirror.
Violet left the bathroom with near silent steps and no one turned or noticed she was there. They were all too focussed in on the news much to her dismay.
...- images of what Police deem 'defensive wounds' on the body of Mr Nelson...-
Violet didn't know why she did herself the torture of looking.
But then again she wasnt in the right mind.
She peered past the backs of Diego and Five, over the head of Lila to glimpse the image displayed on the black and white screen.
There was a very grainy photograph of a set of broad, pale shoulders leading up to the neck of a censored face. The skin was covered with dozens of raked lines scratched across it, some overlapping, some darker in the photo than others depicting beads of blood that had been drawn.
It wasnt graphic considering the quality of the photograph and yet Violet could see how uncomfortable it made everyone in the room.
And the censored pixels didn't mean shit, because Violet knew. She knew that face. And she knew that it was her now half broken nails that had done that damage.
It couldn't have been more than five seconds the image was displayed but it felt painfully drawn out.
When it was gone, the news reporter continued to speak, adjusting his stack of papers on his desk and she heard absolutely none of it.
Violet was suddenly all to aware of how filthy her hands were - the very thought of that pig's skin lingering under her fingernails made her want to rip them off.
The room was in heavy silence and Diego shook his head; Lila switched off the television while picking at the end of her checkered skirt. They all seemed to be taking it in.
The boys both had a seething, pent up rage inside of them evident by the clenched fists and jaws, Five gazing lowly at the coffee table between them and Diego going to rub the back of his neck.
There were so many things that could have been said that weren't.
Bile rose in Violet's throat and she span to run back into the bathroom, slamming and locking the door behind her in one quick move before promptly throwing up whatever was in her stomach into the toilet.
They all heard and rushed to the door in alarm.
She could hear her name being called, someone telling someone to calm down and something else said in a harsh, angry tone as she wretched.
The knocking on the door made her head ppund, but a flash of blue from her peripheral and it stopped. Her hair was scraped up so painstakingly gently that she couldn't help but let out a sob, coughing in between her being sick.
Nothing but fluids came up and finally, the immediate sickness faded.
On her knees, she cried and covered her mouth with the back of her hand, the hand on her hair loosening slightly. The figure behind her did not make move to leave her.
Five watched her with a lump in his throat, unsure what to do to help without physically embracing her to keep her from shattering like glass.
She leant down until her forehead was resting on the back of her hand pressed against the floor, shoulders shaking with silent cries, throat burning.
He opened his mouth to say something to her but she surprised him by cutting him off shakily.
"Get out."
She hated how her voice sounded so stern and cold, disregarding him trying to care for her, but she needed to rip her godforsaken uniform off of her body and shower immediately before she lost her mind, and she would not do that with him in the room.
Her hair was gently left to fall down over her shoudlers and down her back, and a small part of her regretted telling him to go. Only a small part.
"Are you sure?"
She nodded, wiping tears from her eyes and refusing to turn to face him. "Go."
After a few beats of thick silence, he did.
The very second she was alone in the room she frantically tore her dress off, fighting with the buttons that were left in tact, along with everything else. The shower turned on and she moved the dial immediately to the hottest it could go, not wasting time or allowing it time to heat up before stepping in and dragging the curtain closed.
The light wasn't on and tiny room itself was dim, bringing her a strange comfort. She didn't have to look at her body in clarity for what it was.
Her shaky fingers tore off the now futile and damp bandaids she had put on just minutes before, ripping them from her burning skin, ignoring the sharp pain it sent up her side as she did.
She rubbed at her skin with her good hand feverishly, scraping off gel-like, crusted blood from her as the crimson faded in the water at her feet. She reopened the stab wound at her side and let the blood mix with the hot water, finding it that she couldn't care anymore that it hurt.
Pain was her way of life. She was used to it.
The only difference with this type of pain was that everytime her nerves sent signals to her brain, she was tortured with the reminder of how she gained those injuries in the first place.
She raked her fingers through her tangled hair, picking through softening patches of blood.
How long was she in there, scalding her skin pink and irritating her wounds - soothing her aching bones - until she grew dizzy from the heat and was forced to step out?
She had no clue. And she did not care.
Her tired eyes fell on a folded set of clothes perched atop the cabinet that certainly hadn't been there before, and she paused. A towel peeked out from underneath it and she grabbed it, her gaze softening considerably.
