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THIS IS HOW A PERSON DIES:
Violet can see the end before it begins, and it makes her want to scream, but she doesn't, because Violet Korchak doesn't lose her cool. In fact, she's buried the urge, one-by-one, and all the screams inside her have accumulated like leviathans straining against her skin, desperate and hungering to break free. So it comes to her in pieces. Bits and pieces. Broken shards of a mirror scintillating the past onto the walls, bloodied glass embedded like jewels in her knuckles—this part's all in her head, really, because if she can't hurt herself to get the screams out of her body, then she can imagine it. But the first piece comes to her sooner than she can anticipate.
When Violet emerged from the bathroom, showered and changed into a set of pajamas, towelling her hair dry, the lights in her bedroom were off, but she thought nothing of it. All she wanted to do was lie down and forget about tonight. Her stomach growled, and she thought about going downstairs to sneak a snack from the pantry, but thought against it. If her father was working late, he'd see her, and she didn't want to see him. At least, not for awhile as she tried to configure her thoughts around this recent development.
Absently, she reached for the light switch. She was pretty sure she'd turned the lights on when she came into her bedroom after the whole ordeal with her father, but she'd been in such a muddled state of shock that everything else that came after had been a massive blur in her memory.
Until she looked up and froze in place.
A pair of glowing red eyes glowered back at her from somewhere in the corner of her bedroom. Violet could make out a silhouette, just barely discernible from the dark.
Fear was a steel hand plunging her head in a bucket of icy water, and an involuntary shudder ran down her spine. Her skin prickled, and every primal instinct in her screamed for her to run.
Instinctively, her fingers sought out the knives beneath her sleeves, but found nothing but scored flesh. Her stomach plummeted and her heartbeat rang in her ears.
The figure began to move, and Violet took a step back before stopping herself. If this was Victoria come to collect what was due, Violet had every faith in Alice's prophecy not coming true. And if that was the case, if Alice was wrong, and if the vision was susceptible to change, then Violet wouldn't go down so easy. Even if Victoria could end her in the blink of an eye. She wouldn't die on her knees. She wouldn't give that monster the pleasure of her suffering. But then the figure stepped closer, footfalls disquietingly noiseless against the hardwood floor, and the shadows began to fall away. Violet saw blonde hair, and her breath stalled and the world around her warped as her heart stopped.
"Luka?"
☾
THE SECOND PIECE comes to her the next night when she's just ruminating over the first. This time, she does not fantasise about blood and pain, but there is, undeniably, a rotting wound that hasn't scarred over yet.
