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italics = rue's narration
VIOLET NEVER THOUGHT LIKE THE OTHER KIDS.
"I know! I'm almost ready!" She shouted back to Fezco, brushing her blonde hair. Her ginger roots were starting to show.
She noticed things they didn't, talked about things they didn't talk about, liked things they didn't like.
"Oh, wow, Faye! You didn't have to steam my dress!" Violet grins, slipping on the lavender sundress. A matching purple ribbon ties her hair into a low ponytail.
Faye smiles, proud of her work.
Violet was diagnosed with anxiety when she was ten.
She remembers her mom crying a lot about it. She didn't understand why, and she still doesn't. She's still Violet. Nothing's changing.
"Do you think they'll have food there?" She asks Faye, who shrugs.
It was normal to her. The quickening of her heart rate. The sweat dripping down her forehead. The common urge to vomit at any given moment.
"Man, I hope so. I haven't gotten to eat today." Violet sighs, and begins swiping on a pink lip tint.
After her diagnosis, Violet's dad became more caring for her. She noticed it in the way he cooked more for her, talked more to her, and didn't let her go out as much.
When Violet was eleven, her parents started to argue. A lot.
"Shit." Violet curses. "Ash, have you seen my mascara?" She hurriedly looks around the room for it.
"The fuck's mascara?" The boy grimaces, shaking his head.
She didn't know what it was about, but she soon pieced it together to be about her father's gambling and sex addiction. He'd been cheating for years.
It gave her a skewed sense of love. She watched her mother beg and plead for her father to not leave them. He did anyway, starting a new family in Canada.
Violet hated everything. She hated her father for cheating. She hated her mother for not being good enough for him. She hated herself for existing. Maybe if she wasn't born she wouldn't have made a wedge between the two.
