AN: First, I'm way behind on posting here, so I'm just going to say: Seeking more fic? Visit my LJ - sentient-mist [DOT] livejournal [DOT] com
Secondly, this is a new fic project of mine, simply known as 'Violet.' I am really excited about it because it's a bit different from what I'm used to writing. For more information and quicker updates, I suggest checking out Violet's journal - violet-hope [DOT] livejournal [DOT] com
With that out of the way, here begins the fun! I hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: While Violet Hope Magnus is my own creation, I have absolutely rights to Sanctuary and/or it's characters and world. This is purely for entertainment purposes.
Summary: I began this journal in an attempt to free myself of the demons that seem to constantly haunt me. Some days, it works. Most days, it leaves me more confused than when I started, and I lie awake, staring at the ceiling, praying daylight comes before they manage to swallow me whole. I guess we all have our own demons to battle, and I'm luckier than most. You see, I have a hero, someone who has saved me from myself on more than one occasion. I owe her more than I'll ever be able to repay. She taught me that even when it's miserable, living is the better option. She's the reason I keep fighting. My name is Violet, and this is my story.
My name is Violet Hope Magnus. Violet. The 'Magnus' is adoptive rather than biological, and the 'Hope' was added later, more of a prayer than a belief, when the orphanage realized I would never be like all the other kids. Hell, Violet isn't even my real name. It's a street name, coined because of my strikingly violet eyes that burn in sharp contrast to my fiery curls that fall just past my shoulder blades in wild disarray. Really, I guess, I'm a somewhat ridiculous amalgamation of pieces that don't quite fit together, artificial. A ghost, if you will. Before, this may have bothered me, but I've come to realize the ignorance of others shouldn't be allowed to feed my self-hatred. Life is still murky as hell, but some aspects of living are clearer to me now. Much clearer than they were.
***It's a dark night, cold. I wrap my arms tightly around my stomach, trying futilely to ward off the chill that's quickly seeping through my skin-tight, see-through top. My jean skirt barely covers my ass, and I pointlessly tug at it, hoping for more coverage. My legs are freezing. The rain-slicked pavement glistens in the warm glow of the street lights, and I get lost for a small eternity, watching it glimmer. The sharp click of heels snaps me back to reality seconds before Crystal, a lanky blonde in clothes skimpier than mine, is at my shoulder. "Sweetie, you're not gonna make no money standin' 'round here."
"I know," I murmur, restlessly. "I'm freezing. Is there any way I can slip off tonight?" My tone is hopeful, but I know better than to think leaving is an option.
"Sorry, darlin'. You know Slick upped the quota. No one here can afford to cover for ya." Something shifts in her eyes, and she sighs. "Look, why don't you head that way," she lazily indicates the building to her left, "and pick up some upper class clients. They're always the wild ones," she adds with a soft clucking sound. "Might be demeaning, but give 'em what they want for an additional fee, and you can earn the money twice as fast." I catch the flicker of a smile before it disappears into her hardened features.
"Thanks," I whisper, almost inaudibly, watching her cherry red heels as she moves down the street and vanishes around a corner.
I teeter nervously on my black stilettos. I've always looked old for my age. I'm tall, just under six feet, standing flat. In these heels, I'm closer to 6'3". Combine my unusual height with haunted, street-etched features, glossed over with light makeup, and I look a good five years older than I really am. Still, is a fourteen-year-old girl really capable of fooling a bunch of rich, middle-aged men? Guess there's only one way to find out. Taking a deep breath, I start walking in the direction Crystal had pointed. Maybe I would get lucky and make my quota early.***
Life can be funny that way, can't it? I guess none of it is really supposed to make sense, especially when you're young, but hey, how can we learn to live if we never learn how to fail?
