The Certainty of Violet & Luke(16)

Oh my God, I’m going to die.

I’ve never had that thought before. Never truly thought I was going to die through all the things I’ve done. I’ve pushed myself to the edge, but I always knew the point where I’d cross the No Going Back Line and never crossed it.

But now I’ve crossed it.

And I’m going to f*cking die right now.

I want to cry because I’m not ready for this, not ready to go. I try to open my mouth to yell for help, remembering that there were people just up the shore, but every time I open my mouth, I swallow huge gulps of water that I choke on. So instead I fight for my life. I fight like a Goddamn person who wants to live more than anything else in the word. I’m surprised how much I fight. How much I want to make it back to the shore. How much I want my life. How much I see the things I want … see the people I want. I swear in the midst of it I hear my father’s voice, telling me to be strong. I swear I see him too, swimming toward me, to help me get back to the shore. It’s just an illusion, though, the person’s face shifting into someone else as they get closer.

But it’s someone.

Someone who maybe can save me. Because God, I want to be saved.

There are people yelling in the distance and I can see the person getting closer. I reach for them and they reach for me, our fingers so close as water swishes over my head and rocks slam at my body. But suddenly a wave rips over me and just like that, they get ripped away, like the water rips me away.





Chapter 7


Luke


I manage to keep myself together as I drive toward the apartment, hoping she’ll be there, crossing my fingers that out of all the bad things that could be going on, it’s actually something that’s okay.

Please, just let her be okay.

I’m halfway there when I get a text. Taking my phone out of my pocket, I see it’s from Greyson.

Greyson: Hey, I have something of yours.

Me: Huh???

Greyson: A girl with black and red hair, a pierced nose, tattoos, a smartass personality. Goes by the name of Violet.

Relief washes over me. She’s with Greyson. Thank God.

Me: Glad she’s with you. I’ve been trying to get a hold of her.

Greyson: Yeah, she’s been busy. With what I have no clue, but she showed up here in wet clothes, with a swollen eye, a cut on her wrist, and drunk beyond comprehension … It’s really bad, Luke. I’m not going to lie. Something must have set her off today. Not sure what though since I can’t get her to talk about it.

A ripple of guilt sweeps through my body, so powerful I have to pull over the truck and collect myself before driving down the road to avoid getting into an accident.

Me: Where are u guys exactly?

Greyson: At the diner. Thankfully the bars pretty empty so I can keep an eye on her, but it’s going to pick up around three or so. Can u pick her up? I’d take her home myself but we’re understaffed as it is.

Me: On my way now.

I drive like a bat out of hell down the streets of Laramie, breaking too many traffic laws to count. But I’m flipping worried, not just about Violet being drunk, but because she showed up at the diner with wet clothes and bruises. I know enough about Violet to understand that she could have done this to herself. I thought she’d been taking it easy on the adrenaline seeking, but now I’m not so sure.

It takes me half the usual time to get to the diner and by the time I get there, I’m all jacked up on my own adrenaline, my mind racing with a ton of ideas of what Violet was doing while I was at class. I never should have left her home alone. I should have stayed with her.

I hop out of the truck and hurry to the back door of the diner. It’s cloudy, the sky grey, the wind chilly, and I swear to God I can hear thunder rumbling in the distance like a goddamn omen. When I open the door and walk inside the diner, the first thing I notice is how quiet it is. It’s unsettling and the feeling only amplifies when the first noise I hear is the muffled sound of cries. I turn the corner and step out into the shelf area that’s tucked between the kitchen and the bar and find Violet huddled in the corner with legs pulled to her chest. Her hair is a tangled mess and there’s dirt on her clothes. Her bloodshot eyes are focused on empty space and tears are streaming down her cheeks. So much sadness pouring out of her yet she looks so empty inside.

‘Jesus Christ.’ I don’t even mean to say it aloud. It sort of slips out, but it’s a little bit of a shock to see her like this. I’ve only seen her cry a couple of times and she hated that even I saw it. Out here in the open where anyone can see her … whatever happened must have been bad.