They had missed Reginald at the Gala and the whole thing turned out to be unsuccessful; the Swedish brothers, as Five had described, were from the commission sent after him to stop him trying to fix the apocalypse happening. Again.
They got back and honestly, all Violet wanted was some food and rest - which she got, thankfully. But she was advised by Diego to avoid anything Elliot attempted to cook and after smelling whatever concoction he created last night, she was glad she took his advice.
It seemed she was constantly exhausted and falling asleep wasn't a problem. Waking up, however, was.
Five had gently tapped her arm to wake her from her curled up position on the couch to let her know he was going to get Vanya and Diego had already left for Luther; she could only imaging his disdain at that.
For a short while she would be left alone and even though Five appeared clearly hesitant to leave her, he knew if he asked that she'd decline to come with him.
Besides, she needed to keep a low profile considering her 'missing' status and the fact her other attacker was still out there.
In hindsight it would be safer for her there.
Violet hadn't argued and waved bye to him while rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
A couple hours of doing nothing didn't seem like much fun and she was still tired - maybe it was the stress of the last few days piling up on her shoulders, but even after making herself a coffee with two sugars, the caffeine did nothing for her.
Instead, the very act of drinking a nice hot drink made her want to curl up again and nod off.
To keep herself occupied she focussed solely on binding her stab wound together until the skin connected once more and she was left with nothing but an ache and a little pink line above her hip.
The mere thought of mending her broken digits made her want to cry - she hated the feeling of her broken bones moving beneath her skin to come back together and seal.
It was hard to explain - but it was like breaking it again but in reverse, and slower. It created immediate discomfort as they moved and pushed things around inside her body depending on where the break was.
The relief, she knew from experience, would be instant.
It was psyching herself up for the process of healing that was hard.
After a few moments of pacing and glancing at her heavily bruised, knobbly knuckles, she finally sat herself down on the edge of the couch and took a deep inhale before starting.
Automatically she brought her other hand up to bite her sleeve with a scrunched up face as her bones moved.
There was a crunch that made her stomach twist and a few audible clicks as the bones fused back together - when they were all fixed, a process that took about five minutes in total, she let out a relieved breath and shook her hand out.
The swelling and bruising would go down over the next day, but at least she could actually use her right hand now without immense pain and discomfort.
She bent and flexed her fingers. They were stiff and it felt a bit unnatural, but it would pass soon.
After, all she could think about was taking a nap.
She knew they'd be concerned if they came back and found her still sleeping but she was beyond caring now - if she needed more sleep, she would lie down and listen to her body.
She pulled the sleeves of her favourite blue and black, diamond patterned sweater over her hands and curled up again on the couch with a sigh. There was some trepidation at the back of her mind seeing the rest of her family after so long, and she finally nodded off with the anxiety making her stomach twist.
Unknowingly, a tiny frown remained on her face as she napped.
Her nap only lasted about forty five minutes when she was awoken by a sound - she jolted out of her sleep and looked around, pushing herself to a sitting position in confusion.
She had no idea what the noise was, she just knew it had been something that had woken her up.
After a quick glance at the clock she thought it was a bit early for her siblings to be back, especially since rounding them up was like rounding up a pack of hyper dogs without leashes.
Violet got up after a quiet moment of waiting and headed to the kitchen to her right to peer her head round the door, expecting Elliot to be there, assuming he was back from running some strange errand. Besides, the Hargreeve's didn't exactly have the knack for being quiet, much less all together.
A little frown returned as she saw the room empty and everything untouched, down to her empty mug by the sink.
For a strange moment Violet believed she had been imagining things but her paranoia made her turn back and peer over the railing to the store front downstairs.
No footsteps, no look of anything being disturbed.
She frowned to herself and jogged down one of the parallel sets of stairs to head towards the main door - all the glass was covered with half drawn blinds and the door itself was glossed out anyways for privacy. She checked the handle and when it moved easily without the pause of a lock holding it in place, her anxiety returned.
She was sure the others were sensible enough to keep the doors locked. Surely.
Violet backed away from the door slowly, giving it a strange look, checking that the blinds hadn't been disturbed when she heard a shuffle that made her spin.
The last thing she expected was for him to step out in front of her.
She thought this would be one of her siblings playing a stupid joke. Now she wished it was.
It was the same dirty blonde hair, shadowed jaw, cold blue eyes and this time it wasn't her paranoia. This time she knew she wasn't imagining it.
The colour drained from her face immediately.
"You are a difficult person to fucking find." He said lowly with a dark look in his eye. She glimpsed the white cast around his left arm under the same dark denim jacket he'd worn that night.
Her heart hammered. How did he know where she was? How did he find her? How did he get in?
Had that door been unlocked the whole time? She couldn't think.
