Veins of Violet || Logan Howlett

Fractured Memories

Logan's Pov 

It had been a week since Violet had fallen into this deep sleep, and every day felt like an eternity. Laura and I were doing our best to adjust to this new environment—the mansion, the people, the memories it stirred. It was strange being here, with so many familiar faces from another life, but not quite the same.

Laura had started to settle in, finding a bit of a routine among the other kids. She was tough, adapting quickly, but I could see the strain of worrying about Violet weighing on her. We both tried to keep busy, but every time I saw her glance toward the medical wing, I knew her thoughts mirrored mine.

Wade and Vanessa had been a constant presence, popping in every day to check on Violet. Wade would usually bring some ridiculous item—a rubber chicken, a glitter bomb, once even a miniature disco ball—hoping to coax a reaction out of her. It was his way of showing he cared, in that weird, over-the-top manner of his. Vanessa, ever the calming influence, would just sit with Violet for a while, talking to her softly, as if her voice alone could bring Violet back.

Meanwhile, back at the apartment, Wade and Vanessa had taken it upon themselves to fix the door that had been blasted to pieces during our last encounter. Wade had insisted on doing it himself, with Vanessa supervising to make sure he didn't turn it into another one of his "creative projects." I wasn't sure if the door would end up looking like it belonged in a normal apartment or if it would be some sort of over-the-top, Wade-style masterpiece, but either way, I appreciated the help.

As for me, I spent most of my time between the medical wing and the training room, trying to work off the restlessness that came from waiting. The training room was a good place to clear my head, to burn off the frustration of not being able to do more for Violet. But no matter how hard I pushed myself, at the end of the day, I always found myself back by her side, waiting for some sign of change.

Laura was doing her best to stay strong, but I could tell it was taking a toll on her too. She'd visit Violet every day, sometimes just sitting in silence, other times telling her about the small things happening around the mansion—who she'd met, what she'd learned. It was like she was trying to keep Violet connected to the world, even if she couldn't respond.

One morning, after another round in the training room, I found myself back in Violet's room, as usual. I sat down in the chair beside her bed, looking at her peaceful face, and sighed. "C'mon, Violet," I muttered, not for the first time. "We're all waiting for you."

The only response was the steady beep of the machines monitoring her, a sound I'd grown to both hate and find comfort in. It was a reminder that she was still here, even if she was taking her time finding her way back to us.

I leaned back in the chair, letting my eyes close for a moment, and just listened to the sounds of the mansion—the distant chatter, the occasional burst of laughter from the kids, the soft footsteps of people passing by. It was strange, this place. It wasn't home, not really, but it was starting to feel like something close to it.

I decided to take a small walk to clear my head, needing some air after the endless days of waiting. The grounds of the mansion were quiet, with the early morning sun casting long shadows across the grass. It was peaceful, but my mind was anything but. I kept thinking about Violet, about what would happen when she finally woke up. 

When I returned to the mansion, I was surprised to find Charles waiting for me at the front door. His expression was calm, but there was something in his eyes that put me on edge.

"What is it?" I asked, my heart skipping a beat.

"She's awake," Charles said, his voice gentle but filled with an undercurrent of concern.