Page 2 of Twisted Violet
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 Iwas 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.
ONE
VIOLET
I can’t sleep.
It’s not that I’m not tired.
Iam.
Exhausted actually.
My body aches in places I didn’t even know existed, but my mind won’t stop racing.
I’ve spent the last three days running on fumes, sitting at my sister’s bedside, watching her fight for her life.
Between the constant beeps of machinery, the sterile smell of the hospital, and the muffled voices in the hall, it was nearly impossible to sleep. But the main thing that kept me awake was fear. Fear that I might wake up to a world where she’s gone.
Now I’m back at the safe house. Lying in a bed that’s too soft, in a room that’s too quiet, and all I can think about is how it feels like she’s already gone.
I roll over and stare at the ceiling.
I didn’t want to leave the hospital.
Dallas, Niko, and Rome spoke with Stevie’s guys, and the decision was made for me. I told them I wanted to stay, but they insisted.
They said I needed rest, that I could come back as soon as I got some sleep, but I know what they really meant.
They didn’t think I could handle it anymore.
They saw how fragile I was, how close I was to breaking, and decided to get me out of there.
The shitty thing is, I can’t even be mad at them, they’reright.
I’m not strong enough to handle this.
I never have been.