Violet backed up, unable to tear her eyes away from him in fear. He mirrored her movements until she finally got the nerves to run - she span and sprinted for the stairs as fast as she could.
She made it halfway when a yell lodged in her throat - her ankle was grabbed and yanked back out from under her. She fell hard against the stairs unable to catch herself, jaw bouncing off the stone step with a smack. A copper taste met her tongue as she felt herself dragged down two steps before she frantically clasped the railing to stop him dragging her.
She managed to get her elbows on the steps and turned onto her back as his footsteps got uncomfortably close and he stood over her, sneakers either side of her knees.
All she could hear was her heart racing in her ribcage to the point she thought it might shatter.
"What's the matter? Not happy to see me?" He asked, tilting his head, leaning down to her as she had no where to shy away to.
This wasn't happening. Not again.
When he went ot get in her face she put her arm up defensively and he snatched her up by the wrist so hard it felt it could break.
Her lips pressed together in a thin line as he felt her trembling beneath his vice like grip, unable to get him off.
Her chest burned and her fists clenched. The stairs pressed bruises into her legs and back. A strange dizziness was making her feel sick, like she was replaying the same twisted events over and over again, only she wasn't seeing them happen - her body was feeling it.
Her skin burned hot.
His cold eyes pinned her beneath his towering form, eyebrows pinching with anger. "You killed my friend and you think you get to just walk away from this?" He sneered, now just inches from her face.
The back of her head knocked against a step as she tried to put space between them, a futile attempt.
What about what you two did to me? She screamed internally, eyes now burning with furious tears. Violet yanked at his grip and tried to push him away so she could get back on her feet - she would not let him get away with this again.
He fought back immediately to overpower which was easy from his strength alone in comparison to hers, but as he forced her back and his hands locked around her own defensive hands, she couldn't help but let out a desperate yell of frustration and turmoil and brought her knees up to kicks him back down the stairs.
His eyes widened as he toppled back, hands ripped from her arms and she didn't even waste time watching him fall - despite how much she would have loved to - she just got her elbows on the steps so she could crawl back up, turn over and get to her feet as she heard the thuds. Something clattered after but she paid no mind.
The moment her feet hit the steps she practically threw herself up the last bunch of them and prepared to make a beeline for the kitchen where she could exit down the stairwell - and she would have made it until she heard a distinct 'click' that made her skid to a shuddering halt.
Violet knew the sound of a gun well, sadly enough, and the mere thought of what he might do with it made her limbs lock up. No matter how desperately she told herself to keep running, that she would survive whatever he did, something in her mind made her freeze.
The ugly scar over her heart burned like someone had stuck a hot poker in it and the memory alone of that bullet knocking the breath from her had put her into some state of shock.
Violet turned slowly to look over her shoulder and what she thought to be was true.
He calmly walked up the remaining stairs with a slight limp, the darkest look in his eyes she'd ever seen and he pointed the pistol at her with the confidence of someone who had used it before.
She could survive the shot. She knew she could. But she couldn't move.
She never wanted to go through that pain again. She couldn't. Dying was horrific enough, but coming back from deaths door was a road she had travelled multiple times and it wasn't second nature or easy like everyone thought.
It was torture.
And what? Her siblings and Five would come back and find her dead body, bleeding out on the floor - or maybe he would dispose of her body before she could come back to life and they wouldn't have a clue what had happened, where she was.
How would she get back to them in time? Was she capable of that?
"You still not going to say anything?" He asked now a single step away from her and she stared stiffly off to the side at the floor as the barrel of the pistol nudged against the small of her back.
She remained silent, trying to control her breathing.
He leant closer to her ear and she wanted more than anything to tear herself away but only managed to tilt her head away from him. "Oh come on, I know you can talk, I've heard you scream like a little bitch." He taunted in her ear.
Toiling, burning rage and disgust at this pig of a man thinking he could mock her like she was a child filled her mind, all because she wouldn't say anything back. Her hands shook at her sides, clutching her sleeves tightly.
It was pure cowardice.
It did not make her weakly for not being able to talk back. She wasn't a child. She wasn't this guys little play thing because he was bigger and stronger than her.
He slowly walked around her, raising the barrel to head level when he stopped in front of her.
On instinct, Violet backed up a shaky step and he immediately pressed the barrel of the gun against the side of her jaw sharply, making her try to tilt her head away, teeth clenching.
"Don't fucking move."
Do it, she wanted to say.
She wanted to dare him. She knew that's what he came here to do, kill her, make sure there was no way she went ot the police and got him locked up for life.
Her eyes burned with tears, and she fought to keep them at bay to not seem weak in front of him, but knew ultimately it wouldn't matter because he would always view her as such. He thrived on it.
She watched him out the side of her vision, refusing to look at him directly in the eye.
