You asked for it.
WARNING: update's longer than my ex's dick and unedited. Sorry.
"Who's Mary?"
The clacking of James' keyboard paused for the briefest of seconds before they resumed their puttering and pattering.
"No one you should be concerned about," he muttered under his breath. Violet sighed and leaned back on her bed with a thud.
Due to James' insistence, James stringently remained by Violet's side during her "recovery" at the hospital. Although Violet couldn't say that he made a good conversational buddy as he was constantly on his laptop or phone most of the time, she had grown used to the muted sounds of him at work. In some ways, she even found comfort in it.
At least it's better than when he's on his period.
Violet also noted the change in James' attitude towards her since that night at the Halloween party. His responses to her questions were a lot more straightforward, the tone in his voice a lot more softer, and his hostility towards her had all but diminished in their volatility. He was almost like a different person.
And since James had become more compliant--docile even--to Violet's whims, Violet couldn't let the opportunity to resolve some mysteries slip past her.
"I keep on hearing her name whenever I'm around," she -half-lied. "Can you please tell me at least one tidbit about her?"
The snapping of a laptop being closed shut made Violet flinch, but when she turned to James he had simply switched his attention to his phone.
"Don't bother," he said blankly, his fingers fluttering over a tinier keyboard.
Violet jutted out her lip and glared at him. Looks like I have no choice.
Curling up on herself and taking short, stunted breaths, Violet held a hand over her wound and groaned in "pain".
"What's wrong Violet? What's wrong?" she heard after hearing the scraping of a chair and the sound of a phone dropping to the floor. Violet smiled inwardly. You're such a cliche it hurts.
Settling Violet back onto the bed, James took a towel by Violet's bedside desk and wiped off the sweat that collected over Violet's forehead.
"Don't stress yourself like this," he said, his voice strained. "You won't get better this way."
Violet shot him a look. "Then tell me. Don't hide things from me."
Her step-brother stared at her, his mouth stretched out into a fine line and his eyes a vehement shade of navy. Violet returned his look with one that was as pointed as a rapier and the two clashed until James relented and sighed in exasperation.
Combing a hand through his pale hair, James finally painted the portrait of "Bloody Mary".
"Mary was Gin's twin sister," he began, "and even though she was the younger twin, people thought she was the older one. Always."
On the bed, Violet wrapped her arms around bent legs and watched James entranced. All she was missing was popcorn.
"That girl," he continued, "was...something. Something else. She was vengeful, petty, full of hate, and wild. Gin was actually the calmer twin if you compared them side by side."
"What did she do?"
James took a noticeable pause before he went on. "She did a lot of things. Terrible things. It was like she was born without any inhibitions. She certainly didn't have any in her 'relationships'."
Violet raised a brow, her face unimpressed. "Are you calling her a slut?"
"Well, she wasn't a saint that's for sure," he quickly conjectured. "It was because she was Gin's sister that she was able to get away with murder. She was under his protection."
"Then how did she die?"
James inhaled a sharp breath like that question had maimed him. "She killed herself," he finally said without an inkling of sympathy.
Violet had heard him say that Mary had committed suicide during Gin and James' vicious spat, but it wasn't until James admitted this fact to her personally that a memory lodged in the back of her head got jogged.
You look just like Mary.
"Did she hang herself?" she said without thinking.
James whipped his head to Violet, his nostrils flaring and his eyes raging in anger. "Where did you hear that?"
The response to her question made Violet draw her bed covers over herself out of instinct. Immediately noticing her alarm, James extinguished his outburst by covering his eyes with a shaky hand.
"I need to go to the bathroom," he whispered. James headed towards the door to leave Violet alone in the white-washed room with her rattled nerves, and her even more rattled thoughts.
XOXO
Violet was able to "return" to school after trudging through three suffocating hospital scenes with her cumbersome, overbearing step-brother. She breathed out a sigh of relief when she found herself in the pallid walls of her English Literature class and was delighted to see her glasses-toting Michelangelo flexing his broad, well-built back as he scribbled poetry quotes on a chalkboard. Seeing Mr. Reinhart at work was a lot less stressful than being with that sober killjoy of a Rodin that brooded over her bedside like a patient reaper.
Pretending to write notes in her notebook, Violet drew hearts beside the names of the four CPs in her notebook's ledger:
Jack: 💜💜/5
Gin: 💜/5
Mr. Reinhart: undetermined
James: undetermined
Violet figured that her interactions with the four CPs would decrease after her return; Mr. Reinhart seemed to be perpetually busy with school (despite graduating from school and being a goddamn teacher), James was probably entombed by the work he neglected while he was doing fuck-all in the hospital with her, Gin was aggravated by her "stupidity" even though he finally "showed" her some affection through his LG, and Jack...She had no words left for Jack. She was done with him.
