crossovers.

Vision Conundrums

|| tate x violet ||

Being ambushed by a group of three catty brats was not the welcoming gesture Violet expected from her new school, but she didn't really put too much thought about it.

She slid quietly inside the kitchen using the newly discovered creaky back door.

"Where have you been?" her mom asked, her back facing Violet.

"School." she replied quietly while trying to scurry out of the room.

Her mom whipped around, left hand on her hips and a rolling pin on the other, pointing accusingly at Violet's bruised eye. She shook her head and motioned Violet to sit on the kitchen stool.

"Who did that?"

Violet scoffed.

"I'm not some chickenshit that starts blurting out names when given the chance. Besides, it doesn't matter anymore."

Violet stopped her mom from dabbing the cloth on her injured eye and walked out of the kitchen.

Up in her room afterwards, she was settled half way under her blanket reading a book: Wild Discoveries About Rare Birds.

She couldn't stop the itching on her left eye, kept on scratching it until it was surrounded by what looked like a red shade. She studied it carefully in her mirror and groaned.

Not again, she complained. Pink eye was something she could not handle; it's less tolerable than a bruised eye.

She went downstairs and to the medicine box her mom crafted herself. Her mom doesn't really feel comfortable about Violet being surrounded by a plethora of pills so she had the box hidden somewhere anyone would least expect it to be. Violet shook her head in amusement as she found it behind cereal boxes in the pantry.

Not really knowing about the correct prescription and not really giving two shits about the consequences, she grabbed one pill from every bottle. Yes, that was such a stupid move, but Violet couldn't care less at that moment. She just really wanted to cure the obnoxious feeling on her eyeball.

She sped up to her room and swallowed every little pill she gathered with just one gulp of water. Her head felt a bit light, but it caused ease on the irritation in which she was thankful for.

She lowered herself on the bed and moaned. A very, un-Violet sound. It must be the drugs, she theorized.

At some point, she woke up from the sound of a broken glass. Beads of sweat were plastered on her forehead and her skin was cold and clammy.

The window to her right was wide open and etched with a jagged hole, allowing a very unfriendly breeze to whoop inside her room. Odd, she thought. She doesn't leave her windows open and who in their right mind would throw shit on windows these days? That's old school communication!

When she stood up with a goal in her head, to close the fucking window, a figure was standing in their front yard staring directly at her. She blinked once, twice and then it was gone. She partially blamed it on the medicine.

Her eyes were drooping and so she checked her digital clock, the only "futuristic" item in her room besides her iPod and headphones.

01:24am.

So she clearly only had like what, two hours of sleep? This is not good since there's school in a couple of hours and she'd slacked the previous day so had to make up for it.

Her eyes darted from her clock to her bed and there it was again; the immobile figure. She blinked once more and then poof, it was gone.

She slowly breathed in and out, trying to calm her nerves.Obviously, next time she needs something specific that involves medicine, she'll ask her dad, much to her dismay.