VIOLET
The buzzing of my phone wakes me after what seems like an endless sleep. My room is dim, the sun barely peeking in through the curtains at this hour. I begin to feel around the comforter in an attempt to find my phone, knocking it down onto the hardwood floor. Sitting up, I look at the floor to see where it landed. Instead, my eyes land on the pile of clothes on top of my laundry basket. My bloody jeans are on the very top as if reminding me that it wasn't a dream. No, it was very real. And it happened just hours ago.
"Violet, dear? Are you ready, I called to you almost two hours ago now?" My mother's voice trails up the stairs and into my room, the sudden noise makes me cringe. Despite my annoyance I throw my legs over the side of my bed, bending over to grab my phone. The brightness of the screen makes me squint, the numbers becoming blurred. As soon as my eyes refocus I can read the time. 6:34 P.M. My heart drops as I am reminded of the family supper my parents are hosting tonight which is supposed to begin at 7:00 P.M.
Harley's whining can be heard from downstairs, insisting that she wants to wear the purple dress instead on the pink. I can already hear the stress in my mother's voice as she attempts to get both her and Harley ready for supper tonight. Not wanting to stress her out any more, I push myself off of the bed and walk over my dresser. As I pull open the top drawer to grab a pair of jeans, I catch a glimpse of my face.
Why do I look different?
Something about my appearance is off yet I can't seem to tell what it is. Instead of pondering on the idea of me looking any different than I did last night, I grab a pair of jeans from the top of the pile and a shirt from my closet. As soon as my body enters the washroom attached to my bedroom it feels as if I am transferred back to last night. My body covered in bruises, fingerprints all over my thighs and the red marks around my wrist. The marks are still there, reminding me of what happened. Reminding me that he could do it again if he wanted to.
No, Violet. He won't do it, he's not near you anymore.
My attempt at reassuring myself was poor I realize as tears drip down my face, whatever was left of last night's mascara following behind. Wiping my tears, I put on the black top I had grabbed from my closet earlier. As I look at myself in the mirror, I feel disgusted and as if I've dressed too revealing. A sliver of my stomach can be seen, my jeans seem a little too tight.
Is this too revealing or am I just overthinking this all? Maybe it's not as bad as I think it is, but maybe I am right. It could be too revealing.
Walking back into my bedroom, I peel the shirt off of my body and grab a black knit sweater to replace it. The shirt that seemed too revealing hits a water bottle that was leaning against my pillow, the content of it pouring out onto my sheets. Shit. Shit. Shit. I quickly grab the water bottle and stand it up right on my nightstand just behind me. I peel back the comforter, trying to see if the water inside had made its way through the layers of my bed.
It's not real, you're at home. You're not at that house anymore. My throat begins to close in as I feel the wetness of the sheets, a scene which seems all too familiar right now. Ignore the fire radiating fire between your thighs that has just seemed to ignite, the dampness of the sheets, the bruises that seem to be more apparent now. Ignore it all Violet.
I leave the scene behind, my bed torn apart and messy. It's never been like that but I can't look at it any longer, instead I grab the knit sweater and throw it over my head and rush to put my arms through the sleeves. Rushing out of my room, my reflection looks back at me in the mirror. Black mascara stains my under eyes, concealer becoming blotching after being worn for too long. I grab a make up wipe that was left on the dresser the night before and wipe all of the makeup off before throwing it into the trash beside the door.
"Violet, this is your final warning to get downstairs. Your grandparents are pulling into the driveway." Her voice is laced with annoyance, her patience wearing thin. My bare feet slap against the hardwood stairs as I rush down and into the main foyer, just as my grandparents ring the doorbell. I don't bother to call out to Mom to let her know that I'll get the door, instead I turn the knob and plaster a smile across my face. I feel shame as I notice it's a fake smile, if it were me ten years ago I would've had even thought about putting a smile on.
My grandmother is the first to step in as the oak door opens, "Violet dear, you look amazing. So grown up now." She kisses me on the cheek as she switches her leather handbag to her left hand, grabbing a tray of food from my grandfather behind her. As she waltzes into the kitchen my grandfather hugs me, chuckling to himself, "I'll never become bored of that woman."
