The Blood Of The Rainbow

.:Chapter 2:.

I walked home, mindlessly massaging my hands. I've spent almost 4 hours sewing and my hands were killing me. I decided I would stop by Marigold's house and buy a pear for my brother. It was his favorite and I hadn't seen him in a week due to his late work schedule.

I knocked quietly on the door, not wanting to wake up their new baby, Amber. Marigold opened the door, smiling warmly at me.

"Hey, Violet. What can I do for you?"

I smiled at her. "One pear, please."

Marigold nodded and asked me to come in. I looked around the comfortable home. It was filled with all shades of browns, from the mahogany wooden floor to the brass accents of the furniture, giving a cozy vibe. I noticed Marigold's mother in the corner drinking a cup of tea.

"Cressida. It's so nice to see you," I greeted. The older woman looked up at me and smiled, standing up.

"Violet! It's lovely to see you after so long. How are you and your family?" she hugged me.

"We're doing well. Since Mauve started working we've been doing really nicely."

Cressida hummed. "What is he doing?" she asked, sipping her tea.

"Learning to be a jeweler. He's working with our uncle. The only family member that doesn't hate us."

She scoffed. "I never understood how you know. Your parents are deeply in love, there is no question about that. And you and your brother are very intelligent. I should know. I taught you." I chuckled at her.

"That's because you're a Yellow. You are quite insightful and wise, Cressida." She smiled at me

"Thank you, Violet. Now, it's late. You better head home." I nodded, grabbing the pear from Marigold behind me. I tucked a few extra coins into Marigold's hand, leaving quickly not giving her enough time to argue.

I turned a corner and was faced with the youngest of the Blackwell children.

"Hey. You're that girl with the purple blood, aren't you?"

I grumbled, not wanting to talk about my blood. I knew what was going to happen, it was like a lifestyle.

"Wait! Don't ignore me! Don't you know who I am?"

I laughed at his comment he probably got from his father. "Please, kid. You don't even have a name in my head. Beat it." I said, continuing to walk.

"My name is Forest Blackwell, son of Bernlack Blackwell and Olive Blackwell. You will stop walking and listen to me."

I laughed at his rehearsed speech. "Fine. What do you want, kid? And quickly. I have a family at home," I snapped at him.

"My dad said that my totally-not-sister Emerald is no longer in the family. Can you tell me how she's doing? Check on her for me?"

I sighed, feeling like an asshole. He sounded so sincere.

"Please everyone is turning me down, not wanting to go to the red part of town. I know you live there so can you keep her safe until I'm old enough?" he begged.

My heart was nearly broken at this point. "Fine. Yes. I will meet you here after school once a week and tell you all about your sister. Got it?"

He nodded happily before jumping into my arms. "Thank you! Thank you!" He ran off towards his house jubilantly.

I walked up to my house, opening the door. As if life couldn't get worse. What I saw in front of me made me want to cry.

My brother, in the bed, coughing up blood. Way too much of it. All I saw was purple.

I ran and fell to his bedside dropping the pear in the process. "Mauve. What happened?MOM? DAD?" My mom rushed in, looking at her son. "What happened? Mom, what's wrong?" I demanded, voice shaking with fear. My brother looked at me dully.

My mother sighed, kneeling next to me and forced my brother to drink some sort of herbal tea.

"Your brother got into a fight. Sure he won, but not without some internal bleeding. Dad went to go get the local doctor."

Grandpa.

"Will he help?" I asked, scared for my brother. My mom groaned.

"God, I really hope so. This boy is still his blood, whether he likes it or not." Mauve stopped coughing. She gazed at her son sadly, stroking his head with fierce motherly love before leaving.

"Stupid! What were you thinking? Who did you fight?" I snapped, once she left. My brother laughed.

"These reds talking shit," he explained. It was all he could say—he was struggling to breathe a little. I sighed at him, sad and annoyed.

"Why? We've dealt with it our entire lives. And multiple? Why not wait for me? We are a better team."

He shrugged. "They were talking about you. I couldn't stand it after two sentences."

I groaned again. "I don't need you to defend me. Not anymore."

He nodded his head, rolling his eyes. "Sure. Whatever you say." He looked down at the red blood on his hands. "Red suits me, don't you think?"

I scoffed at him. "Purple suits you. Don't go getting any ideas. You've always been more like Dad anyway. We cannot get rid of our blood Mauve. Don't do it."

He nodded his head. I poked my finger at the cut above his eyebrow. "This," he winced, though I continued, "is what you are." I then poked at the red on his fist, so different in contrast so the purple that seeped from his bandages. "Not this. Understand?" He rolled his eyes. I glared at him, until he finally nodded.

I heard the front door open, making me freeze. Behind me I heard the footsteps of my grandfather.

"Violet. I'm going to need you to move." His voice brought me out of my shock. I got up from the floor hastily, moving to the wall to lean against it. "How long ago did you fight these boys?" He asked my brother, then asked many more boring questions.

"I would usually need to give you more blood due to blood lose but I have none on me. So I guess it's just a waiting game to see if you make it."

I scoffed at him. "Are you fucking kidding me, old man?" My grandfather looked at me bewildered. I snapped, "Take my fucking blood. Now."

"Violet! I simply can't do it like that. All blood has to go through testing for sicknesses and such. And maybe I could have given him blood I already have if he wasn't so damn red." I glared at him. How dare he put social class over life?

"So you're just gonna let him fucking die? Take my blood. We are siblings. Do I look sick to you? No! Then take my blood!" I was almost yelling.

He sighed, frustrated, before taking 2 pints of blood from me. The pain was short and quick, and I barely felt it as I watched Mauze looking at me with sad eyes. My grandfather then wrapped my arm, a look of disgust plastered on his face. He hooked up my brother before getting the money and leaving.

"Selfish prick!" I yelled as he walked away with half our weeks earning.