Icy Violets
"Violet Christine Del Bario McMillan!" a voice shrieked from downstairs.
Uh oh, Violet thought. Mom's using my full name. Not good.
"Coming mom!" Violet shouted back. She grabbed her guitar case, slung her bag over her shoulder and lugged her suitcase downstairs. She saw her father in the hallway, all packed and ready to go.
"Hey dad," she greeted him. He grinned back and helped her load her suitcase into the car.
"I bet you're glad you've go me for a dad, what with your mother," he joked, grinning at her.
"And I bet you don't want me to tell mom you said that, don't you?" Violet replied in a mock whisper, smirking.
What her father had said was true, to some extent. Her mother was Asian, a beautiful dark haired beauty from the Philippines. But like all Asian mothers, she was a tiger mother. Having a British father like hers kept her from going insane from her mother's obsession with perfection and cleanliness. yet, behind all that craziness, her mother had a good heart, which was in the right place... most of the time.
"Violet," her mother scolded, appearing in the hallway. "If I hadn't called you out of your room, you would've missed your flight."
"Mom, I'm fourteen!" Violet groaned. "I don't need to be told. I was on my way down anyway," Right now, her mother was in one of her lecturing moods.
"Maria, dear," her father cut in. "If you're going to lecture us on punctuality and tardiness, we're definitely not going to be able to see my mother!"
"Honey, it's a fourteen hour flight to England! You need to be at the airport early,"
"Well, there won't be a flight if you keep badgering us! Besides, if we leave now, we'll make it to the airport by two thirty, four hours before the flight."
Violet sighed. Her parents had been fighting more often nowadays, bickering about the tiniest things. Like about this trip, Violet thought miserably. Violet
was going to visit her grandmother in England, and her parents had been arguing about who would go with her. Both couldn't come, as someone had to stay and take care of her little sister, who was now 2 months old. Eventually, her mother had decided to stay, as she didn't want to "go out in the open while she was still fat".
"Okay, now we can go!" her father announced, pulling Violet out of her thoughts. "Your mother has graced us with the permission to leave her presence,"
"Arthur," her mother said in a threatening tone.
"Mom, come on, you can't kill dad now, he needs to take me to see granny!" Violet whined.
They all hugged and kissed goodbye, climbing into the car, setting off for the airport. For some reason, Violet felt as if something...something was going to happen.
They were in the car, which was driving along an old road somewhere in the country in England, on the way to her grandmother's house. Having been born in the exciting modern city life of Hong Kong, the sight of houses; beautiful houses with flourishing gardens and a clear blue sky was a rather nice change of scenery. But above all, the tranquility. She had grown accustomed to the screaming of old Chinese ladies, vendors selling fake or reject items, tourist mainlanders constantly bellowing and belching in public places, the constant roaring of traffic, the bright city lights...
Yet here, in the country, nothing could have been more different. And she was just that as well - different. Her dark skin, petite figure and height stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the fair skin and the tall heads in England. Even back home, she didn't fit in. Her light brown hair stood out from the sea of black hair, and her eyes - how peculiar they were, hazel with flecks of green and gold, framed by thick, long lashes. Not to mention, she was extremely pretty. Violet would do anything to take all of that away. All she wanted was to be like everyone else, to blend into the background. She even had her hair straightened, so it would match the naturally straight hair of her schoolmates. In the summer, she avoided wearing shorts, as she hated exposing her legs, which were long and attractive, and got her too much attention for her taste. Yet although she had done so much to fit in, she only had one friend - Ian, her best friend since childhood.
But there was a time when she wasn't afraid to be herself, to stand out, when she didn't care... no, she would not think of that now. Not that dreaded night. Violet cursed the tears that threatened to spill over and tried to look for something... anything to take her mind off that night three years ago...
*FLASHBACK*
Club Serena Resort, Philippines, 3 years ago, 10:30 pm
Violet was on vacation with her family in the Philippines, at a resort called Club Serena. She and her family were walking back to their rooms after stargazing on the beach, when Violet realized she had left her shawl on the gazebo by the beach. She then told her parents to go ahead while she went back to get her shawl, for fear it would be stolen by morning.
The shawl was her favourite one, made of thin linen, dyed a deep blue, so blue that it was almost black, with fringes round the edges. Her mother had gotten it for her off a vendor's cart a few years ago in India, for about five dollars worth. She had taken it many places since, and cherished it dearly.
