Violet Betrays [Completed]

Chapter 2

I'm slipping myself into my favorite black dress. It's very simple and plain, and I can't find my make-up. Looks like I'm going to be running around like the walking dead asking for money.

I pull my curls into a ponytail. I look far, far, far from perfect today. But I guess it'll have to wait until after I collect the money.

I rush downstairs and take the envelopes from my father. The envelopes show that they must pay their tax in order to be a law abiding citizen. My father puts his hands on my shoulders and kisses my forehead. He says, "Have you practiced your dialogue?"

I pause. "Yes."

The dialogue that should take place between me and the citizen goes as follows.

Good morning. My name is Violet Jackson. I am here on behalf of Elliot Jackson, Treasurer of the city of Noah. I am here to collect your yearly tax.

My hand is on the doorknob, and I'm pressing the rich, dark mahogany of our front door.

You may request an extension, but know the form will take a week to be processed.

I don't spend a lot of time outside, but the one thing I know is this; the garden is a wreck. Everything is disorderly and the cement front porch is covered in sand and dust. I pull up my skirt and weave my way around the dust.

I am certified under both Elliot Jackson and Christian Vergin to handle your finances.

Main Street goes in two directions. When stepping off of my porch, you are met with the road, and then thousands of dead trees. These dead trees meet the western-most edge of the East End. Main Street is simply a dirt road. Taking a right will lead you to the Square, and taking a right will lead you to the gallows. And after the gallows... The land goes on and on, until it kisses the horizon.

I take the left, and I can already see that the Square is busy. There are people arguing about the price of grain and how much it should be for a small cod. We get shipments of fish and other seafood from Michael every other week. The fish are stored in a small farm behind Town Hall so that the Trade Magistrate can make sure that the fish are the amount that was promised by Michael, and how much each fish costs.

The funny thing is that I'm allergic to shellfish, and just to be safe my father has kept me from other fish. None of these rules apply to me. Funny, funny, ironic. Funny.

I push my hair out of my eyes as I start at the first house in the West End. The door opens to a lady with dark eyes and bleached blond hair. She sighs. "Who are you?"

"Good morning. My name is Violet Jackson–"

"Cut the crap, girl. You want my money, and you'll get it." The woman flees back into her home, and I sigh. God, father. You deal with these people every day.

I'm quite sure I will not be able to make it through this.

The woman returns with a black envelope with gold hem. Area 1's colors are black and gold, just as Area 5 is maroon and gold, and Area 4's is green and gold. I take the money from her and put it into my bag. I bow and smile. "Have a fantastic rest of your day!" I call.

She slams the door in my face.

I keep moving house to house. Every conversation is the same. It's always a variation of "You want my money? Fine, take it", or someone being stubborn and me reminding them of the taxation law. I found that the members of the West End are more likely to submit than the members of the East End.

It must be either twelve thirty or one in the afternoon, because the sun is high in the sky. There's sweat pouring off of my brow, and I must look like I got hit by a car.