Dance with a Devil

Violet watched quietly, as John stared at the food in front of him, contemplating on what to do. She promised him that she wouldn't say anything, but it was hard not to when it was quite obvious what the next step was.

She looked at him closely--why did he look so tired? John's once happy, full bright green eyes were sunken and hollow. He looked like he was wrinkles on his face when no twenty-three year old man should have wrinkles. John looked dead.

"John, are you okay?" Violet asked, her voice barely a whisper.

John said nothing. He took the dough in his hands and started to knead it. She sighed and opened her book (The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins), putting her glasses back on, and she started to read.

A phone ringing made Violet jump, and she looked around. It wasn't hers so she looked over at John, who was staring at the screen of his iPhone.

He walked out the kitchen and took the call. Violet stared after him, really wishing that she had a superpower that would enable her to eavesdrop but she shook her head--she shouldn't eavesdrop.

Muffled shouting in the other room made Violet snap her head up again. What was going on?

She hopped down from the countertop and walked over to John's room at the end of the hall. As she neared, the shouting got louder and Violet suddenly got a little bit more frightened. The last time she accidentally eavesdropped on one of John's shouting matches with a caller, he hurt her.

"I'm not allowed to attend? Are you fucking kidding me? She's my cousin!" John shouted.

"What--no, don't hang up on me. This isn't over, Josh! I have the same fucking rights as anyone else to go to the fucking funeral..."

Violet perked up. A funeral? Who's funeral?

John was silent. It seemed as though whoever was on the other line had said something to silence him because it was deafening. Violet stepped away from the door and she reached out and knocked, very lightly and very slowly.

John opened it a second later, his phone in his hands. He looked furious, to say the least. Flashbacks of the last time appeared in her mind and she flinched away just as he stepped forward.

"Oh, please don't kill me," Violet closed her eyes. She felt John brush past her and she opened her eyes again. He barely even touched her.

"John..." She called, following him into the kitchen.

"I don't know what you heard but either way, you wouldn't understand," John said, trying to keep himself from screaming again.

"John, you can't keep hiding things forever," she said. "Please, talk to me."

He jerked away when Violet tried to touch him. She sighed and she said, "Whatever you're going through with your family, you can fix it. I don't know what happened--you probably won't even tell me for like a hundred years, but I'm sure it's fixable."

John scoffed. He set the knife down that he was using to (slowly) chop up the onions, and he said, "What the hell do you know about fucked up families, huh? All the stories I've heard about the Casey family make you look like the fucking Brady bunch. And no," he added. "It's not fixable."

Violet crossed her arms, feeling her defensive side taking over and she said, "My family isn't the Brady bunch! If we were, I wouldn't be in Arizona! My parents are tyrants. They would have me locked up in a cellar if they could because I decided that I didn't want to be like them--New York-born, doctor, rich, blah blah blah." Violet glared. "They have said to my face that they wish I was like my sister--the most perfect person in this fucking world. Do not tell me that my family is perfect when we are far from it. And yes," she countered. "I can assure you, it is fixable. Usually, with an apology, but knowing you, that won't happen for like an eternity."

"You don't know me," John snapped.

"I know you pretty fucking well, John," Violet said. "And I know your parents, too. Not that well, but I have been told they're pretty cool."

John clenched his jaw shut. He took the knife again and was practically throwing it at the cutting board, causing the onions to be chopped up rather oddly.

"John," Violet said, more calmly. "I just want to help you. Screw The Maine and everything else for right now. You are destroying yourself with excessive amounts of alcohol and keeping all of this inside."

"I'd rather not talk about this anymore," John said. "Who gave you that necklace?" His eyes glanced at the golden lion head necklace around her neck. Violet, stunned, looked down and she said, "I--you?"

John smirked.

"Yeah, you did," Violet said, furrowing her eyebrows. "Last Christmas. Wow, how did I forget you actually had somewhat of a heart?"

John rolled his eyes. "Actually, your boyfriend helped me pick it out. He said that I needed to be nicer to you so he made me buy a gift for you."

"Thank you for destroying that tiny glimmer of hope I had for you."

John smirked again and his phone rang again. Violet silenced herself and she watched John. It was as though it was in slow motion--it started with his smile, that completely vanished, and then it traveled up to his eyes, which turned into anger.

Violet stepped forward and she touched his arm.

"Not everything is settled in a shouting match," she reminded him. John's nostrils flared but he pressed ignore and threw his phone into the drawer.

A better option.

The rest of the day was spent with John making food and Violet reading. They let it all go even though it was eating Violet up. She was so close to finding out what was wrong. A funeral? Did someone in John's family die? It was really killing her to find out.

At the end of the night, John made pizza. It was hard and hurt Violet's teeth, but it was pretty good for a beginner like him. Violet was rather proud of his achievements. They celebrated with How I Met Your Mother and beer (for John).

His phone kept ringing and vibrating. Someone was clearly trying to talk to him, and when Violet looked at him, opening her mouth to speak after the eighth time, John lifted his hand up to stop her and said, "Don't."

So she didn't.

At eight o'clock, Violet realized how late it was and she decided to go. She turned to John, who didn't even bother to see her out (as if he ever did) and she said, "Bye, John."

He gave a two finger salute but didn't look at her. He only sipped his beer and watched the screen. She sighed and left, driving home to Garrett, who was probably waiting to hear an update.

Except she didn't know if she should tell him about the phone call. It was rather personal stuff and John really looked distressed about it...

Violet arrived home and and she jingled her keys in her hands. She was ready to cuddle in bed with Garrett and probably watch a movie or something. Enough with the drama and all that jazz.

Just as she was about to open the door, Violet sudden heard shrilly, female laughter coming from inside. She raised her eyebrows–was Cecilia there, too? Violet peered through the window and found Garrett sitting in the living room but the female was most definitely not Cecilia. She had short dark brown/red hair and she looked really small.

"God, Garrett, I miss this," she said. "I miss us."

Violet's stomach dropped. It was Rachael.

"Yeah, I miss you, too." Garrett admitted.

"We should get coffee sometime and catch up or something. I'm sorry I can only stay for so long," Rachael stood up. "I'm sure Violet wouldn't like that I'm here."

Violet was gone. She hopped into her car, angry, and drove in the direction she didn't even think about.

She just drove.

She was angry, sad, jealous, and so many things. Even tears started to prick her eyes–would Garrett ever cheat on her? He had his ex-girlfriend over specifically at a time that she wasn't there.

Violet practically stormed up the path when she arrived at her destination and she rang the doorbell. The door opened and John stood, confused.

"Violet?"

Violet sighed, harshly wiping the tears away, and she looked up at him, completely hopeless.

"Can I stay with you?"