She arrived at the beach and walked towards the gazebo where she and her family had been stargazing earlier that night. When she finally reached the gazebo, she found no trace at all of her shawl. Violet hissed in frustration and began muttering curses profusely, making her way back. But just as she did, she heard footsteps behind her, sand being kicked and stepped on. She froze, not sure how to react. Being in the Philippines, it could be anyone from on of the beach guards or a serial killer. She whipped around abruptly to fine herself face to face with a tall and handsome boy.
"Looking for something?" he grinned, holding up Violet's shawl. She blushed furiously - ever since she had arrived at the resort, she'd developed a little bit of a crush on this boy. His name was Marc, the fifteen year old son of the resort owner. He had dark curls, and gorgeous, dreamy brown eyes. He was also known as quite a ladies man, even at his young age... well, at least with girls his age.
Violet pulled herself together and muttered her thanks, taking her scarf back. Marc glanced towards the shore, then back to her, his eyes scouring her up and down.
"You know," he said slowly."The beach is most beautiful at night, everything is just white and black, so simple, so beautiful,"
"Yeah," Violet agreed. "And the stars are beautiful as well. It's why me and my family come her every summer, just to look at the stars..."
He ignored her, but instead, his eyes began to travel up and down her body, finally resting on her eyes, staring at her intensely.
"But not as beautiful as you," he whispered. Violet gasped when she realized what his intentions were.
"I-I really should be going back," she stammered, beginning to back away. "My parents-"
Marc caught up to her, his lips crashing down on hers. She began to struggle, terrified at what was happening to her. His hands pinned her arms down, holding them in a viselike grip. He roughly pushed her to the sand then climbed on top of her, straddling her, trapping her beneath him.
Violet then did the first thing that came to mind.
She screamed.
She screamed the loudest she had ever screamed. That was until she felt a cloth being stuffed into her mouth, abruptly cutting off her air supply, along with several grains of sand cascading down her throat. She began to choke and cough, and the cloth - which she later discovered was her shawl - was removed for a while so she could breathe, before being violently shoved back into her mouth.
She gave up, gave in, stopped fighting, once she felt the cold night air brushing against her skin. She was now bare, bare for him to use and abuse. She sobbed and sobbed, in helplessness and despair as she felt the harsh sounds of skin slapping on skin. As he shoved into her and violated her. As he shattered her into a million pieces on the inside. As she listened to him grunt and pant all over her... it was all she could do, until the blissful void of darkness, of nothingness claimed her.
*END OF FLASHBACK*
Violet had been found the next day by a beach guard, lying in the sand, unconscious, hand tied to the gazebo, covered in bruises, with her shawl still in her mouth.
Marc had been arrested and put behind bars for ten years. Violet was given counseling, but it didn't help. Marc had taken too much from her; her virginity, her confidence, her personality, but most importantly, her had shattered her childhood dream, that the world might actually have some good in it. Shattered and thrown to the wind, at the tender age of eleven. even though it had already been three years since her attack, her sleep was still plagued by nightmares of him coming back to get her once more.
Ever since that fateful night, Violet had done everything in her power never to stand out, so she would never have to relive those memories again. She was only ever herself when she locked herself in her room, where she was sure no one could see her. Only then would she let herself open up, when she would lose herself in her music or her art.
"Violet?" her father said gently. "Are you alright?"
Dammit, she was crying. Weak, vulnerable crybaby, she scolded herself. She sniffed and wiped her tears away.
"It's nothing I can't handle," Violet muttered. Her father nodded, and continued driving.
"Just wanted to tell you we're almost there," he told. Violet was grateful that her father understood - sharing was not the best thing for her, most of the time. If she wanted to share, she would tell him.
At last, they had arrived. As soon as the car pulled into the driveway, an old lady shuffled out the front door as fast as she could.
"Violet!" the old lady squealed.
"Granny!" Violet exclaimed, climbing clumsily out of the car, running to her grandmother. Before she knew it, Violet was being crushed in her grandmother's embrace, which was surprisingly strong despite the woman's old age of eighty two.
"Oh, Violet dear," her grandmother gasped. "You've grown so tall, and so beautiful too!"
"Thanks granny," she grinned back. She inhaled her grandmother's scent. Her grandmother smelled nothing like the old people back in Hong Kong - she wore rosewater perfume and used strawberry scented shampoo, that kept her her smooth and soft, even though it was a shocking white. Despite her many wrinkles, her eyes glistened with a youthful energy that made her grandmother look younger than her years.