He sneered close to her face while baring his teeth, "you should be fucking grateful we even considered having some fun with you."
A bitter tear slides down her cheek and she tried to keep her breathing even, the tension in her body making her shake more despite how much she attempted to hide it.
If he got any closer she was going to move whether she got shot or not, she couldnt help it and she knew she couldn't.
She knew at some point her fight or flight would kick in and she could only react on pure instinct.
"But you had to ruin it-" his breath was hot on her cheek and she winced.
Ruin it. Ruin it.
Ruin.
She had to ruin it.
All the frustration and rage toiled up inside her and without a single moment where she could consider what she was about to do, Violet snapped.
She grabbed the barrel of the gun and pushed it away against his grip, and it angled down as he fought against her in surprise.
A thunderous bang made them both flinch. Violet still had her grip on the barrel and heat met her palm. She felt his grip loosen on it in shock.
He looked down at her and heavy warmth spread across her chest from the centre, encircling her ribs and entire torso. Crimson spilled from a hole right in her sternum.
Violet let out a choked gasp that made a clamarous rattling sound as she inhaled; fluid filled a space in her lung immediately. Her hand let the gun and shot to cover her chest as blood continued to soak down her front. She gave a short, quick gasp again to get air in her clearly punctured lung.
She leant over and he stumbled back in shock, gun hanging loose in his grip as blood dripped onto the floor between them and her breathing made horrid noises that would chill anyone to the core.
The rattling, crackling sound coming from her chest was something from a horror movie.
Violet stared down at the blood dripping onto her socks and grit her teeth, heart beat slowing - she sluggishly lurched forwards and he must have expected anything but what she was about to do - she grappled for the gun as he stumbled away from her rapidly in shock.
They both fell backwards and shattered the glass coffee table under their combined weight. He landed on the glass pieces on his back and she fell on her side ontop of him, desperately struggling for breath as more was knocked out of her failing lung.
They both heard the gun clatter behind them.
Violet shoved herself weakly off of him and went for it - his hand latched at the collar of her sweater and as he fought to drag her back to him so he could beat her to it - a horrid, sudden ripping noise joined her racked gasping in the hollow room.
Her heart leapt into her throat and her eyes widened in horror as she fell away from him with her momentum. Her hands barely caught herself from face planting. She frantically clasped the gun and got herself to a stand, swaying as more blood left her body at the fast movements.
Her heart leapt into her throat as she looked down at herself.
Her torso was stained red like someone had spilled dark crimson ink down her front. Every shallow, shattering breath she attempted to take flared white hot pain through her sternum and ribs, all across her shoudlers in a spasm that nearly made her drop the gun. She clutched its handle with a white, trembling knuckled grip.
The back of her throat felt thick and sticky, copper coating her tongue and making nausea rise in her.
Violet did not care for the shallow, rattling breaths she could barely take in, covering the wound with her other hand to make it easier.
Nor for the blood she was losing - blood didn't phase her - she could slash herself open and still make it to dinner.
And pain, God, it was unbearable - but Violet had danced with agony hand in unlovable hand into the nights content - and though it was killing her on the outside, it was a feeling she had come to know like an old friend. She stood side by side with it as such.
What was killing her, what was tearing her apart completely, was the huge tear in her sweater leading from the neckline, halfway down her arm. Her wide, tear filled eyes ran kver the frayed cotton and stitching, revealing her pale skin dotted with splodges of her own blood and the black thin vest beneath it.
And suddenly, there came a new pain she couldn't ignore.
The incensed rage in her lit like a spark. It burned like a volcano ready to erupt, her hurt aching for another reason now, not because of the pain or the panic, but because of what he had done.
Of all he had done to her, of all he had gotten away with, of all he had destroyed in her life. It was an amalgamation of things.
Senseless violence and righteous anger.
Suddenly, her mind was in utter clarity.
Eyes wide and furious, her insides patched themselves over quicker than they ever had been able to. Her shattered sternum lodged itself back together with sickening crunches and clicks that made her whimper and inhale sharply, whole body shuddering. The wound closed up, skin and muscle and tissue stitching itself together with invisible thread. Her ribs shifted.
It was a quick agony to mend herself. And she did, like a broken doll.
And when she was done, she took a deep, sharp inhale and removed her trembling, bloody hand from her nonexistent; her body shook like a leaf.
Her eyes went down her hand to her arm, where the huge tear ended at a spot around her elbow.
And like the thread trying to keep her jumper together, something inside of her snapped.
Violet looked up at him slowly through a curtain of her hair, teeth stained red with blood she had brought up.
"What the fuck?" He whispered in horror, dragging himself to a cautious and shaky stand, unable to tear his wide eyes away from her healed self.