Violet sat on the floor for a while, wrapped in the towel, tying her hair in a knot at the base of her neck as steam rose from her skin and the inside of the shower still. After a few minutes she could breathe clearer and began to change, sluggishly pulling on the jeans first.
They were loose and had rips at the knees, which if anything just prompted her to put on more bandaids - this time, ones that would be staying on to do their job. There was a large grey hoodie that looked more like it would fit Diego than herself, and she pulled it over her head immediately, tucking her arms through the sleeves, cautious with her broken hand and gently prising the sleeve over the damaged skin.
She practically wrapped herself in the fabric, embracing her arms around herself and tucking her chin down, feeling as though she could nestle herself into a corner and go back to sleep.
Her hands disappeared behind the sleeves and she was grateful for it, but the right was still in great pain as it healed slowly.
Violet went back to that box of bandaids and sat there, focusing on her side and watching the wound turn into nothing but a slither - the skin still angry and raw around it. If she stared at it too much she could feel her breath leave her again, like it had when the knife slid into her skin like it was butter. She covered it up.
She began fixing her fingers with lots of bandaids, wrapping her swollen knuckles and grimacing at the prickling sensation going up her hand, tugging them tightly with her teeth then sticking them down securely.
Her hair was still up at the base of her neck and she wasnt sure how she felt about it having her worn out face on show. She untucked long strands so that she could hide her face.
Her rubbish now in the trash, she grabbed her blood stained uniform and unlocked the door with slow, gentle movements to create zero noise and stepped out to peer around the doorway. Strands of hair fell in her face.
Lila saw her first and shot her a small wave and kind smile; she ignored it, subtly grateful for the lack of sympathy. She didn't need anyones sympathy or pity.
The wastebin by the corner of a desk caught her eye and she stormed purposefully over to it, and throws in her bloody, torn dress.
The noise alerted everyone to her presence.
Five stepped towards her, his harsh expression disappearing immediately.
She knew she looked like hell and stared down at the dress in the bin before tearing her eyes away, wanting nothing more than to set it ablaze and watch it burn to nothing but ash.
Out of the corner of her eye she spotted how he reached his hand out, almost grazing her arm but on instinct and without even thinking she took a step back away from him.
Their eyes met in a clash for a moment so intense that the room sat in still silence.
His hand returned to his side and slid easily into his pocket, almost as easily as the casual expression slid into place. "You okay?"
What a complicated question. Had she ever been?
Her dull eyes maintained contact with his own. Her fingers twitched at her side but she made no move towards him, and it was like a mental glass wall had been placed between them.
Diego scanned her appearance from afar, eyes darting between the two 'teenagers.'
"I need you to take me to the diner." she said with surprising steadiness.
Diego sat up straighter.
Five's expression cracked a little.
She knew they all knew it was where she worked. Her half year of life in Dallas had been spread bare for the city to see now the public had gained interest in the missing persons case.
No family, no known friends, no birth records in any hospital in the country, appearing out of no where and starting a life then having it ripped away - a little puzzle for police to try and follow.
She swallowed before continuing. "It's- it's not far-"
"-are you seriously considering going into work right now?" Diego spoke up, eyeing her doubtfully. "You're a missing person."
"I hadn't noticed." She murmured, swivelling her gaze to him.
She even surprised herself by not tearing her gaze away, holding his stubbornly.
She was tired.
She needed to get something she had left in her locker.
And she was going to go with or without Five's help.
"Why do you want to go there so bad?" Five asked slowly, giving her a look.
She swivelled her gaze to him and softened slightly, fidgeting with her sleeves. Now she was speechless, unable to find the right words that would convince him it wasnt a waste of time. It was a risk she was going to take.
Five scratched the back of his neck uneasily, catching eyes with Diego who appeared just as unsure. Lila rose an eyebrow watching the two.
Violet was growing impatient. She needed to do it before she lost the confidence and never got it back again.
Just one thing from her locker, that was all she wanted.
"I won't be seen." She whispered finally, turning herself invisible in a flicker and back to normal, her body returning in a faded wash starting from her hands.
Lila perked up curiously in her little corner on the couch.
Five fixed her with a stare that held a thousand unsaid words and warnings. Her shoulders sagged in relief when he finally dipped his chin in a nod and extended his hand to her, waiting for her to initiate the touch.
She grasped his sleeve just as Diego sighed.
"Don't be long."
