One-shots and such

In which Violet learns to hate love

If there ever was a material to describe Violet Heath, it would be diamond. Described by most as quite beautiful, with deep brown eyes that shone no matter the light levels and wavy brown hair that flooded and surrounded her pale face, just like a diamond she was tough as nails, formed under stress and expensive. Violet was a private investigator. At the beginning of her career, in her eyes, a private investigator meant Sherlock Holmes- a cool, calculating detective, capable of making impossible deductions in a matter of seconds, solving cases that stumped even the best in Scotland Yard- but she quickly learned that was not the case. She started her career in the police. Straight out of uni, she was doing pretty well for herself, moving her way through the ranks and earning respect from her colleagues. That was until her boyfriend left her. She and Matt had been together for nine years, living together for seven, and engaged for one. They were in a slightly rocky financial situation, but they could have made it work- until he left. The only kind of message he left her was a short, handwritten note explaining that he had left her for some blonde woman that was ten years younger, that he had fallen out of love with her years ago, a full list of her flaws, etc etc. Now having what was left of their life left to pay for and a government job that most certainly couldn't support it, she had to pack her bags and become a private detective. Despite her confusion, sadness and anger at Matt, she had bright dreams for the future. She would use all the skills she learnt on the force to solve impossible cases, prove her intellect and bring down bad guys... These dreams were shattered as soon as she had her first case.

Her first client was a middle-aged woman named Alison LeVere. Violet disliked Alison from the moment she walked into her tiny office- the way she walked, the way she looked at Violet, even the way she sat down- all of it made Violet think of an animal trying to make themselves the alpha. But this wasn't the wild. This was Violet's run-down, coffee-stained office, and Alison's animal vibes weren't going to work on her. Alison sat down and began to tell her story; how she married a man fifteen years older than her that she just loved so much (who also happened to be incredibly rich, and willing to pay for implants), and how she had seen some suspicious messages on his phone, and how she had decided to go to Violet to find out if her husband was cheating on her (she was sure to reassure Violet that she was the last choice of private investigator; and that she should really redecorate, had it not been for the urgency of the situation she would have left the second she saw the ecru walls). Violet took the case. It was an easy solve, of course- the man was cheating on Alison with two other girls, one twenty-nine, and one twenty-three. Alison didn't leave her husband in the end; it seemed she was willing to look past his infidelity and come to an agreement- he could have affairs with as many girls as he liked as long as he kept giving Alison money. Violet was glad to see the back of the LeVeres. She was glad that, now that she had finished the case, she could begin some real cases. The good meaty cases, with murder and gore and media coverage. But then another Alison appeared at her office. And then another. And another.

And this was where Violet now found herself. Ten years of Alisons later, and all her hopes of finally getting that juicy case that will make her feel alive again had vanished, chipped away at day after day by rich cheating scumbags and their gold digging wives. Each case had one of two outcomes, Violet had come to learn- either the man was cheating, the couple come to an agreement and they stay together, or the man wasn't cheating, but they split up anyway. But in every case, there was no love between the couple. Violet had slowly become dismissive and cynical of love. She'd had a few partners since Matt- but each one eventually ended after intrusive thoughts of every Alison in the world and Matt's betrayal convinced Violet to leave them before they left her. If she was a diamond, today it could definitely be said she was a diamond in the rough. She flopped herself down into the old, stained office chair she had been using for the past ten years and stared at the ecru walls (which she hadn't repainted solely out of spite towards Alison LeVere). Her hair was awkwardly teased into a bun, which looked like it could burst out into a fountain of hair at any moment, and her eyes looked as though they were about to be eclipsed by the dark circles under her eyes. Her girlfriend of one year had broken up with her the night before. At first, Violet considered her to be just another fling to pass the time- but as time went on, she began to form a soft spot for her quirks. She really thought she might have been in love. Clearly, her girlfriend had not felt the same. She pulled her laptop out of her bag, along with her notebook, her pencil case, her current case notes... everything she would need to deal with another Alison. Violet had sold the house she and Matt bought long ago. She could have afforded to keep it with her income as a PI, but every time she walked through the door, it was as though a lead arrow shot her in the stomach with the fact that she would never be as happy as she was building her future with Matt. She spent most of the money from the house on a tiny, bland apartment, comparable to her beige disaster of an office, and spent the rest buying drinks for attractive men and women in bars. She hardly thought of her past anymore- there wasn't any point. She just got on with her job and waited for death.

It was as she was flicking through one of her client's files (Wendy Han, 29, husband 24 years older than her, etc) when everything changed for Violet. There was a knock at her door, as there was every morning. "Come in!" She trilled, pulling her face into a puppet's smile and standing up to greet today's Alison. However it wasn't an Alison that walked in, but a young girl. She had shiny black hair cut into a choppy, tangled bob, tan skin and dark eyes. It looked as though she'd been wearing the same dark green hoodie and black jeans for a number of weeks. The girl sat down and stared at the floor. Given, this wasn't Violet's usual client- but there was no point getting her hopes up. Perhaps this girl was some rich millionaire's bastard child, and his new, young wife got rid of her- Cinderella style! Violet put her hand out to shake, as she did with every potential client- the girl continued staring at the floor. "Can I help you?" Violet asked in the same, chirpy tone she used with all her clients- and was once again met with no response. Perhaps this would be interesting. After a few minutes of silence, the girl looked up and stared straight at Violet. "Miss Heath please help me, my father's been murdered."

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Hello, it's been a while.

This came to me as an idea randomly at like 10, and then i finished at about midnight. So enjoy my midnight bullshittery and I'm sorry.

Liberum <3