Suddenly a loud thud interrupted their embrace.
"Violet!" her father groaned. " Come help me with these bloody suitcases!"
"Arthur William McMillan! You know better than to use have foul language rolling off your tongue like that!" her grandmother scolded. Violet giggled as her father turned red at being addressed like a child, and wondered what her grandmother would say if she knew just how much Violet swore on a daily basis. Then Violet went to help her father, while her grandmother scuttled back into the house to make tea.
"Oh, and Violet?" her grandmother called over her shoulder, smiling. "I made your favourite cinnamon cookies,"
Violet gasped, dropped her bags and ran into the house. Her father shook his head helplessly as he went to drag all the luggage to the house on his own.
Violet was in the kitchen with her grandmother, chewing through her ninth cinnamon cookie when her father trudged down the stairs after having put all the bags upstairs.
"Mother," he said exasperatedly. "You couldn't have just waited to announce that you made cookies until after Violet helps me with the bags?"
"Sorry Arthur dear, but Violet would've smelled them from the hallway and abandoned you anyway," her grandmother replied, chuckling.
"Essh choo," Violet piped up through a mouthful of cookies.
"Pardon? Violet don't talk with your mouth full," the old lady scolded.
Violet then gulped down the cookies and repeated. "It's true. I would've smelled them,"
Everyone at the table laughed and continued to eat.
"Oh, I've just remembered!" her grandmother exclaimed suddenly. "I promised Susan I'd go visit her today. I'm afraid her time's coming soon," she added with a sad smile.
"You're not talking about Mrs. Fairwood are you, granny?" Violet gasped in shock.
"I'm afraid so," her grandmother replied. Mrs. Fairwood was like another grandmother to Violet. She had told her stories as a child, about magical lands in wardrobes, great kings and queens, grand lions and evil witches...
Mrs. Fairwood lived in an old worn down mansion, a couple of miles from the small town Violet' grandmother lived in. People have often tried to persuade her to move to another place, but the good old lady refused to budge. Nobody could see why she was so attached to the old mansion, when she could just sell the historical artifacts that came with the house, and use the money to buy another.
"So when do we live?" Violet asked, standing up to brush the crumbs off her pants.
"Right now, if you don't mind," her grandmother replied." You don't have to come if you're tired Arthur," she added, noticing Violet's father yawning. He nodded and slunk up the stairs.
"Come now Violet," her grandmother said, walking towards the door. "We'll have Ernie next door drive us there,"
Violet pondered on how persuasive her grandmother could be when she wanted to. With a combination of offers for her special rum and fruit cake, dinner at her house the next week and a gift of a bottle of fine whiskey, Ernie, or Uncle Ernie as Violet liked to call him, her grandmother's cranky old neighbor, obliged to drive them.
"You know Violet," her grandmother began. "No matter how old and cranky they get, the way to a man's heart will always be through his stomach,"
"Who're you calling 'old and cranky'?" he scowled, making a face that made Violet giggle.
After Ernie had dropped them off, Violet and her grandmother stood in front of the huge doors of the mansion where Mrs. Fairwood lived, waiting for someone to answer the door after having rung the bell several times.
No matter how many times she had been here, Violet was still amazed by the old mansion, no less so than the first time she had been could tell it once must have been very beautiful and grand... well, at least in Violet's eyes it still was, but she understood that not everyone could see the beauty hidden beneath. That was one of the advantages of being a loner. She observed everything with an open mind, and was able to perceive things that most people found hard to see.
If she could be grateful about her attack for one thing, it would be how her being made socially inept opened her eyes to the world - she didn't use her mouth as much as she used to, and this gave her time to use her other senses. With that, she noticed things she'd never noticed before. She'd noticed that the flowers in the school garden smelled and looked wonderful, which further led her to art, sketching every flower she saw. She began to label each species of flowers that she sketched with a name and an expression... this one was cheerful, this one was depressing, this one looked mischievous, this one was mysterious... she also noticed how sometimes, if the wind was strong enough, the trees could dance, the leaves whispering a tune, while the branches moved to the beat.
But most importantly, she noticed that people were beginning to notice her. Boys, to be more specific. Some merely glanced at her a little too much, while others nudged their friends and pointed, staring dreamily. Some even approached her. Violet had examined herself properly in the mirror for the first time since the attack, after she had been approached by a tall, menacing-looking man. She realized she was too pretty for her own good. She'd always thought that she'd love to have the attention of the opposite sex, but after what Marc had done, she was sure she could never trust a boy again, except for Ian, her best friend. How could she be sure that none of them would be like him?
