Delicate Pulse | Violentine

Light and Heavy

(tw: mention of su*c*de)

The longer I'm here, the faster time seems to fly by.

I'm starting to adjust to a regular routine here at Ericson's. It mainly consists of surviving the day, avoiding anyone that scrunches their nose at me and hoping to catch some sleep during the nights. Things were getting better until I tore my skirt. I swear it was something out of a god damn cartoon. A piece of thread wrapped itself around my chair and as I stood up it got caught, the fabric splitting at the seams. The boys wouldn't stop catcalling me. Mr Everett had to shut it down, embarrassingly enough. I had to wobble back to the dorms, using my blazer to hide the evidence in which I almost received a uniform citation. I had to call my parents to order another one for me which was not the type of conversation I was waiting to have with them over our first phone call.

The mornings have been rough. I've never been an early bird, even when I used to get up at the crack of dawn on Sundays for baseball practice. The mornings are the only time I manage to catch some sleep. All of these weird-ass dreams I've been having keep stirring me awake. None of them as bad as the brick one, although they're all similar in terms of atmosphere. Violet and her haunting blank expression are in every single one. It's best to push the thought of it down.

Despite wanting to scream into a pillow when the alarm starts shrieking at us to rise from the dead, I try to be as optimistic as possible. I leap up and get ready. If I have enough time between breakfast and class, I do some push-ups to warm and to wake myself up. Brody loves it.

"It's nice seeing someone so passionate about something that doesn't harm anyone else for once," she sang.

Sometimes, if she doesn't have to be anywhere that morning, she joins in with me. We try to keep in time with each other by counting aloud but it's not very successful. I'm too quick and she's too concentrated that she loses count or even jumps ahead. We usually end up lying on the floor laughing.

Violet hates it, or at least she seems too. She automatically crosses her arms and rolls her eyes at us. It's either that or she barges out the door without hesitation, her hair half done and bag swung onto her shoulder. Brody's face falls every time and I never know what to say. What could I say? Violet is hard to read. She reminds me of a dice; you never know how you're gonna roll with her each day.

I ponder over our first conversation alone together while I head over to lunch. She's harsh but there's something else there, I can't circle it right now but there is. Louis suddenly emerges from the crowd to step along with me.

"You know, you never told me what the 'D' stands for," he jesters, poking my hat.

"Chunichi Dragons. It's a Japanese baseball team," I explain, swatting his hand away.

"Ah yes, the wondrous world of baseball I have no idea about."

"Do you even play sports?"

"Not really, not when I don't have to. My heart lies with the keys of a piano," he swoons sarcastically, dancing his fingers across the air. He begins singing the traditional Clementine song for the hundredth time this week and I elbow him gently. He laughs, treading ahead of me and turning around so he's walking backwards in front of me.

"Hope you're not planning to eat much because we're playing a game," he claims.

"Hmm, wild guess," I smirk. "Does it have anything to do with cards?"

"Perhaps."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Heyo!" Louis yells out and waves.