The feeling like she was falling made her close her eyes on instinct, but a second later and it was over. Her eyes opened and she knew they were behind the diner, right where her bike would usually sit. The dumpster was on the opposite wall and hid them from the street view.
The sun was high in the sky and Violet had to take a moment to adjust.
He must have seen the look on her face as she froze.
"You don't have to do this. I can get whatever it is for you." He offered, knowing she would refuse anyway.
She shook her head, looking back at him for a moment before psyching herself up and allowing her body to fade into translucence. She walked right through the metal door.
Once inside, without Five, her palms grew sweaty.
Violet looked left and right before quickly switching to invisibility so she could make her way through the short hallway of only a few doors. In doing so she passed one to her left that was propped open, the one that lead to the diner floor, and she couldnt help but stop.
The radio on the counter was dialled to a low volume - the tune she couldn't name off the top of her head barely filling up the diner. Usually it was loud enough for the people on the complete other side to be able to hear.
Mrs Harrison was by the radio and had her hair down, unusual for her. Nuan walked up to her carrying a plate ready to be served and Violet watched them converse quietly, looking distracted and solemn.
She couldn't see Caroline or the rest of the tables from her angle but could only assume she was picking up where Violet had left off.
She'd never seen the place look so glum.
Violet forced herself to continue through to the store room and tried her locker. It was locked.
Pressing her lips into a thin line and watching the door, she let herself turn normal save for her good hand that appeared translucent and ghost like as it travelled through the locker.
She grabbed a bundle of fabric from inside, then after some thought, the envelope no bigger than her hand shoved all the way at the back.
She returned to Five using her invisibility, stepping out into the alleyway in her ghost form, almost making him jump as he paced to himself.
He stopped when he saw her, and his gaze softened when she returned to normal and saw what she was carrying over her forearm - his old sweater.
The black one with blue diamonds that she had now worn more than he ever had.
A tiny smile formed at that.
"I was going to say it must have been pretty important," he mused lightly, tilting his head at her. She looked down, holding it close, trying to hide the red tint to her cheeks. "We should go... before we get seen."
This time she held her wrapped hand out to him, and when he saw the bandaids he gently grasped her wrist, touch light as a feather. He didnt want to worsen her injuries.
She glanced up at him as they teleported back to the apartment above the radio store.
They appeared in the kitchen. Diego and Lila's voices travelled up the stairs as they walked out into the sitting area.
They exchanged a glance. It could have been arguing, but with them they couldn't be sure.
From the envelope Violet plucked a small wad of money and tossed the envelope into the trash, watching it land ontop her old uniform.
Five caught her lingering gaze as she put the money into her pocket in a bit of a daze.
"There's something you need to know."
She almost covered her ears with her hands like a child at hearing that. She turned to look at Five witheringly, eyebrows lifting sadly. The urge was so strong. Her head tilted uncomfortably and she grimaced.
She didn't want to know what was coming.
Five pressed his lips into a thin line.
"Don't." She mouthed, shaking out her tingling hands at her side.
She wants to ask him how long he's been here in the sixties, but her voice was beginning to tire. She knew it would just be more bad news. She didn't need it.
But Five knew she had to know. She had to be clued in on how serious this all was. How dire.
"We brought the apocalypse back with us."
She kept his gaze and for a brief moment they both looked so, so tired.
They were each looking at a mirror of themselves, expressions printed so similarly it was startling. The pinched eyebrows, the half lidded eyes, the down turned lips, the bruises under the eyes.
She didn't seem surprised, but sighed silently to herself, rubbing the space above her eyebrow.
Five continued, and the more he did the less animated his voice become.
"I only got here a couple of days ago and I've been trying to round up the family so we can deal with this all together," he stepped closer. She just listened silently, clutching the sweater against herself. He looked down at his feet. "I'm sorry I didn"t go looking for you first before anyone else," he said, hands in his pockets. She can hear a tinge of guilt and the what if's swirling around his head. She knew him. She knew what he was thinking. She looked at him sadly and just shook her head. "Diego was just the easiest to get to. Plus it's not that easy finding someone who's main thing is disappearing."
At that last point, she gave him a defeated smile, one that didn't reach her eyes.
He gave her an equally small smile back. It was bitter.
Her side twinged, and she exhaled slowly.
Five wanted to reach out to her but she had avoided it when he tried it last.
He decided it best to leave it for now.
Even though it hurt, she was grateful.
(The season 3 trailer has broken my mind and I cant wait for more content to write about :)