That night, Violet promised herself to never trust a man again, (unless she had known him for her whole life or could be proved trustworthy) especially handsome ones, and made sure that she wouldn't ever be noticed again. She never styled her hair obsessively anymore, but left it down, so it could conceal as much of her face as it could. She wore dark, baggy clothes to hide her figure which was beginning to blossom and become more prominent as she entered teen hood. She only ever exposed her neck and her arms from the elbow down, even in the intense heat of a Southeast Asian summer. She kept her head and eyes down when she walked in the streets, so no one would notice the hazel orbs flecked with green and gold, and think them beautiful. So if she was ever to be noticed again, it would be to think her weird or ugly... ans she was perfectly fine with that. Her mother had thrown a fit when she first saw Violet dressed in baggy jeans, worn out Converse sneakers, a loose tee over a blouse and a hoodie on top, but her father had understood, and only gave her a sad nod.
Finally, Mrs. Fairwood's housekeeper, Mrs. Bucketts, a short chubby woman whom Violet though was too cheerful for her own good but liked anyway, wrenched the door open and squealed in delight.
"Ooh! Ma'am Susan has been waiting for you Ma'am Rose!" Mrs. Bucketts exclaimed, clapping her hands together. "And you've brought Miss Violet as well! Oh, Ma'am Susan will be happy to see you before she..." her face faltered. Violet's grandmother saved the day.
"Well, what are we all waiting for?" she said. "Let's go see Susan!"
Mrs. Fairwood refused to stay in the master bedroom of the mansion, but in the spare rooms on one of the upper floors instead. Again, no one knew what drew her there. They all arrived in the spare room which was Mrs. Fairwood's, and knocked on the door.
"Ma'am Susan?" Mrs. Bucketts asked tentatively. "Someone's here to see you!"
Mrs. Fairwood's eyes, a beautiful light grey even in her old age, lit up as she saw Violet and her grandmother. Mrs. Fairwood and Violet's grandmother talked for a while, and Violet stood there awkwardly, gazing around the room, until her eyes settled on a wardrobe at the back of the room. She marveled at the intricacy of the carvings on the door; vines and flowers, a number of magical creatures... and them she saw the lion.
A flash of light cut across her vision, and she saw blurred images dance across her mind. Violet gasped as she saw someone who looked too much like herself... no way, she thought. I could never be that happy. The girl was laughing and walking with a light step, her eyes glinting with happiness.
Then she heard the voice. A deep voice ringing in her ears, that made her gasp in shock.
REMEMBER, CHILD. THE TIME IS NEAR.
Violet's eyes flew open when she heard a deafening roar. She was lying on the dusty floor, everyone hovering over her. Mrs. Bucketts helped her up and asked if she was alright.
"I'm fine," Violet replied, nodding. "How long was I out?"
"Just a few seconds," her grandmother replied. "I was just talking to Susan, and then you looked at the wardrobe and then fainted! You gave us all a fright! Maybe you should go home..."
"No!" Violet said immediately. "I want to stay and talk to Mrs. Fairwood."
"Oh, Violet," Mrs. Fairwood sighed. "You don't have to-"
"I want to," Violet insisted, taking Mrs. Fairwood's hand. Her wrinkled face lit up.
"I would like Violet and I to be left alone, Rose. Mrs, Bucketts, why don't you see Rose to the sitting room?" Mrs. Fairwood asked them. They left the room, leaving Violet alone with the old lady. She then turned to Violet.
"Violet it is time. Go to the wardrobe over there and at the very back, look for Lucy," she whispered.
"Lucy?" Violet asked incredulously, looking at the frail woman as if she was crazy. "A person? At the back of your wardrobe?"
Mrs. Fairwood smiled and pointed to the wardrobe. Violet sighed in defeat. If it would make Mrs. Fairwood happy, then she would do it. She then walked to the wardrobe and opened it.
"Oh, and Violet?" Mrs. Fairwood called. "There's no need to come back. You'll see." her eyes twinkled. Violet nodded and entered the wardrobe, to look for whatever it was the senile old lady wanted, and more... though she didn't know it yet.
Author's note: This is my first fanfic, so go easy on me. See that little pretty blue button down there? How about clicking that for me, eh? Constructive criticism will be accepted, and I hope you all enjoy!