Hi, my name is Violet, I am sixteen-years-old. I have a thing about me that not anyone really knows, or they don't really need to know either. I know it is so normal, but at the same time the inner core of myself just says no. I'm a little weird with guys, I actually don't think I'm attracted to them. I can't let my family members know that, god knows how they'd all react. I'm not prepared for it, not gonna lie. I live in a trailer with my parents, barely even getting by anymore; but at least we have a roof over our heads.
I tend to my usual chores, do the laundry, hang them out outside on the clothing line; then proceed to go back into the trailer with the clothes where my mom was sitting on the run down couch. "Violet," She looked at me, her eyes drooped and she reeked. "Could you go out for a bit?" I nodded, "Sure, why?" Her half smile was what seemed to tell a thousand stories. "Oh well, he's coming back later today and I don't want you to see that." She got up from her chair, almost falling over. Her attire stained and holes were poking through at the bottom of her pajama pants. "Jesus Christ..." I mumbled, holding her together. "Is that the...?"
"Yeah, Matthew, he's handing me some-" she swatted away my arm. "you don't need them." She said to me, batting one eyelid. "Mom," she shoved me away, saying, "Go on," I sighed, defeated. I walked towards the end of the trailer where me and my parents rooms were. I grabbed an old backpack that had a wide selection of pins all of which were painted by me. "I'll be back tomorrow." I walked over and hugged my mom, each step away was like walking on a field of flowers.
I get outside the worn down trailer, lock it up and start walking somewhere else. Outside was a complete scenery of trees, mosquitoes, rocks, twigs...you name it, they all accompanied me on a walk I had taken so many times before. I couldn't imagine how my younger self managed to live on the streets like I did, a long time ago.
It took hours, my feet ached and the air was freezing to the point my nose was turning pink. I walked up to the nearby Walgreens, and didn't bother going inside. The outside of it was sketchy, as always, but it was kind of just my zone to just "chill." Even if that meant making friends with random hobos or druggies you find near the movie machine. I slide off my backpack, pull up my hoodie, and looked up to the sky as the cars zoomed nearby on the roads. If I could ever take anything back, I wouldn't, because this moment was great. The air was filled with familiar scents of cold, the smell of upcoming rain, the sounds of car engines; the doors closing and opening by pedestrians alike. I rest my eyes for a few minutes, but those minutes turned into hours.
I opened my eyes quickly, as a burning sensation took grasp of my arm alarmingly. I rolled up my long sleeves, breathed in, and saw that someone was writing on me—my soulmate. They never wrote me before, and their runic writing is a little bit wonky, maybe they're still learning it. I quickly opened my backpack and took out a pen, I yanked off the cap and began writing below the words that my soulmate had written in. They wrote, "Hi" on our arms.
"Hello" I replied, after trying to figure out how on earth I could write in runes without making it seem like I can't spell.
"Where are you?" They ask
"New York, and you?" I tried writing in my usual ink, however it stopped writing so I looked for a green colored pen and started to write with that instead.
"West Virginia" I hesitated, what do I say now? Why is speaking to someone you've never even met that is supposedly your soulmate, so hard to speak to? They're my soulmate, so why on earth is this so...weird? We've never talked before, never had the thought to, I just kinda let them take the first conversation but I wasn't really expecting it like this.
"Cool" I wrote on ourselves. Oh god, was that too rough? Or even, was that too bad of a response? Fuck.
"Are you a boy?" My heart skipped a beat at this question, and oh god, should I lie? What if they're a boy? Why would I lie to my soulmate, that's just silly, Violet... Come on, I can't lie to them, okay, okay... I'm cool—I got this, yes I do.
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The Red Rose
Fanfiction**Story contains sensitive materials, examples are PTSD-related flashbacks, negative self talk, abuse, and swearing** A Runic language that was invented over eighty-thousand years ago, still exists today and is considered a second written language f...