Note: I hate that Violet has to be bullied, but it'll make sense later. I also hate that these types of things actually happen. It breaks my heart to know there are people who do stuff like this. Anyway, Violet is a bit of a sap when it comes to Tate, even when she doesn't know him well. She feels a connection to him and he brings out the "girl" in her. Uh.. enjoy! :D
After a long day of faking laughter and smiles to please her dad, Violet was ready to be alone with her computer and just be herself. Not to say that her normal self wasn't happy, but it wasn't the caliber she had been using all day. She hated Hayden with a fiery passion, but she didn't feel like being lectured by Ben to respect her stepmom.
She turned her computer on and signed into her blog; she checked to see if anyone decided to hate on her again after her little explosion the evening prior. No new messages, but she did have an alert: tatecobainsflight is now following you. To give everyone the benefit of the doubt, she would check out their pages before deciding if they were a waste of a follow or not.
After clicking on the name, she was instantly transported to… nothing. Just a page that was mocking her: We're sorry. She rolled her eyes at the evil blue page, it was laughing at her; she just knew it. "You stupid mother fucker," she grumbled under her breath. She clicked the refresh button multiple times in a row, each time her finger clicked the button a little harder than the previous. She was a teenage girl, didn't they know she needed her blog?
Finally, after an hour of fighting and giving up—only to try again two minutes later—it began working again. She sighed in relief and clicked his name again, this time pulling up his page with no frustration on her end. Her page went instantly black and "In Bloom" by Nirvana began playing from her speakers. A smile—a real genuine smile—found its way to her lips; finally, someone on there with good music taste.
Her eyes scrolled down with her mouse; pictures of Kurt Cobain and other dark, moody type pictures made up his blog. She came to a picture of a young guy who looked like he was trying to harness his inner Kurt Cobain with his dirty blond locks falling into his eyes, but just enough to add a bit of mystique to his allure. She stared at his near onyx colored eyes, which stood out really prevalent next to his pale white skin. He was wearing a multicolored striped shirt and had a pissed off look on his face.
Underneath his picture he wrote a little about himself:
I prepare for the noble war. I'm calm, I know the secret; and I know nobody can stop me, including myself. This world is so filled with shit, and piss, and vomit that it makes me mad—not just in the emotional way, but in the mental state, also. I want to go somewhere clean and kind. There's so much pain, so much. I like what Indians do in monthly rituals; they believed that blood held the evil in, so they would cut themselves to be rid of it. I like that idea; there's something smart about it, very smart. I don't torture myself with current "music" as I've heard it called; I love Kurt Cobain and pretty much anything angry. Here is where I would put my name, age, and something about my family, right? My name does not matter; my age is also irrelevant; I have a shitty mother who is a literal cock sucker and a father who abandoned me when I was six. That's what the normal people write on here, am I right? Well, normal people scare me.
With each word she read, she felt so much anger and hostility coming from him; she was excited, but slightly unnerved, also. She felt a strange connection to him, like for the first time in seventeen years, someone understood her. She quickly scrolled back up to the top of his page and clicked the 'follow' button. She didn't know what to do after that; if to start a conversation, or let him do it. She decided to take pointers from her blog name; this is bullshit and shut down her computer. She had school the next day and didn't feel like spilling her guts to the internet about her life right then. She was too fascinated with Tate and what he was like, even though she hated acting like a "girl" and spending her last waking moments thinking about a guy. How silly was she?
The next day she checked her blog from her phone in between classes, hoping for that little red one over the envelope. She was slightly disappointed every time she checked it and had nothing from him; she sighed at her behavior, what was he going to do? Read her mind clear across the country and know she wanted him to send something to her? She was being ridiculous and annoying herself.
When she got home she checked one more time before bed; her eyes widened when she saw the little number she had been so incredibly and desperately waiting for. She clicked it and read the words from the gray face that taunted her:
Did I scare you off, bitch? Did I win? Are you being laid down in a coffin as I type this because I got to you? Did you push down just a little too hard after my words cut you down? Did I hurt little miss tough girl? You're such a joke and a fucking ugly bitch.
Violet growled at the evil words; it was her blog, to do with it how she pleased. If someone didn't like it, why didn't they just leave her alone instead of sending such evil messages?
No, I'm still here. Alive and well, thanks for your concern. I may take out my hate on the world and the life I have on my arms, but at least I'm not a fucking coward who hides behind a gray faced mask. If you have such hateful things to say about me, then why don't you have the audacity to tell me who you are? Why do you feel the need to hide when I'm the one being attacked? And I may be ugly, but I can change how I look… You'll always be ugly because you're consumed by the darkness.
She pushed the 'publish' button and slammed her computer shut, and tossed it to the side. She stared up at the ceiling and felt the tears start to appear; all her life, her dad called her his fierce little girl. Her mom admired her bravery and lack of a give a damn for most things in life. Why was this getting to her? Why were the words of an ignorant fuck slicing her down the middle? Why wasn't she tough like she led everyone to believe? She rolled over on her side, a single tear rolled down her cheek and across her nose, falling on her pillow. She laid her arm over her head and tried to tune out life as she fell asleep.
Hayden peeked in the doorway, a proud grin plastered across her face as she patted her laptop that her arm was hugging. "Not such a brave girl now, are we?" she whispered as she shut Violet's bedroom door.