She let out a sigh that was not of relief. Cut me some slack man.
A light tap on her head pulled her back into virtual class and she looked up with a hand placed over the affected spot.
"Get your head back in the game Violet," Mr Reinhart said with a rolled up dictation book in hand and a smile that was as radiant as a summer's sun.
Violet smiled back up at him, her eyes filled with stars. You're still my favourite.
Her moment with Reinhart didn't last long however as the door to the classroom slammed open, the appearance of the intruder prompting the entire class to collectively gasp. Violet leaned over her desk to see who it was, but once her eyes caught sight of coal and metal her breathing hitched and her heart rate sky rocketed past the stratosphere.
"Sorry I'm late for class," the boy drawled without remorse.
"You've been 'late' for 19 of my classes Mr. Dolor."
Mr. Reinhart had turned away from Violet to see who it was at the door, but she knew without seeing his face that her teacher's brilliant smile did not dim one bit.
Violet couldn't bring herself to look at Gin as he dragged his feet into the classroom and stopped by the occupied desk right beside Violet's. The NPC occupying that desk immediately vacated his seat without Gin breathing out a word and the boy with eyes as gray as the piercings studding his ears plopped himself on the chair like it had been empty.
Once the class started to grind its gears and function again, Violet threw caution to the wind and took a small peek at her new seating buddy. What she got instead was the camera eye of his phone.
"You're cute when you're pretending to be a good student," he said, as the audible click of a camera captured her wide-eyed expression.
"Put away your device Dolor or I'll sell it on eBay," Mr. Reinhart warned from the front of the classroom.
XOXO
"What are you doing here?" Violet whispered to Gin. Mr. Reinhart, with his back to the class, was preoccupied with explaining the differences between stressed and unstressed syllables to the partially attentive class.
Leaning closer to Violet with a crooked grin and gleaming eyes, the boy answered her with a buttery smooth voice. "There are two things that I don't understand. Sonnets and you. So, since I'm a student studying at this godforsaken school, I might as well burn some of that tuition money and make good use of the fine education that I'm offered here."
Violet smiled, more relieved than wary of Gin's sudden change of heart. "I know. Mr. Reinhart is quite fine."
"I was referring to--"
"Now that we got the basics of rhyme schemes out of the way," Mr Reinhart broadcasted to the class, "we're going to dive right into some Renaissance Romance poetry."
From the corner of Violet's eye, Violet could see a dangerous glint in Gin's eyes--the one that shone before he laid waste to someone's entirety without moving so much as a finger. But before she could avert the disaster that was sure to come, Gin gingerly raised his hand up in the air.
Mr. Reinhart, unaware of the landmine he was going to step on, beamed when he noticed his usually disinterested pupil finally participating in class. "Mr. Dolor, you have a question?"
"Yes, but it has nothing to do with poetry, but with the idea of romance."
The class grew deadly silent, their attention zeroed-in on the inconceivable interplay between the two legendary CPs.
Mr. Reinhart's smile grew as Violet's heart shrank. "Go ahead! I love to hear your thoughts on the subject," Mr. Reinhart encouraged.
Gin's grin swelled in response to Mr. Reinhart's invitation, but it was in no way as friendly as his teacher's. "Are you familiar with Lolita, Mr. Reinhart?"
Violet felt herself perspiring even though the question wasn't directly aimed at her. What is he trying to start?
"Ah, Nabakov's magnum opus. I was briefly exposed to the piece back in my university days."
Gin slipped his hands into his pockets and sat back on his chair like he had already claimed Russia. "I just want to know your thoughts about the relationship between the narrator of the book and the young 'Lolita'. Do you think it's romantic, the relationship between an older man and a much younger girl?"
Violet tensed in her seat. Oh. No. You. Did. Not.
Nervously, Violet slid her eyes back to her teacher and was surprised to see his sunny persona still intact. In fact, he looked delighted.
"While I do agree that the content of the roman is quite salacious,' he said, the smooth baritone of his voice unfaltering, "it's sad that the book is mostly recognized for its infamy than its genius."
"What's so ingenious about a book in the perspective of a pedophile?" Gin challenged, his posture straighter and his easy grin lowering to a scowl.
Mr. Reinhart smiled again at Gin, but the way it looked to Violet made her do a double take. Did he just smirk?