With every new breath she was able to take, her mind felt fresher.
And what liberation it was.
Violet did something he didn't expect and threw the gun across the room and over the railing. It clattered loudly downstairs and he flinched, looking after it in startled confusion.
"What the fuck are you?" He asked, and she didn't give him time to collect himself in his confusion.
She stormed over to him and this time, when his hand went up on instinct to defend himself she latched her hand around his wrist.
His body shuddered and the colour drained from him. From his throat came a choked groan. He was suddenly not able to break away, and she watched him with burning eyes as his mouth opened and he went to clutch his chest. He fell to his knees and managed to get a cry of pain out, now shaking, grappling at his chest where the pain sat, trying to get it away in his sudden madness.
The pain flowed through his body in waves like electricity.
Even though she was now in control, hot tears still rolled down her face.
He soon began yelling in fear and agony, sputtering and gasping for air between shouts and pleas.
"Stop! Stop it- make it s-"
She only gripped his wrist tighter and sneered. "Go on," she said in a surprisingly calm tone. "You almost made a full sentence."
He looked up at her in terror.
He hunched over in absolute agony, head blaring, nerves screaming. His other hand went up to clutch his head as he sobbed and cried out for it to stop.
Just like she had that night.
And just like they had, she didn't listen to a word of his pleas.
Violet began dragging him ruthlessly by his arm towards the staircase. When she glanced at him, she saw fresh blood polling in his ears that eventually dribbled down his neck.
Halfway there, his body went limp and his gasps went silent. She continued dragging his dead weight with all her might, gritting her teeth.
She dragged him instead by the back of the shirt down the stairs one by one. His body hit every step and the railings as she did, enjoying the thuds as blood began pooling at the back of his head.
As she struggled, her tears became ones of frustration. The irritation was unbearable.
She wanted to scream.
She looked down coldly, almost emotionless as he crumpled in on himself at the base of the stairs and dropped her hand to her side.
He didn't move.
She reached a hand down to tap the back of his shoulder and within seconds he was awake and scrambling to get away from her, leaning his body on the stairs, looking up at her in fear and breathing heavily.
His skin was lined with a sheen of cold sweat.
"Please stop!" He yelled, begging, putting his hands up.
He could barely catch his breath, wondering what was going to happen, as the tables had been turned so quickly his head was spinning and struggling to keep up.
Violet stood above him, listened to him struggle to cope with the daze his head was in and watched his diluted pupils flit around her.
She did as well and spied the gun tucked under one of the wooden television stands. While glancing down at her blood stained hands absently she moved to go and get it, sniffling and wiping some of her tears; she knew it wouldn't do much.
She could hear him try and scramble to a stand with her back turned but fall back against the stairs. She grasped the gun and went to walk back over to him.
He watched her fearfully as she approached, fists clenching.
"What- what are you doing?" His voice trembled. He eyed the gun uneasily.
She watched him coldly and unloaded the clip, throwing it and the pistol to the side. His body sagged in some sort of relief at that, but when she crouched down in front of him, he stiffened.
She stared down at him for a solid moment and numbly went to reach her hand out to touch him and he actually flinched.
She paused. And something sick within her wanted to smile through the tears.
Thats how it feels, she thought to herself absently.
"Are you scared?" She whispered blankly, lips crusting with dried blood.
He didn't respond, eyes darting between her red lined, glassy eyes and her outstretched fingers.
She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes.
Violet quickly snatched up a fistful of his hair at the back of his head before he could yell, she simply slammed his face down against one of the steps, rendering his sounds incomprehensive.
There was a deep crunching sound and a horrific scream of pain muffled by blood spilling into his mouth. His hands tried to prise her fingers away at the back of his head and his screams turned into muffled groaning as he tried to put his hand on the stairs to steady himself. She forced him down again as blood stained its surface. It dripped from his nose and mouth.
Her arms began to ache with the sheer force she was using, simultaneously worsening his pain through her grip.
She could feel his body turning weak as he fought back against her less and less, and she was in such a daze that she didn't even hear the door behind her open.
--
There was something disturbingly liberating about beating the person who attacked you half to death and then healing him, just to do the same thing all over again so she could see him suffer.
It seemed fitting, considering the suffering him and his friend had caused her. It wasn't fair. And the police were already trying to spin some cover story for the 'nice, prospering young boy' who had died - that was how the world worked. It wasn't fair.
So Violet felt she would deliver some of her own justice by herself.
She was done letting people walk all over her - letting them go without consequences for taking advantage of her quietness, of her shyness, of things she had no control over.
It wasn't fair.
So Violet Hargreeves decided it was time to start taking some of that control back.
And she only wished that she had left Max Nelson alive as well, only so she could see him suffer as much as he deserved to under her power.
That would be her one and only regret.