enter violet

she stood there. mainly, she let her eyes dart back and forth through the hall. it was as if she wasn't even aware of her existence. always staring. no one knew her, nor did she truly know herself. a nervous creature, she feared intimacy and confrontation. she was, in a way, all of us. she is the hidden, the lost. the room was empty. footsteps slowly made their silent way through the door. they seemed to wish, those procrastinating feet, to be able to go back, to turn. not so. enter violet.



"i’m fine, i’m fine" she repeated yet again. now if only she could convince the others. she was afraid of their harsh stares, and the way they'd glance away, only waiting for her to stop staring so they could look back to get the full picture. "its quite a harsh reality," she thought, "that these people will die."



not just then, of course. that is later, all things come. she was used to these morbid thoughts about life and death. just a few months earlier she had buried her cat clement, and since that time had contemplated life's mysteries, the bright spots and the dull. she had accepted the fact that she would follow her feline into that other world eventually, and she thought it only sensible for others to realize this as well, although she certainly didn’t expect them to be happy about it. back to the people in the room, though. she would not kill them, nor would she in any way be the cause of their death, if those two situations are any different from one another. 



we really should take a stroll back to when violet was happy, for she was not always this confused waif who stood before the panel. she had quite the normal childhood, or as normal as one can be apart from children one's own age. many around town blamed her mother for the girl's oddities, but those who knew mrs. simms were familiar with her sunny outlook, and knew that such a creature as violet couldn't have come from that. no, the root of the problem probably stems from a heightened sensitivity or intelligence. sure, violet thought it nice to be smart, but she'd much rather be understood by those around her. it seemed everyone was afraid of her in some way, although physically she was nothing by which to be intimidated. she was a tall girl, this is true, but her willowy frame made her look anything but daunting. she possessed an air of uncertainty which made those around her anxious, always waiting for her to sound at any moment, just as a faulty alarm clock when you least expect it.



her eyes were trickier to describe, but then again, aren't everyone's? no, hers were not beautiful by any measure, but they were indeed very unique. her gaze was a mixture of passion and passivity, of love and indifference. they say your eyes are the windows to your soul…this was especially true in violet’s case.



it was perhaps a year ago when she began to make the realization that she could never be truly happy. she knew she would have to fake it, choosing to be her real self only when alone, listening to music in her room, or reading one of the books in her collection. she was very well-read for her age, but she feared sounding pretentious if ever she spoke that word aloud, so it was a fact she preferred to keep to herself. outside of her home she was rarely seen showing any emotion resembling joy, yet she was perfectly happy with herself until fall of that year, when her cat died. one would, she assumed, call it a turning point in her life.



the end of clement was the start of her disillusionment.



violet simms was born, as i said, a happy child. growing up, she was told she could be whatever she wanted in life, which was probably true. what she wasn't told is that people are cruel, and in some part of each person there is a bitterness which destroys...destroys faith, and hope, and yes, even love. actually, perhaps most of all love. violet was a very perceptive girl. she could see this cold part of all of us. that is why we shunned her, pushed her from the group. because she was too... everything.