"What's ingenious about Nabokov's book is its narrative. The way the story is told is just as important as the themes that it presents. It's kind of like picking up a book and expecting it to be rampant with cliches and other titillating fodder. But instead of finding those things play out as expected, you get something more intriguing, more profound than what you first expected."
"What could be so 'profound' about a book like that?" Gin muttered to which Violet rolled her eyes. Just admit defeat already.
"Well," Mr. Reinhart replied, "the book is told through the perspective of a delusional, depressed man who asserts his desires onto a figure. If you dig deeper into the man's narrative--his thoughts, his feelings--you'll realize that he never loved the girl, 'Lolita'. He loved the idea of her in the way he disregards her desires while at the same time placing her on a God-like pedestal. Lolita was never a story about love. It was a story about delusions, obsession, and the eventual disillusionment that followed.
"The book is also a prime example of an unreliable narrator," he added. Then with a question she felt was directed at her, Mr. Reinhart asked, "So the question is, can we trust the protagonist of this story?"
"I don't know," Gin interjected, unsmiling, "I think the girl was feeding into Humbert's delusion as Humbert was feeding into his. She took advantage of him to survive but she made good use of him when she didn't need to."
Mr. Reinhart, along with Violet and everyone else in class, raised their brows in unison.
"You read the book Mr. Dolor?" Mr. Reinhart said, doing nothing to alter the surprise in his voice.
Gin smiled a knowing smile. "I picked it up thanks to a friend's recommendation."
"You have friends?"
Gin's jaw tightened as Violet ducked her head into her elbow to smother her cackling. "Well, Mr. Reinhart," Gin said through his teeth, "what merit does this stupid story have? Whose the guilty party in this case?"
Leaning over his desk with a smile that was all too cheery, Mr. Reinhart ended the discussion in true English teacher fashion.
"That's the beauty of a story like this. You don't know who's the victim and who's the predator."
XOXO
"Slut."
"Whore."
"Bitch."
It was surprising to hear those words thrown her way when she returned to school from the "hospital". Normally, the NPCs left her be--with the small exception of that blonde triad--and fulfilled their existence as background decorum or the occasional plot accessory.
The hostility towards her could've been due to a number of factors; her "friendship" with Jack ending, her increased closeness with James, the news of her saving Gin's life back at the Halloween party. It was like the circumstances of her virtual life depended on her relationship with them rather than the other way around.
"I want to get stabbed for Gin too," Violet heard a female NPC whisper to her friend as she walked past them. Then go get stabbed for him and die you dumbass.
To be honest, Violet never thought of "slut" as a word deserving of acrimony, nor did she thought the same for "whore" or "bitch". She actually quite liked the word slut, how slippery it felt as it slid down her tongue to graze at her teeth which she bore in a smile whenever its sound crept into her ears. It was a beautiful word. A powerful word.
And it was never a word she would tack onto someone like Jack. I'm a slut, Violet thought to herself as her shoes clicked on the tiled floors of the decrepit abandoned arts ward. But at least I don't keep evidence of my conquests and threaten to expose them for fun.
Violet thought about how Gin inducted her to the dark side and wondered why she wasn't as bothered with Gin as she was with Jack. They both got by with blackmail. Violet herself was personally coerced by Gin and not Jack with blackmail. So why was she skipping her way across a grimy hall to meet the Devil himself and not her childhood "sweetheart"?
When she popped open the art room door to reveal Gin waiting for her on the couch with a smoking Malboron wedged in his ever grinning mouth, she understood why. With Jack, he hid his monstrous, vengeful ego behind a facade that was as fake as artificial sweetener. With Gin, he never held back his true, bitter self from anyone that experienced the savage storm that was himself.
You either took Gin down in one go, or you didn't at all. Maybe that was why Violet liked him more, as a character.
"What took you so long, Love?" Gin said as he patted on his lap for her to claim. "Your throne awaits you."
Taking her blazer off, Violet sauntered towards Gin, her eyes cold.
A queen is only ever as good as her king, huh? Bullshit.
"Sorry. I was thirsty," she cooed as she compliantly straddled over Gin's lap. She added weight to her lower half as she sat on him, all the while pretending to be ignorant of what she so very much intended to provoke.
Flicking his withering stub to the side, Gin slipped his hands around Violet's waist and pulled her towards him. "If you're thirsty," he said before pushing Violet down onto the couch, "then I'm parched."
Looming over Violet with the weight of his body pressing onto hers, Gin went in for the kill.
Their lips connected smoothly at first, but once they tasted flesh they soon became rabid and voracious as the friction between their bodies heated them into a frenzy. Clawed hands knotted each other's raven hair in an attempt to shove in as much of themselves closer to the inferno of their burning bodies.
