Violet in Red

Chapter 6

Pov. Jasper

Everything was quiet...

A few rays of sunlight shimmered through the window, but my body was still heavy in bed. Half-asleep, I rolled over to the other side. Just as I was about to finally close my eyes again and continue sleeping, my alarm clock rudely screamed at me—not in the friendliest way either.

"Alarm, mute!" But the voice control barely heard me over the noise the alarm was already making. Annoyed, I lifted my head. "ALARM, STOP!" I yelled with a scratchy morning voice and instantly regretted moving. I let my head fall back down. I couldn't help but let out a frustrated groan.

Whisky, who had been sleeping next to me, now stood on the bed with his tail puffed up. But I didn't have time for that. I quickly picked up the cat and tossed him out of my room. My room was a complete mess—worn sweaters, random single socks, and dishes were scattered everywhere. To sum it up, I'm a slob. Desperately, I searched for something wearable in my closet.

"I'd love to just throw on the old sweaters from the floor, but today everything has to go perfectly, no mistakes. None. But what am I even thinking here?"

Finally, I found a shirt that wasn't too fancy but not too casual either. I looked like I was celebrating my graduation again. I had to chuckle a bit—Tian really made that party explode back in the day.

Tian is an old school friend of mine, but he now works as a model all over the world. He was discovered by a well-known model after school and showed great potential. He sends me selfies all the time with his stylist or from shoots. I always see him smiling, and he's even landed a girlfriend. Next to him, I look like an average idiot. Even though we're the same age, he's already achieved so much. I shouldn't compare myself to others, but that's something hard to stop doing. My own reflection in the mirror reminded me of what I really was—small and hunched over. I also have the bad habit of scratching my skin or biting my lip. I can't impress with either my performance or my looks. Honestly, I had a better chance of winning the lottery than getting the job at Minerva.

For a moment, my mind was quiet.

By now, I was already scratching my skin again. It was like a habit I couldn't stop. My middle finger constantly ran to my thumb, trying to scrape it until it started bleeding again.

But don't worry, it doesn't hurt—it happens all the time.

I glanced in the mirror briefly, then turned my back to it. In the kitchen, the red cat was still waiting for his food. I myself ate only a small breakfast.

Sometimes, I skipped it altogether because I didn't have time. But not today.

I double-checked my bag before heading out and then locked the door. Jackson had been out all night.

On my way to the subway, I got more and more nervous. Some drunk guy stood in front of me with a beer can in his hand, babbling something about World War III. The subway was packed with people—you had to push your way through to get out.

"Next stop: Central Park West," came the voice from the speakers. With weak knees and trembling hands, I stood up and got off.