Violet rarely speaks, so when you find yourself hearing her voice, you either cherish it or start running.
Being a selective mute who's power is to disappear, Violet Hargreeves hasn't aged ever since Five's powers kicked back at her for trying to st...
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Violet felt awful.
Her head pounded with every beat of her pulse and it took her a few minutes to actually get out of the bed and onto her feet without her legs giving out. The thought that someone had taken her black flats off of her and placed them at the end of the bed made her a little uneasy, not for the convenience, but for the fact that she hadn't been aware when it was done. Then again, she had also been carried to a bed at some point, and the more she dwelled on people touching her the worse her headache grew.
As she shifted, her dress pulled on sore skin, stuck down with dried blood against her side.
Despite barely being able to conjure up a coherent thought, she dragged herself gradually over to the door and muffled conversation met her ears.
She tried listening, placing her hand against the wood of the door. Her broken one was tucked at the base of her neck against her chest.
She vaguely heard the name Lila being thrown around and could only assume it was the British womans name from the night before.
Or, she assumed it was the night before. The more she thought about it she had no concept of how much time had passed. How long had she been unconcious?
The tear in the side of her dress was carefully prised from her skin and below was a mottled, messy patch of skin with a woundabout a centimeter smaller than the knife had been; it was good, it meant she was healing gradually, but the skin around it was red and angry and she grimaced, gently placing the stiff fabric back down.
Violet didn't wait for a pause in what they were talking about, she just quietly opened the door and peeked out.
Five and Diego were standing with their backs to her behind a couch, the former with arms crossed, the latter resting on the back of it. Lila was casually sprawled on the couch facing the opposite way - and the woman had her head turnt towards what they were all looking at every so often while they spoke in hushed tones.
The small box television with the news channel playing out.
She averted her gaze and none of them noticed or heard her enter. After a few seconds if waiting and glancing around, she headed towards a bathroom with the door left ajar and went straight to the cabinet beneath the sink, nudging the door closed with her foot.
Her good hand prised the door open and she rummaged stiffly and silently through until she came across what she was looking for.
She turned over a box of bandaids in her hand before hunching over, a sharp pain digging up her side.
Violet got herself down onto the floor using the sinks edge and sat with her back to the now closed cabinet. She let out an exhale when some pressure was eased.
She carelessly pulled out bandaids of all sizes, flicking through until she grabbed the largest one about the size of her palm. Aiming to put it over her stab wound, she lifted the fabric of her skirt, but had to pause when she revealed the purple, gripping, finger print shaped bruises up her thighs.