Gin began grinding his hips on that sensitive part between Violet's legs, making her body wreath underneath him and sending her spiraling into chaos. He barely gave Violet any space to breathe, let alone moan aloud, and she found herself close---to raising a white flag in defeat and giving herself up to the ardent lust that intoxicated her senses and pride.
Her hands were creeping towards the clasp of her skirt when she was pulled up and placed back onto her original position on Gin's lap. Violet blinked rapidly like she had been roused from a deep sleep and found Gin grinning up at her with a satisfied smirk.
"You know," he said his voice husky and hungry, "I was inspired by that English class we had together the other day."
Violet grinned, recalling the memory. "What? You're going to go for underage girls?"
Gin rolled his eyes and leaned back on the couch with his hands placed on Violet's hips.
"I was wondering what he meant," he started, his hands sliding up Violet's body before resting at the small of Violet's back, "about not knowing who was the victim and who was the predator."
Well, Violet thought nervously to herself, I am a twenty-something year-old RL gamer romancing a barely legal virtual boy for fun. Oh God, does this count as statutory rape?
"Have you ever been with older women?" Violet said, the words tumbling down her mouth.
Violet's blood pressure fell when she noticed Gin's expression becoming stony. "I have. Why?"
"Um, uh, j-just asking."
Gray eyes flicked to hers before a force at her back propelled her into him. In reaction, Violet braced herself and stamped her hands onto the couch behind Gin's head.
"Isn't this what you wanted?"
Looking down, Violet discovered that the proximity between her face and Gin's was negligible. Again.The full force of Gin's eyes made her shiver with fear and excitement, but never wanting to relent to the fancies of a bad boy (like a good protagonist should), she kept her composure.
"Whatever do you mean?"
Gin's face softened however his eyes were as relentless as steel. "Didn't you want to win me over? To seduce me? To conquer me?"
Did I make it too obvious? "I wanted fun. And information. But if you're offering me more, you would make a nice bonus."
Breaking into a vicious smile, Gin leaned his head back once more, this time pulling down his popped collar and exposing his sinewed neck to Violet. "Then go ahead. Eat me."
Violet gulped, her mouth drying while something else in her body was moistening. It was normal, almost law, for female protagonists to be submissive receivers of domineering male characters--something which Violet had struggled with since she treaded into the realm of sexuality. She learned to swallow it like a pill, even embrace it, so long as it accomplished what she set out to attain. Pleasure. Entertainment. Victory.
But when Gin offered himself to Violet, she wanted to dive head first and feast. She knew it was a trap, like all the others he had set for her before. And she knew it was a test from the maddening glint in his cold, silvery eyes.
A compulsion deep inside of her wanted her to give into unbridled lust with a sexy virtual non-being.
A cynical voice leashed her conscience to the side and told her to be obedient to her dignity and her wilting pride.
Slowly, she leaned in and pressed her lips onto Gin's neck. Sucking his skin between her teeth, Violet slid a hand down Gin's shirt to caress the smooth tract of his skin--and to illicit a delicious hiss of pleasure from his swollen lips.
Violet licked the coin-sized bruise with the tip of her tongue just before she wrenched her hand from Gin's shirt and clapped his face between her hands.
"I'm done for today," Violet said cheerily, her face an angelic ideal of innocence.
Gin shook his head smiling. "I love you."
"What was that?"
Leaning in close enough that their noses were touching, Gin proposed to her.
"Do you wanna go for a ride?"
XOXO
Damn that took me a LONG ASS TIME to write this chapter! But I hope you guys liked it XP It's actually my first time writing something so "sexual" (believe it or not), hence why it took me so long. And also its length. Why are these chapters getting longer?! (╬⓪益⓪)
This might seem obnoxious to some of you (sorry), but whenever I read a story that has an English teacher in it, writers don't use them to their full potential! They can add SO MUCH to a story, but they're sadly regulated to assigning a book that is mildly related to the story in some way -_-
Maybe it's because I studied English in school and can see how referencing works from the canon of English literature can make a story's themes that more impactful. I don't know. Look Mom and Dad! I'm applying my university education for a good purpose!
Like always THANK YOU ALL YOU WONDERFUL AWESOME ENDEARING PEOPLE THAT READ THROUGH THIS STUFF I WRITE. AND LIKE IT.
I LOVE YOU. TAKE ALL MY FIVE HEARTS 💜💜💜💜💜 YOU WON THE GAME
I'll be back soon with a (HOPEFULLY) shorter chapter! So sorry for the wait :3
-Letalis