Violet feels like spending the entire day in bed, but she forgoes it. Don't get her wrong: she'll gladly take a sick day for all it's worth to skip being invisible or the source of being pushed into her locker. She hates school. She's a good student, pretty much A's without much effort, but she keeps trying to tell her parents she's okay with home schooling. They, however, thinks she needs to be around kids her own age or some bullshit like that. She's tired, barely eating anything, and when she is eating something she's throwing it back up. Her immune system has always been shit, so it's no wonder she's caught some bug. "Are you sure you feel up to going today?" Her mother asks worriedly, stroking her protruding stomach with a baby Violent only sees as their last chance to save her parent's shitty marriage. "I can call the school if you need another day's rest…" Violet shakes her head, negating her mother's attempts at, well, being one.

She hates making her parents worry. She'd rather be neglected than worried about. It makes her feel like shit.

"It's just some dumb bug," Violet explains with a shrug. "It's nothing." With that, she pulls on a simple black dress, purple cardigan to go over, and a pair of dirty high-tops as she shrugs her bag over her shoulder and makes her way to hell, also known as High School.

Truth be told, her shitty health can also be the result of Halloween night. No, not the sex part: losing her virginity wasn't like how it's talked about in the movies, it's dirtier and less choreographed, but it was amazing. She remembers how Tate felt in her and no matter how amazing it was—it was ruined by the Dead Breakfast Club. People that knew Tate too well, while Tate, himself, claimed not to know any of them. Stupid bitches…

It's been weeks, now, and she can't get what they told her out of her head. No matter how hard she tries, their voices keep her up at night, until she finally grows the balls to put her free study period to good use: finding shit out for herself.

She has been avoiding Tate, avoiding anything that reminds her of him, and avoiding looking up the Westfield Massacre for herself for weeks now. She can run all she wants but her curiosity always gets the best of her. She isn't great with patience, never has been, and her insatiable curiosity brings her to the school library to see if what happened actually occurred and it isn't some sick, sick joke. "Shit." She whispers under her breath, scrolling down at all the results. She clicks on the second one, thinking she wouldn't find anything worth it, the page loads and Violet loses her ability to think, function, anything.

Nineteen-ninety-four: fifteen students were killed.

The picture is identical to the teenage boy that was inside her just weeks ago. The same boy that sees her dad, saved her and her mom's life, and took her virginity on Halloween.

Tate Langdon: Track athlete, senior, shot and killed fifteen students.

He was killed in his home by a SWAT team.

He was killed in his home.

He was killed.

"Holy shit," is the only thing to escape Violet's mouth as she stands up on wobbly, long legs, backing away from the computer as if it's bathed in Ebola. "Miss Harmon, are you al—"

The librarian doesn't finish her question; as soon as her wrinkled hand is placed on the bony shoulder, Violet's legs give out and the whole world turns pitch black.

Her mom picks her up from school and Violet is sent straight to her room, no questions asked. Violet thanks god—even if she doesn't believe in one—that it's fucking Friday, so she can just sleep the weekend off and continue like nothing has happened. "You need to rest," her mom soothes, comfortingly, wiping Violet's dirty blonde hair from her face like she used to. "The nurse said your blood sugar was a little low, so I'm going to have Moira fix you up some Mac and Cheese." A pause, then she can feel her mother's chapped lips brush against her forehead. "I'm so, so sorry, Vi. I promise; things will get better, regardless of what happens with me and your father. I'm going to be here for you."

Violet can feel her eyes begin to well up, but she swallows a lump in her throat and gives a little nod. She isn't going to admit that she's terrified. Terrified of what she knows, of what's to become of her life, or what will happen with her parents failing marriage. She snuggles into one of her plush pillows, letting her eyes drift towards slumber.

R&R, guys! Tell me what you think? Constructive crit., please! Also, this fic is not beta'd and a revision of another story that I wrote similar to this one, but that would give the plot away, now, wouldn't it? :p