~A little girl sitting on a rock in the middle of a forrest. Torn, bloodstained clothes, her hair a complete mess, she sat there, face pressed into her hands, a small doll squeezed against her, sobbing. She must have run away. But it wasn’t the first time.~
Violet woke up with a start. But she didn’t wait long. Grabbing whatever she could find, ignoring the confused stares of Rose she ran. Ran outside, through the doors, down the stairs, strait outside. Ran past all the other ones, past the garden, straight into the forrest. Something triggered Vi, she knew her, knew that girl from somewhere, deep in her memory.
~Powerless, helpless, surrounded by darkness. Running. She didn’t even know what from anymore. Last time, all the last times, it was clear. She just couldn’t bear it anymore. The hell of life, the pain, those “saints” telling her what was right and wrong. Liars! Lies everywhere! Lies! Lies! Lies! Lies! Lies! But not this time. There were no voices, no faces yelling at her, no hypocrisy she had to shout, scream, shake away. There were just eyes.~
She saw the girl, a constant image out of her dream, imprinted onto the very back of her head. A small pit, surrounded by trees. A dark, misty morning. She knew where it was, all too well.
~Battles, from the very beginning. Battles against the world. She fought, oh how she fought. But it drained her. No matter what she did it sucked out every single drop of energy out of her. The first time was just anywhere. It didn’t matter, all she wanted was to get away. But they found her. Sucked her back into their world of deception and distortion. The second time was into a river. No deviation, no distraction, just straight in. But once again they dragged her out, forced her into their webs. The third time was different. Something drew her there. Made her run differently, towards something, not away. Into the forrest, into the wild. Until she saw a wooden house, right in the middle of a small clearing, covered in moss.~
She ran. Tears streaming down her eyes. Branches piercing open her legs, her arms, her face. Blood streaming down everywhere, turning her into a mosaic of skin and trickles. But she didn’t notice, didn’t care. All she wanted was to be there, be with her.
~A crackle of blue flashes, her fingertips tingling from the energy. She raised them, looked at them, saw them flickering around her fingers and pointed them away in shock. But all that did was send lightning bolts into the sky. Strong, intense lightning. Then a vision. Eyes staring blissfully at her. A magnificent table lined with all she desired. Dresses, chandeliers, runes, magic! And this feeling, a feeling of power, of intense, unchallenged power. This was no mere vision. She felt it. Like a memory from the future. Like a certainty. That was the fourth time she ran.~
A small pit, just at the edge of her vision. Despite the mist she could make it out. A small rock. And on it a little girl. Transparent, ghostly, as if unreal, just an image, a trick of her mind. But it was real alright, she remembered. Out of breath she cried out, screamed, but no sound escaped her. So she ran until she reached it, panting, finally collapsing against a tree, trying to find her breath back.
~Ran, just ran. Through thickets of roses, through branches, stones and all those things nature threw at her. Away from this feeling, away from this image. This was too much. Oh yes, she’d dreamed of things like these. But those were dreams, banished into the unreal, into fantasies, nothing more. That vision, that experience, it was overpowering. So she ran away. Not from the world, not from the pain. But from herself. Collapsing when her strength finally left her, lying on the ground, not moving, until she couldn’t even run away in her very own mind. Until tears mercilessly pressed their way outside. Until she curled up, took out her one possession, her one companion through everything. She sat up, climbed onto the rock and pressed it against it.~
Panting, still almost breathless she tried again. “Vi!” She screamed, and this time it was audible.
~Vi? She lifted her head in surprise. No, that couldn’t be, no one knew that much about her! Panicking she pressed the rag doll against her, looked around, no one there. It must have been an illusion. But wait, those only came …~
“Vi! I know you can hear me. Listen!”
~Listen? To whom? Where? She stood up, dropping her doll, looking around. Where did it come from? Vi? Why call for her, call just that name?~
“I know you can hear me, I remember! Listen. This is you. This is who you are meant to be! Listen to your heart.”
~Listen to your heart.~
“I know it feels strange. How can you, hunted and fleeing, possess all this? But it is true. Those dreams.”
~Those dreams, unusual, always a pattern, recurring, emotional, powerful, the only place she used to like …~
“They weren’t just a wish. They were a calling! This is you! This is where you belong. Violet! Embrace who you are! I know you can!”
~Violet. A name from her dreams. ‘Miss Violet’ she was always called. She liked it. And so she called herself just that, whenever the feeling of ugly shame, pure hatred flooded through her very body. It soothed her.~
“Violet!”
~She heard the scream. And something clicked. Slowly, carefully, as if to not let that new tingling she walked away, turning back, going just where she came from. No more running.~
Vi watched her, changing as she went. The blood, the crusts, the torn clothes were still there. But the little thing transformed, made itself into an imposing, powerful figure, passing her by without noticing her. But how should she have. Vi went into the clearing, searching the ground where the little girl just sat. And there it was. Covered under a pile of leaves, dirty from all the neglect. A spitting image of the woman that just passed her. A spitting image of herself. She pressed it against her, tears slowly creeping along her cheeks. “You’ve come so far little girl.”
Rose stood outside, not daring to leave the grounds it was bound to but still searching, looking out. Finally she came. “Miss Violet!” But she just walked towards her, pressed a rag-doll into her hands and spoke. “It is to take care of this one. It is a prized possession. Wash it, clean it, find a place worthy of it and where I will find it if I desire. Then it is to wash itself, put on nothing but some stockings and undergarments and return to my room.” Violet paused. Memories of her first days. Rose was the first one that came. She had struggled back then. But not anymore. “It is to get my knife, the sharp, short one, as well as my claws and my spell book. I don’t want to simply use it like any other day. This time I want to be reminded exactly how far its devotion goes, how deep my power and hold over it is.”