Keys

Chapter 1

The sun rises on another beautiful August morning, birds soaring through the air, children and their pets going outside to play in the yard as their parents tiredly sip on their fresh coffee, retired couples sitting on their porch waving at those who drive by. All is well for most, that is except for our girl Violet here, who has to get up for another long and hard day of work. And it isn't that she doesn't enjoy her job, it's her dream to work on cars, it's just that people are very unkind to her in general.

You see, in this world, when a child is born, they are assigned a key, and it is required by law that when you watch someone die, you must take that person's assigned key and add it to your own chain, which has your key and possibly the keys of others.

Now back to our Violet, she currently has 12 keys total, and she's only 19 years old. Why does she have so many keys? Well, that's a story for another day I'm afraid. Right now we need to follow Violet on her walk to work. Her keys sitting on her neck, jingling a little with each step. As she walks past people on the sidewalk, she gets nasty glares and scoffs.

In this world each key is like a criminal charge, that is unless you gained that key for a rightful cause and you're assigned a special jacket that lets those around you know why that key is sitting along with your own. Violet doesn't have a jacket, so according to everyone around her, she is nothing more than a lawbreaker and a murderer. Now she's become pretty numb to the glares, scoffs, and whispers on her way to work, so she's quite unbothered at the moment.

She arrives at her work and clocks in, saying hello and good morning to the owner of the shop, an older and kindhearted man with thinning, wispy grey hair, and a very well cleaned peppery mustache, Steve. He has his own key, and sitting right beside it is his late wife's key. "Good morning Miss Violet, I take it you are doing well. How was the walk?"

"Oh, just as usual, no one got physical. What do we have to work on today?"

"So far I just have an old pickup that needs new brakes and an SUV that needs the oil changed. Other than that some organizing around the shop"

So our dear Violet got to work, changing out the brakes and the oil of those vehicles in record time, additionally cleaning the windshields before heading to the lobby to call the people to pick up their cars. The owner of the old Pickup, a woman in her forties is sitting patiently along with her daughter, looking around 17 or 18, who is tapping away on a smartphone that doesn't look cheap. The mother has three keys, and the daughter only has one. Violet calls the first name of the mother and she gets up with a content smile on her face.

"It's all done," says Violet, draping an old, worn-out towel over her shoulder,

"Wonderful! Oh...". The mother changes her gaze from Violet's eyes down to the keys around her neck. "I'll... just take my keys and we will be heading out. Thanks." She says, now hesitantly, waving her daughter over. She hurriedly grabs her car keys and leaves to her pickup which is now moved to the parking lot.

With a sigh Volet turns around and starts organizing the back counter of the main lobby, moving washers and bolts into separate containers on a shelf. Once she's finished she wipes her hands off on a towel and replaces her old, slightly cracked glasses back on her face, when a little boy, only four or five years old notices her keys. "Mom! Look at all those keys!" He exclaims, more amazed, and curious than frightened. The mother, on the other hand, only shows a face which is a mixture of surprise and disgust. Quickly she clasps her son's hand and stormed out of the shop. This scene attracts a middle-aged man, who looks like he doesn't get out all too much, well, because he looks crusty. Like, really sleazy and gross crusty.

Well, he looks up from whatever magazine he was half-skimming through and looks at Violet. Immediately he grows angry and shoots up from his seat to stomp way too close to Violet's face, the smell of sweat, pizza, and bad breath encasing them in a cage of odor. "DISGUSTING!" He screams, spraying spit all over her face. "Why would anyone hire a key collector like you! I'm not letting anyone with that many keys work or go near my car!" The next thing is known, a loud slap rings through the shop. Silencing all whispers and bringing all the attention, which most of it already was, towards Violet and the man. "Serves you right" He huffs, and walks out of the building, almost proud of doing what he did as if it was an act of service to the people.

Quickly and quietly, Violet collects herself, tears running down her face, slightly cooling off her hot, red cheek. She scurries back to the employes' only lounge, where she takes her lunch break early. She sits and she cries and she winces at the mark slowly fading on her face until Steve walks in for his own lunch break, who gasps and immediately gets her some ice and asks her what happened. Once she tells the story of the actions from earlier he tells her that she's okay to head home for the day if she'd like; it's been a slow day anyways and he can hold down the fort on his own. Refusing his offer, Violet cleans herself up and flashes a reassuring smile. "I'm alright Steve, really. It's just a rough day is all, we all get them and the best thing you can do is just be strong and work through it".

With that she walks back out of the lounge, only to have a passerby scoff and simply say "Murderer" as they pass by her. She turns around and walks back into the lounge to tell Steve that she's changed her mind and that she'll be heading out for the day. He gives off a sympathetic smile and says, "Tomorrow will be better" where she replies with a slightly sarcastic "Yeah right" and leaves the shop, tucking her keys underneath her shirt.

On her walk home, she sees a new food truck for sandwiches parked on the side of the rod not too far from her house. Having used her lunch break to compel herself and not to actually eat lunch, you could probably guess that her stomach was growling a little. So she gets into the line for the truck, which goes by fairly quick.

On her turn, she orders one of their specials, just a toasted ham and swiss sandwich. Right after making her order, the man inside the truck asks, "How many keys?" nonchalantly. With a sigh, Violet pulls the chain of keys out from underneath her shirt, replying with "Twelve". The man looks up from the counter and with a flat, monotone voice, says, "No service to more than five keys"

"But I have mon-"

"No. Exceptions."

With yet another sigh, Violet trudged away from the truck, making her way to her house again. She arrives at an alley that is right before her apartment complex, dank and musty, with a hint of sulfur wafting through the hair.

Once she enters the alley she immediately releases all the anger she has been building up throughout the day, ripping off the chain on her neck and nearly throwing it up against the wall before falling to her knees and bring them up to her forehead, not noticing the tears streaming down her face and dripping off her nose. She lets it all out. All the hurt, pain, anger, and fear she has to bear every day, all the accusations and prejudices made about her without wondering why she ended up in this situation. She stays in this position, keys pressed against her forehead, so close to the ground, frozen, staying inside her mind until she gets jolted back to reality when she hears,

"Hey"

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A/N:

Hey guys! Whether you found me from TikTok or through Wattpad I just want to say thank you so much! This first part really followed the first video I made on the keypov but the other parts will be more independent, only hinting on the other videos. I hope you guys really enjoyed this and you'll stick around for more! I will only be telling Violet's story but there are others working on stories with the same pov and I've been in contact with some of them! But yeah here we are and I will be working on the second part as soon as I'm able!