Butterflies

Chapter 19

When the alarm bells stopped ringing and the lights of the facility turned off, Violet knew she was in the clear. But what was presented next would be another struggle. Finding out where she actually was. The walls covered the outside so well, Violet hadn't seen it in months. And perhaps she was grateful; because all that was outside was endless forest, trees reaching up to the sky and covering the blue above it.

Heading out to the few parked cars in the parking bay, Violet surveyed each one. It wasn't the smartest idea to stroll through the front of the building in search for a pair of wheels, but Violet wasn't exactly eager to walk back to New York. And the guards had stopped chasing her, whatever they would send after her next would have to chase her by vehicle.

Deciding on a plain black car, Violet manipulated the lock so she could get inside, doing the same with the ignition. Often she would see in movies great action stars would hotwire a car to get it started... however it seemed much more of an effort than using powers. Gripping the wheel, she hugged it tightly, a sob emitting from her throat as the adrenaline finally slowed down. She was free. Free again.

How many more times would she have prove she's not their possession? All Violet wanted was so be free; all she wanted was play music again. How she missed the sleek keys under her fingers, the sounds filling her ears as she wore expensive dresses and drank expensive drinks. The ambiance like rain against concrete, immersive and never ending. If only she could run away and complete the dream. Perhaps live on a small island and play songs for the natives to dance to. To see smiles for once, no blood or pain or politics. Just love.

The tears that fell down her eyes dripped onto her knees like cold palms trying to silence her. She lost her dream when he came into her life. She didn't know she was under their eye, she could continue not knowing. But Billy came and opened the trap door, had her fall with him into the darkness where they never stopped falling. It angered her. He angered her. But in that moment she had never cared for him more. Was it love she felt? Was it love that was making her feel that way?

What even did love feel like? Was it what she felt that night when he almost kissed her? That urgency, desperate for her to move forward and kiss him herself. The butterflies that fluttered in her stomach whenever he teased her or smiled at her. How although he was dedicated to someone else, she could still give all her dedication to him. Wiping her eyes, Violet stared ahead and wondered if he thought the same about her. Or was he destined for the woman who was there first?

Sighing, Violet settled in her seat and flipped down the mirror above the window, not ready for what she would see. Her hair stood up in multiple places, like someone thought fluffing up someone's hair included dragging them through a bush. There were cuts and bruises decorating her shoulders and arms, and what felt the worse was her back. And the bullet holes. It's easy to forget that you yourself have been injured when your adrenaline is so high. The back of her shirt was ripped open, slashes through her back from the spikes. It was painful to touch. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and focused on all her wounds, aiming to heal them all.

Although all that occurred was the small crackles of the bullets pushing out and hitting the floor of the car. The cuts and bruises were still there. It could be said that the wounds didn't hurt like they clearly were supposed to, but they refused to heal. Cursing, Violet flicked her hand to the side and by magic, a gauche had appeared in her hand. They had changed her, Doctor White augmented her strength to limit its safety.

"For fucks sake," she mumbled, wrapping the gauche around her mid section and arms before laying back in her seat.

It was a smart plan, to rip away the smoke to the gun. They took what she wouldn't notice, until of course she was covered in the sizzling that came with the smoke. When you take away the foundations, you're expecting the rest to crumble, the pillar's that invite you inside, now a pile of marble. When she stared at herself next she knew she had to do more. She was bound to be hunted, have all types of Supes following her every move ready to pounce. When she thought they hadn't been watching her, they had been, like she was the Truman of New York. Besides, a new look can always be enjoyable.