Being Violet

Chapter 2

To me, those who are brave run to find their happy bubble. The very act of running from something that has caused pain or hurt seems so courageous to me. I wondered, what would it be like if I should just bolt to an unknown part of the world? My fingers immediately searched the pockets of my sweater for any cash. One could even catch a ghost of a smile on my lips. My fingers collided with the crisp dollar notes and i clutched it tight, like how i held tightly to Ricky's dead body.

I often find myself searching for something. But more and more, it feels like i am wandering, waiting for something to happen to me, something that will change everything, something that my whole life has been leading up to.

Leaving is killing my soul as sure as a dagger can stop a beating heart. It isn't easy to leave even when it's the only option available. If there was no hope at all I would stay by mother's side and choose to die in the dark, for without her love I choose not to exist. Can you imagine the pain of watching your mother put up with an abusive man even though you are enough for her?

"Give him respect. Who's going to pay for drinks then, letty?" mother spat out. If only she knew how much i despised her calling me that. "My name's Violet, mother. ", i responded, making sure to draw the word mother as sarcastic as possible. It's not that i hated her, far from that actually. I loved her but she let him do it. She let him abuse me. Abuse me in ways where i can't even look in the mirror and find happiness in those black soulless eyes staring right back.

"It's somewhat morbid", i would say to myself as i stared in the mirror, lost in my own reflection. No longer could i see that inquisitiveness, that desire, the passion, that fire in my eyes. I had lost my sense of purpose. All that remained was the deceiving hollow soul that reflected in the tear-stained glass, the marks leaving no room to see my true self anymore. I was just a shell of a girl. None were enough to kill me, but overtime their accumulation bled me of the humanity i once had. The reflection staring back was gaunt and melancholy.

I bet father and Ricky would turn in their graves if they knew what was going through my mind. They say i'm leaving but in truth it is an escape, an emancipation. When all your life your opinion has counted for less than some pop-tart on TV, the frustration builds. There comes a time when your voice has been so cramped up inside of you need to breakout or risk breakdown. I don't hate those I leave behind, I actually love them, but I need to stretch my wings, fly into open sky. Isn't that what we "birds" and "chicks" are born to do?

As i walked ahead along the street in the town i grew up in, I reminisce the times Ricky and me went running down Polt and 6th drive, bumping each other's shoulders, trying to get a good head start into our favorite cafe for pancakes. Ricky would always win though. He was pretty fast for a boy his age. "When will you beat me vi? I'm always winning.", he would say, cheeks beaming wide, flushed with healthy exertion. The cafe lied ahead, its royal blue paint glistening in the first golden rays of the day. I could see the rain drops that cling, jewel-like to to the name, "Gloria's." Outside, the sidewalk that will bustle in a few short hours is quiet, the concrete oblivious to whether it is midday or midnight. If I stop walking right now I can almost hear the heartbeat of the town, tranquil, like the ticking of an old Grandfather clock. Though I'm in no hurry I keep walking, the cafe isn't my destination, just a microcosm of happy memories with Ricky. No, it's the train station i'm headed for and a journey north...

I tugged on my hoodie as a gust of wind picked up and tingled my spine. I had to move fast before someone notices me leaving home. Picking up my pace, I navigated my way down rows and rows of townshops, each one coming to life in the early lights of dawn all different yet complimented each other perfectly. Oh how i shall miss this town.

I passed by the bookstore where i used to help Anne-Marie, our local librarian during school breaks stacking books up shelves and the local pet store where i bought a pet goldfish for Ricky on his birthday. I didn't want to because it costed me quite a sum and eventually caved in at the sight of his puppy eyes. I shrugged off the grief that trailed me like a demon, not letting me breathe. I had to be strong, i had to do this. But could i?

After walking for what seemed like ages, I finally crossed to the open landscape, my shadow being the only company following me in my journey to the unknown.

"Longwood Vill train station", my mouth emitted out, the voice distant like a hundred miles away. Well, here goes nothing. Summoning up all vestiges of power, I held my head up and walked in, past the dusty old doors.

I heard the roaring sound of the engines the moment i stepped foot into the old train station. The silence at the train station is as usual, and even quieter since less people are around anymore. Some with newspapers on hands, while some are busy checking their phones. A young boy was sitting at the opposite bench, licking his ice-cream. At midnight? That was strange, i mused.

Not long after that the rumbling noise can be heard from afar, changing the green light into red. Passengers quickly gather their belonging as the sound gets closer and louder. Everyone stands up and gets closer to the platform, waiting for their ride to arrive. There it is, sharp at 11 o'clock, the train arrives on time. I walked closer to the platform, waiting to board the train yet in my heart, i wanted to stay so desperately.

The sound of chitter-chatter brought me out of my reverie. Sometimes one could make out a word here or there, but often one person's words would be drowned out by another's, and most of the time one can't make out much at all of what another person might be saying. The result was an ongoing murmur, resembling very much the static one gets on the radio when out of range. More than once one could pass by some people that spoke in a foreign tongue.

I immediately found a seat by the window. All that was left, was the long, never-ending journey ahead. I closed the shutter on the window, time to sleep.

"Is this seat taken?", an old lady's voice snapped me from my hazy dreams. Her voice was kind, gentle with warmth. At once i shake my head and scooted to the side, adjusting my hoodie, trying not to look as hobo as possible. I didn't know why i wanted the old lady to think well of me. I barely even knew her to begin with.

As she settled her bag next to her, I glanced at her profile. At her age she should have one foot in the grave. Her gait should be wonky with arthritic joints and eyesight failing faster than my school grades. Were it not for the lines in her face I'd think her sixty at the most given her sharp mind and easy motion; but they are so deep and saggy - like the skin no longer has a connection to the skull underneath. In a photograph you'd clock her as ninety or more, and I think that's where she is. It's her litheness and articulate speech that get you, an echo of youth in someone so old. Sometimes I want to pull away the mask of age to see the person inside, the girl she was all those years ago. Then I remember I don't have to, if I listen to her words and pay attention to her smile, to her eyes, she's still in there as much as she ever was.

"You know you could just ask my age instead of gawking at me," she chastised me, eyes twinkling in mirth. I surprisingly giggled at the outburst. I smiled back at her, the first genuine smile in ages. She looked down at my feet and back up in surprise. "Do you not have any bags, sweety?", she questioned.

I gulped, terrified to have been caught sneaking away from home. Racking my head up for an excuse, she continued, " Oh don't bother honey. But do you really want to do this?"

"Do what?" I feigned surprise. "Leaving, running, sneaking out-oh i have no idea what you youngsters call it these days. Back in my time, it was undoubtedly giving up hope." she said softly, smiling faintly. My heart beat faster, feeling doubts swim into my head, making me confused. I'm only 20 and mother would be all alone at home..

No matter what, I could not leave her all alone, unprotected against my abusive step-father. My breath caught in my throat, i stood up hastily. "I-i have to go. I'm sorry but thank you so much," i said to her. Her eyes twinkled in the dim lights of the train's interior. "May God bless you sweet." I heard her say as i ran out of the train, stepping on the cold concrete.

I need to go home.

Author's Note

Wow, okay that took me 3 days to write. Phew!! How is everyone doing? Well, i'm super stellar- exams are over! So that means i get to write more and you guys get to read more. ;) yay. If you like this chapter, do vote and comment! Looking forward to hear what you guys think of this story. Next, we'll see what happens when Violet gets home. till then, hugs and kisses xo