My heart skips a beat at his comment except I'm unsure why. I've never had a second thought when it came to my grandparents relationship but now the thought of anything romantic makes bile rise in my throat. I smile at him, offering him my arm as we make our way into the kitchen.
"You all take a seat, the lasagna should only take another minute or two. Calvin should be home any moment now, he called to say he got caught up in work." The sound of wood scraping on the floor makes me jolt. Eyes flicker towards me, questioning me silently until they realize I'm not going to say anything. I'm just going to pull out my chair and sit down acting like nothing happened. Because nothing did happen. Mom glares up at my as my grandparents take a seat in their chairs. Her expression reads nothing but seriousness, telling me to act natural and respectful while they're here. I nod to let her know I understand, that I'll be on my 'best behaviour' until my grandparents shut their car doors for the second time this evening. She tilts her body towards my grandparents, attempting to start a conversation with them about their latest event. My grandmother is estactic to tell her about it, she's always been into spilling every little detail about her life over supper.
The jangling of keys in the door interrupts their conversation, their voice coming to a halt. At the same time the door swings open to reveal my suited father, thumping comes from the staircase. Harley. My mind had been so caught up in the events of yesterday that I hadn't even thought to call for Harley once my grandparents had arrived. Her voice interrupts my thoughts, "Daddy! You're late coming home. It's nearly my bed time, why were you so late?" I glance at the clock hanging above the dining room window. 7:13 P.M. Thirteen of those minutes are part of Harley's "wind-down" time; a time in which she can't have any electronics or be outdoors, she must be in her pajama's sitting in her bedroom with all of her chores done. I glance at Mom, seeing if she has anything to add about Harley being up and dressed so late but, she doesn't. She doesn't say a word to anyone. Instead, she excuses herself from the table and claims she's going to check on the lasagna.
Dad walks in at the same time that she is leaving, her in a rush to exit the room while he stands to the side, the exact opposite of her. He waits patiently until the path is clear. Placing his briefcase in the corner of the room, he greets both of his parents with a kiss on the cheek before sitting down at the other end of the table, between my grandfather and I.
"How are you doing in school Vi? I haven't seen you studying much, you have four exams in June." My mother has never been able to stand silence at the supper table, especially if there is guests present. A groan escapes my lips at the reminder of exams arising so soon. Even if it's the last week of April my parents are hounding me to begin my studying. Last September I chose seven courses that have exams, three of them being at the end of last semester while leaving the final four to this semester. I allow the lasagna to slide off the spatula and onto my plate, "It's going great. I'd rather study at the library when I'm at school, helps me focus."
"Oh Flora, leave her be. She just finished a regional assessment! Violet knows how to manage her time." A smile spreads across my face as my grandmother defends me, even if it isn't much. My parents have always had the tendency to put pressure on me to do academically well, even if I already do exceptionally well. Looking up from across the table, my grandfathers cracked lips form into a slight smile — a smile that is so much more than a smile. Being pressure to do well in every aspect of my life has led to me doing anything to escape my house, often riding my bicycle over two blocks to my grandparents home. I find myself smiling back, the memories resurfacing in my mind.
For the most part, the rest of the evening went smoothly. Until it didn't. Out of no where a deep voice cuts through the conversation going on, a voice that belongs to the man at the head of the table. "Violet, where were you last night? You being at a party will get you grounded. Don't think that rule has changed because others have in recent years." My fork drops onto my plate, the clattering noise sounding deafening in such a silent room. My stomach churns and suddenly I feel the urge to be sick. I can't do this, I can't do this, I can't do this. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I shrug my shoulders mumbling an excuse about Emery being upset, that she needed me there. It's no where near the truth but it's the only thing my father will believe after breaking curfew one too many times in freshman year.
Silence ensues, the only noise being cutlery scraping against plates and being placed down on the table seconds later. To my right a deep breath sounds from Harley, her breath becoming heavy. "Violet kissed Elliot on the porch two nights ago."