Blood of a Violet
Prologue.
Darkness surrounds me. The Christmas lights wrapped around my bedpost seem to blur in my peripheral vision. I stare at the infantile pills that lay in the palm of my hand. My heartbeat slows as I move them ever the more closer to my mouth that's waiting in anticipation. I hear Lysander let out an exasperated sigh of boredom as he casually flips through one of my magazines over by the windowsill.
With one quick movement, I fling the twenty some-odd pills towards the back of my throat and swallow them down in one gulp. Lysander just rolls his eyes, but when I begin to sway back and forth a look of concern emerges on his face.
The shapes and outlines within my room begin to twirl and shift before me. My body slams against the mattress on my bed and I start to seize violently, causing Lysander to leap in the air, across the room, and appear by my side.
"Violet!" he screams. He takes the upper half of my body in his arms and attempts to control my shaking.
But honestly, it's no use. I'm aware of his strong arms and pleas of help for only a few more seconds until I black out completely.
When I wake up I'm staring into two bright emerald eyes swallowed by a shaggy head of midnight black.
"It was a lot worse this time Vi, you really had me freaked out," Lysander says softly.
"I didn't think it was going to be that bad," I reply. Without another thought, I jump off my bed and make my way to the bathroom.
Looking in the mirror, I see the same face as always- the same reddish pixie hair-do, the same jumble of freckles, and the same long eyelashes blinking away ages of tiredness. Nothing's changed, and in response I sigh with frustration.
"How the hell am I still alive?" I ask Lysander as I turn off the switch angrily and walk back into the room.
"Shit if I know," he retorts. "You're invincible…or something.
"That was, what? The tenth time I've tried to kill myself in the past week, right? What the hell's wrong with me? Wasn't I already enough of a freak?"
"Quit your complaining, would you? It's annoying, especially when we have no way of actually obtaining any answers," Lysander says. I can tell that he's angry with me because of the fact that I got closer to death this time round, and so I sit down next to him.
"I'm sorry," I whisper sincerely. I reach over to wrap my arms around his shoulders, but he slaps me in the face instead.
"What on earth was that?" I yell.
"That was for scaring me half to death," he replies solemnly, and then hugs me tightly in his arms.
"You've seriously got to be bipolar or something," I tell him, but he just holds on stronger and I don't object.