Violet rarely speaks, so when you find yourself hearing her voice, you either cherish it or start running.
Being a selective mute who's power is to disappear, Violet Hargreeves hasn't aged ever since Five's powers kicked back at her for trying to st...
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REWRITTEN.
When Violet opened her eyes she became aware of two very troubling things.
One, her hair was matted to the side of her head with something that could only be described as blood; the blasting pain in her skull was so immense it made her eyes water the second they prised open.
And two, she was tied by her wrists and ankles to a chair.
The muffled whir of voices around her span through her pounding head. She clenched her fists only for a whimper to escape her lips at the sharp shooting pain that went up her right hand.
It took a long moment for her eyes to focus but when they did, they landed on the knife pinning her hand to the arm of the chair. Blood coated her pale hand, seeping out from the centre of the stab wound and dripping down into a puddle on the dirty carpeted floor.
The pain began to slowly register, causing her to release a shaky breath to ease her blinding panic. Everytime her pulse thumped a wave of pain coarsed through her arm, burning at her nerves like a hot poker.
Her eyes trailed up her bare arm, noting she no longer had a jumper on and was left in a black tee-shirt that had sections crusted over with blood stains that she didn't remember getting. Her eyebrows furrowed and she swallowed thickly, focusing on healing the wound on her head first and foremost so that she could think.
Her thoughts were sluggish, slow to catch up with her surroundings. She swallowed back the lump in her throat and fought the urge to grimace at how sore it felt - the taste of Iron on her tongue was sickening.
She released a slow, deep breath in an attempt to snap herself out of the fog she was stuck in, blinking hard to dispel the blurriness in her vision.
"You picked the two worst people for this... no one will even notice I'm gone and she..." Klauses giggles met her ears and she tensed. "I mean, she doesn't even talk!"
She lifted her head.
Klaus was in a similar situation to her, except he wore only a towel round his waist and was much more awake and talkative.
Time between being at the house and her waking up now was a vague blur of discomfort and confusion that left her heart racing with uncertainly.
Two masked figures stood in front of him, dressed in sharp suits.
The motel room was dingy. The scent of old blood and dust was suffocating. The light above them had barely enough power to illuminate Klaus, let alone both of them. The door was bolted locked at the top and bottom, old curtains next to it drawn shut.
Violet shifted at the thought that she didn't even know what time of day it was.
Her mind went back to the attack at the diner - she vaguely wondered if these people had the same motive, or with the same people.
