Time passes by and Violet enters her second trimester with another set of problems: gone is the nausea, but the gas, bloating, and never ending cramps aren't ceasing anytime soon. Violet also realizes she can't hide the bump anymore with baggy clothing and sweatshirts; she also realizes that now her stomach is so noticeable, only accented by the lame-ass maternity clothes her mother bought her, kids are forgetting she's supposed to be invisible and shove her into lockers. Leah doesn't. Not anymore. They have a silent respect, even friendship, after sharing what they experienced in the basement earlier in the year. "My dad's a lawyer," she comments at lunch, handing her some of her food because Violet always feels so fucking hungry twenty-four/seven, now. "And he had me when he was seventeen, so if those assholes try to shove you again, just let me know." Violet can't help but to smile. She knows Leah's friends—the stuck up bitches with bleached hair and designer clothes—don't care for her that much, but Leah doesn't care.
Despite Addy, and Tate doesn't count, Violet thinks Leah can be the first friend she's ever had.
It makes her feel guilty, despite her efforts not to, when she remembers it's Tate who traumatized Leah so badly it made her personality do a one-eighty overnight. She can't let Leah know this, though; she's still convinced it was the devil, even when Violet told her it wasn't so. She stops, now, because sometimes you have to let people believe what they want. "My parents are practically shoving adoption down my throat," Violet comments in between bites of the awful school pizza (yet, she eats it anyway). "I'm not. I mean, I don't even want to go to college, anyway. I only said I did to make them happy."
Leah nods, even if her friends "politely" excuse themselves, probably to puke what they did eat up.
Later after her appointment, Violet and her mom are eating in the food court, bags of baby essentials as well as pregnancy surrounding the table. "I want a home birth." Violet speaks up, causing Vivian to choke on her food. "What?" She asks after a swallow of her bottled water to clear her throat. "That's dangerous, Violet, and frankly after all we've seen in that house I wouldn't feel comfortable with you delivering there. That house…" Vivian trails off, visibly shaken. Violet knows, but Tate tells her that she can't say anything. She'll end up being considered insane just like her mom is. "Anyway, I know you don't want to talk about this—"
"—I'm not giving the baby up." Violet is adamant on that. She doesn't consider herself maternal in any way, shape, or form but after every sonogram appointment she makes peace with the fact she's too attached to even act like she could go through with it. "Mom, I get it, I do: I'm going to grow up quicker than I already am, but I can do it." A pause, only to eat some of her mother's food, because while her mom might think brains and pancreases are appetizing, Violet's baby likes it's food cooked. "Does dad know about Tate?"
Vivian nods, taking another gulp of her bottled water. "He's still going to treat Tate, but you can imagine how he's less than thrilled about him and you…" She trails off, not needing to expand the point anymore: Violet gets it. Still, it's kind of cool that her dad is still trying to help Tate; it just means he's a better man than she gives him credit for. "Your next appointment you'll be able to find out the gender," her mother prods, changing the subject. "Are you going to find out then, or at the birth?"
Violet gives a tiny shrug while all but annihilating her third Big Mac. "I guess. I want it to be a boy, but Tate wants it to be a girl."
"Your dad called it about you. I didn't care; I just wanted you to be healthy, happy and safe. He knew you were a girl from day one." Her mother reminisces, softly. Violet likes when she does this—it reminds Violet that once upon a time, her parents loved each other. It's nice to be reminded. "And same for the twins: we're having boys." Violet feels bad for not sharing her mother's excitement, especially when they have something to finally bond over, but Vivian isn't through-the-moon whenever Violet talks about the quickening she feels so she can't bring herself to be happy at the prospect of brothers.
Ironically, the only person who seems excited, besides Tate, is Constance. Violet can't figure the older woman out: sometimes she acts like she has rabies, the next she's doting and filled with wisdom to give Violet. This time when she goes over after the outing with her mom, she finds Billie Dean is there, too, sitting at the table with her hands folded out in front of her. She hasn't seen the blonde psychic since she ran out of her room like a bat out of hell. She eyes Constance warily, who nods in encouragement. "You look…big, Violet." Billie says bluntly.
Her fingers itch to give Billie the bird, but Violet stops and sits, one hand stroking her belly absentmindedly, while the other holds the swollen stomach protectively. "What? You're not going to run out of here like you've seen Brittney Spears' snatch again?"
"You wanted answers, Violet, correct?" Violet nods, so Billie begins. "The child you're carrying is a special one, regardless of circumstance. Constance and I have spoken to various Shamans and Healers, and we believe you're carrying a little girl. Which is good, because the other option, the not-so-nice option that Constance didn't want me to tell you about, is completely void: congrats." Billie's smirk makes Violet want to hurl towards her, or let whatever-the-fuck lives in the basement attack her like it did Leah. "And you know that I'm having a girl because some of your magic, pot-smoking buddies told you this?" Violet asks, raising a defiant brow. "Bullshit."
Its Constance's turn to speak: "Darling, after all you've been through, this child to be more certain, a couple of people predicting the outcome of future events aren't so hard to believe. Christ, you got pregnant by my dead son: how you're still a skeptic has gone beyond naïve to absolutely foolish." She puffs out some smoke, before inhaling another. Rinse, repeat, and it makes her miss the familiar nicotine flavor that she's had to give up.
"There's more." Warns Billie, and Constance makes an annoyed groan but sits and listens all the same. "There are forces inside that house—dark and evil forces—that want to prevent her birth. 'For when she becomes of age, the Antichrist will ascend, and the final battle will commence. If she's written off sooner rather than later, evil won't have a problem winning. Do you understand what I'm saying, Violet?"
"Yeah, you're insane, and I'm leaving."
With that, Violet's out the door.
"You're going to have to tell her about the other one," Billie warns Constance before pulling out her own cigarette. "The secret will be revealed sooner or later. If you don't, the house will."
Constance says nothing.
"Let's talk about your pilot, dear, you know how I want to hear all about it."