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━NEUROSIS ━ CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN.
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VIOLET LET OUT A BREATH, wiping away the sweat that coated her forehead. She looked down at the small pile of chopped wood below her with a proud smile, content with the work she had done.
It had only been a day since the others had left. And ever since, the remaining of the group had all taken it upon themselves to stay occupied with any unfinished tasks that needed to be done.
They all told themselves it was to make sure they didn't fall behind on keeping themselves afloat, while they were a significant amount of people down. And that was true, partly.
But mainly, it was because their tasking served as a distraction. A distraction that stopped their worry fused thoughts about the others filling their minds constantly.
Violet held the opinion that she had drawn the better straw. For she found that chopping wood served as a great distraction. And honestly, she was surprised she hadn't taken up the mantle of doing the chore sooner.
There was something about it. Every swing, every cut, every chop. It was enough to relieve Violet of any pent up stress, enough to feed her constant lingering anger long enough to keep it at bay.
It was a simple ritual, yet it felt so fulfilling. With every deadly swing, the log's fate was completely at her will. And Violet took a sense of delight in it all. In the complete control she had.
Lottie watched Violet from her perch on the cabin porch, her prior task of washing clothes being long forgotten about. Honestly, she was pretty sure she'd forgotten how to wash clothes altogether.
Her head tilted to the side as her eyes took in the sight a few feet away from her, allowing her gaze to—not so subtly— bounce back and forth between the girl's arms and face.
Lottie was watching her shamelessly, yet she couldn't find it in her to care. Not anymore. Not when she no longer had to hide the way she truly felt about the Crawford girl. How she truly saw her.
