Violet

Tragedy Strikes

The sound of sirens pull my mind back into focus. Red and blue lights shine in through the front windows as tires crunch on the gravel driveway.

My left eye stings, probably blood splattered from my mother.

She lays lifeless in front of me on the hardwood floor, crimson pouring from the hole in her temple.

The gun fell from her hand as she hit the floor, it lies a few inches from her now.

Its strange how slowly time can move when you're in shock.

Every breath, every blink, it all seems to be in cinematic slo-mo.

"You're a monster." She'd said, holding the gun between my eyes. "And so am I." The memory echos through my mind.

She had closed her eyes tight, aiming the gun at herself instead, pulling the trigger instantly.

I didn't scream or cry, I didn't do anything.

I can't bring myself to react, my brain is full of cotton and things don't feel real.

Is this real?

I look down at my hands in my lap, porcelain skin speckled with blood and something a little chunkier... tiny pieces of her brain and skull maybe.

Jesus Christ.

I take another slow blink.

My gaze is drawn to the door as it bursts open, two police officers stepping in. Their weapons are drawn but they lower them once they take in the scene.

A teenage girl sitting on her knees in the floor a few feet away from her apparently suicidal mother. I don't remember sinking to my knees but obviously I did at some point.

How long have I sat here?

One officer pulls a blanket from our couch and drapes it over my mothers body. I suppose he's trying to be courteous, hide the body from my view. But I've been staring at it this whole time, she did it right in front of me- a blanket won't erase that.

"Sweetheart?" I finally notice the older officer in front of me, trying to get my attention.

His blue eyes are kind, voice soft and concerned. He places a gentle hand on my shoulder and gives me a weak smile.

"What's your name?"

It takes me a minute, like I've forgotten myself in this horrible event, faded from reality and dissolved within this one agonizing moment.

I clear my throat, blinking rapidly as time starts to move at a regular pace.

"Violet." It comes back to me, along with the realization that I now have no living parents.

"Hair to match the name." He smiles, gesturing to my vibrant purple bob.

I nod but don't smile, his attempt to take my mind off of my mother is moot; blood now soaking through the grey blanket.

"Let's get you out of here." He says, following my gaze.

As he helps me to my feet I notice his badge, he's the sheriff.

"I'm Sheriff Stilinski, we're gonna take you to the station now, okay?"

I give another silent nod, following him to his car.

***

Once we're at the sheriff's station, Stilinski asks me some basic questions about what happened tonight.

Afterwards, he shows me to the bathroom so I can clean up. I stare at myself in the mirror for a long time. Blood stains my light wash denim shorts, the frays of the legs look like they've been dipped in scarlett paint. My charcoal crop top doesn't show the color as well, but when I run my hand across the front, the blood that hasn't dried comes off on my fingers.