Page 1 of Twisted Violet (Lovesick Villains #4)

VIOLET

I was nine when I realized there was something wrong with me.

Intense. I know. But growing up in the house I did meant learning things way earlier than any child should.

I don’t remember a lot about that day, but I do remember it being early, because the dense fog that normally blanketed the city had yet to lift, and the world outside was still coated in a soft milky haze.

After waiting by my bedroom window for what felt like hours, my mother’s gold sedan had finally appeared in our driveway, and I knew I only had a few precious moments to catch her before she inevitably slipped out again.

Normally, I paid little attention to my mother’s comings and goings. She wasn’t home very often, and when she was, my older sister, Stevie, and I were usually the last things on her mind.

But that day, I needed her. My class had a field trip to the planetarium, and my teacher, Mrs. Miller, made it clear that I couldn’t go without a parent’s signature. My father was just as unreliable as my mother, so staying up and waiting for one of them to show was my only real option.

I should’ve known there was something off with my mother the moment I came downstairs and saw her sitting at the kitchen table. Her face was tight, and she had a glazed-over look in her eyes that raised the fine hairs on the back of my neck.

I didn’t know she was an addict back then. All I knew was she seemed out of it a lot and wasn’t always the best at noticing me. But she was my mom, and I needed her, so I ignored the uneasy feeling in my gut and carefully stepped towards her.

“Mom, could you sign this?” I asked gently, setting the permission slip and pen down on the table in front of her.

She didn’t respond and continued to glare at her freshly poured bowl of cereal.

“Mom?” I tried again, holding my breath as I moved in closer to tap her on the shoulder.

I hated the way she smelled. Like a pungent mixture of sugar and burnt plastic. She didn’t always smell like that, but over time it became the only scent I associated with her.

I tapped her again.

“Mom?”

“Leave me the hell alone.” She hissed, turning her head to pin me with a vicious glare. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“Y- yes…” I stammered, breaking eye contact and staring down at her hands, “but I- I waited up for you. I have a field trip today.”

She flexed her fingers, and the sores on them started to bleed. There were more of them now. Way more than the last time I saw her. Stevie always told me it was rude to stare, but I couldn’t pull my eyes away from them. They looked so painful.

“Of course you need something.” She glowered, shoveling a heaping spoonful of O’s into her mouth. “Why else would you come looking for Mommy Dearest? It’s not like you actually give a fuck about me.”

I looked up at her with wide eyes and shook my head. “That’s not true-”

“Bullshit.” She snapped, cutting me off as little bits of cereal and milk flew from her mouth.

“All you and your sister do is take. Take. Take. Take. Like greedy little vultures. Well, I’ve news for you, sweetheart.

Sometimes, life doesn’t go your way. Sometimes, you don’t get what you want.

And tonight is one of those nights. Now kindly fuck off and let me eat in peace. ”

I should’ve left. I should’ve gone back up to my room and not pushed any further. But I needed her. I needed her to see me, to care, to love me in a way that only a mother could.

“Mom, please... just sign it. I promise I won’t ask you for anything else.”

She narrowed her eyes and glared at me like I was a filthy wad of bubblegum stuck to her shoe. “Did you not hear what the fuck I said?” She snapped, ripping her cereal bowl off the table and chucking it towards the wall behind me at full force.

Soggy cereal and jagged pieces of her bowl went flying everywhere. Splattering me with sticky sweet milk and scratching the back of my arms and legs with little fragments of cheap ceramic.

“God,” she muttered, running a hand through her dark tangled hair, “haven’t you realized no one wants to deal with you? Not me. Not your father. Not even your fucking sister! She’s just too much of a coward to tell you.”

“Th- that’s not true.” I whispered, my voice breaking as tears welled in my eyes. “Stevie loves me. She’s the one who takes care of me.”

“That’s because she feels sorry for you.” She laughed. “Don’t be stupid, Alexandra. Pity isn’t love. People will feel sorry for someone weak and pathetic like you. But they’ll never love them.”

I stood there, my feet frozen in place, as her bitter words sliced me in two.

Was she right?

Did Stevie really feel sorry for me?

I mean, we were half-sisters, but apart from that, she and I didn’t really have much in common. She was strong, and she never really let anything affect her. I was weak and would cry over the smallest things.

How could someone like her ever really love someone like me?

I stared at my mother. Really stared at her, and for the first time in my life, I realized I hated her. I hated that she was never good to me. I hated that she cared more about herself than she ever did about me. But more than anything, I hated that deep down I knew she was right.

Pity isn’t love. It may sometimes feel like love. It may have all the markings of love. But it isn’t the same, and it never will be.

I walked out of the kitchen without another word. I could feel the hot tears coming, and I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing she had made me cry.

“Oh, and Alexandra?” She added, catching me just before I walked up the stairs. “Take this with you.” She said, crumpling the permission slip and throwing it at me. “You aren’t going anywhere, and in the morning, your ass better clean this shit up.”

I raced up the stairs without looking back. I hated that I was being a coward, but once I was sure I was out of earshot, the tears just wouldn’t stop, no matter how hard I tried. What she did hurt me, but what she said hurt even worse.

It’s been years since she spewed those venomous words, and though she’s long-since passed away, everything she said to me that night still weighs heavy on my heart.

I wish I could say I grew up and ended up proving her wrong. That after graduating high school, I went out into the world, stood strong on my own, and made something of myself. But in the end, I became exactly who she knew I would be. Weak. Needy. And tragically unlovable.