Chasing Violets

My F'ed Up Family

--------------------------------------------------------------Still 3 Months Ago-------------------------------------------------

The Refined have a few shortcomings. While they heal at an advanced rate, and they have super-enhanced strength, speed, and durability, they still die all the same. After all, a knife to the throat or heart will probably kill most things, no matter the species. Secondly, they all have the same colored eyes. All a bright electrifying blue. All clear and intelligent-looking. (But hey, looks are often deceiving. I mean, Im a purple eyed, violet-haired, ultra skinny hipster chick, and look at what I do) And the most distinguishingly, they all had the same hair color. Long, silky, jet black hair. No curls or waves. No bounce. No flair of any kind. Color wasn't an option. Literally. They took all hair dyes out to some remote Area 51 location and burned it. (Luckily, my hair, like my eyes, were naturally purple. In fact, everything about me was purple. Natural violet eyes, my hair was a deep royal purple, purple acrylic nail polish. No eyeshadow or blush for me. They just wouldnt look as good. Royal purple shirt though, one that matched the color of my hair. Black pants and black and purple sneakers. Some small miracle that my name is Violet. But back to the Retarded, i mean, Refined) They walked around in a normal-ish although very skittery, helter-skelter way, but the way they did even the smallest things, like drinking coffee, was too bizarre. Too high-end. It made my blood run cold as ice to see the once rough but proud humans turned into the snobby, high-tech, monsters they were now. Oh yeah, another thing about them that set them apart. Not sure how I spaced on this fact before. They were absolutely freezing to the touch. Imagine what being trapped in a storage freezer for 3 days is like, and then add another day and a half. That is how their skin felt. Not even warmth, or really even any sort of feeling whatsoever. Definitely not the smooth and sturdy skin of normal people, and most definitely not the rough and scarred skin like mine. It was lifeless. Cold. Alien...just like them.

It had been 3 weeks since the Refining process had destroyed humanity as I knew it, and I was scoping my old home with a deep, painful sense of loss. Everything I had known about the world began and ended with this house. And on top of that, they had taken away some of the most important people in my life. My mother, whose deep purple eyes had watched me at every tournament and demonstration. Whose long, gentle fingers had tended to my cuts, scrapes and various other injuries I accumulated while fighting. Whose thoughtful words of wisdom had gotten me through every bad break-up, every insecurity, and all the psychological anomalies that came with being me (yeah, im kind of messed up in the head. I'm a manic depressive, and I also have a bit of a bi-polar disorder so...). And then there was my dad. He had the most magnificent laugh I ever would hear in my life. It was a deep, booming laugh, one that filled your heart with hope and the room with a warmth that outlasted a fire. His strong arms that would crush me into his huge chest, the product of a lifetime as a bouncer for the former Vampin' Night Club and the head of his own security company. And then there was my "brother." Granted, I didnt actually love him the way I loved the rest of my family. As a matter of fact, I hated him with a bone deep passion. He was a big-shot actor who had led a life of luxury, fortune and fame, but gave absolutely nothing back to his family. Nothing back to the parents who had paid for his acting lessons when he said he wanted to be an actor someday. Nothing back to the family that had taken care of him for the last 24 years. Yeah, such a brother he was. I hope he died. Actually, no. I hope he was Refined, so I could hunt him down and kill him myself. This idea shocked me. And not just shocked me, it fueled me. It enveloped me, possessed me. All the disregard that fucking prick had expressed, All the distain and hurt that i held for him burst forward. It was decided. I would figure out if that bastard was alive, and if he was, I would rectify that oversight. I would kill my brother...or i would die trying.

*************************************************Now******************************************************

So I told you that at some point I would tell you the story of my eyes right? Right. So this is really complicated so if you get lost, I apologize. So it goes like this. One of my ancestors, Maya (my great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great grandmother to be precise) was born an anomaly. Normally, when a baby is born, they cry to take their first breaths. When Maya was born, she was silent and watchful. Now back then, if a baby was silent, that meant it would die early in life. The even more anomalous thing about my grandmother was her eyes. A normal baby's eyes are grey, and over the course of a few weeks, the color kicks in and voíla, your eye color is there. Maya, however, had a deep violet eye color that appeared the moment she opened her eyes. This anomaly was attributed to God's work, for violet was considered a color of power, wealth, and royalty. Maya truly was a child of God. She wanted for nothing, and needed nothing. She was the princess of Louisiana. People fussed over her for the smallest details, and her every movement was met with awe and admiration. But Maya grew up independent, not asking for much, and at the age of 6 was very humble.