Dance with a Devil

Violet didn't realize this for a long time, but she was at John's house a lot in the time that Garrett was in Florida.

Maybe it was because she was so lonely at home? Garrett called as often as he could, but it still got lonely without his actual being in the same room as her. Maybe it was because she needed something to do? Other than her homework, she didn't have Garrett to spend the rest of her time with. Or maybe it was because John's company wasn't so awful anymore?

John noticed it before she did. He kept giving her strange looks as though he was confused as to why she preferred his company. He found it very strange that Violet Casey actually tolerated him for once.

On first Sunday of Garrett's absence, Violet sat in front of the unfinished mural on John's foyer wall with her hair tied up into a messy bun, ugly clothes over her nice ones, and a paintbrush and a paint can beside her.

Inspiration was coming to her slowly.

She wanted to paint a city. Cities were always alive and booming–that was John. John was always the person to be at a party, wrecking havoc, or doing something because he didn't care the consequences–he lived life to the fullest.

Well, he used to, at least.

Violet felt a hand brush against her shoulder and she turned her head to see John holding out a beer can. She looked up at him, unamused, and he shrugged his shoulders and opened it for himself.

"How can you drink that at ten in the morning?" Violet asked.

"Why are you here at ten in the morning?" John asked.

Violet let out a groan and she stood up. She put her hands on her waist and blew her bangs out of her face.

"If you don't want me here, just say the word."

John rolled his eyes and he turned away, drinking out of the beer can. Violet sighed and she turned back to her city–the inspiration gone. She sighed again and packed everything up and set it in a corner for her to take before she left. She went into the kitchen and opened up the fridge.

"Uh, John?" Violet called out, staring into the fridge.

"What?" His voice rang from the living room.

"Where on earth is all your food?"

John came into the kitchen, still holding his beer. He raised an eyebrow at her and said, "You made dinner the past two days."

"So, you didn't feel the need to go buy some more?" Violet asked, staring at him, dumbfounded.

John didn't say anything. Violet closed the fridge and she said, "Wanna go with me to the grocery store then?"

"No."

"Why not?"

The look on John's face was enough to tell her to drop the subject. Violet sighed and she gave him a look that went ignored. When was he ever going to leave his house?

"Do you ever leave your house?" Violet questioned.

John rolled his eyes but he walked away without a word. Violet let out a loud groan so he would hear but he gave no reply. He was a stone statue. The only time that he ever showed a glimmer of the old, fun him, was when the whole Zeus the Penis subject came up.

She didn't really want to bring that up again...

Violet couldn't understand why John refused to even leave the house? He must at least do it sometime–it was incredibly unhealthy to stay inside forever. He could develop agoraphobia and that was a hard thing to cure.

"Baby steps," she said to herself, out of John's hearing range. "Baby steps..."

Violet left John's house and went to the nearby grocery store to pick up some food. She was grumbling to herself as she entered Basha's and started to pick up food that would serve well for a good amount of time.

She blew out a breath when she reached the soup section and shrugged her shoulders–winter was coming, why not stock up on some soup?

Just as she picked up some Campbell's chicken noodle soup, her arm bumped into someone's, who was also picking up some soup.

"Oh, I'm sorry," the woman said, kindly.

"You're fi–" Violet started, but she cut herself off, recognizing who it was.

"Mrs. O'Callaghan?" Violet asked, shocked. It was John's mother.

Mrs. O'Callaghan tilted her head as she tried to remember her, but it seemed that she couldn't place her finger on her.

Violet recovered and she chuckled, feeling foolish. "I'm sorry. We've only met like twice, but I'm Violet, Garrett's girlfriend."

Something clicked in Mrs. O'Callaghan's mind and she went, "Oh! Yes, I do remember you! You're the sweet girl who made those brownie's that Garrett claimed to have made himself on New Year's! I know that boy cannot bake for his life, someone else must have made them."

Violet beamed. "Yeah! Except I didn't know that Garrett tried to pass them off as his...I'm going to have a talk with him about that..."

Mrs. O'Callaghan chuckled. "I'm so sorry I didn't recognize you, dear. Garrett's mother gushes about you all the time."

Violet blushed. "Oh gosh..."

"I know that they're vacationing right now–in Florida, is it? What have you been doing to keep yourself from being lonely since Garrett is gone?"

Violet shrugged. "I'm in school for like seven hours a day except on Friday's and the weekend. And during those days, I'm actually at John's." She smiled at her, hoping for them to make a connection somehow.

But that didn't happen.

The polite smile on Mrs. O'Callaghan's face flickered and almost vanished when Violet mentioned her son. It was as though the name was taboo or something because the aura suddenly changed around them and Violet was entering dangerous waters.

"John?" She repeated. "What are you doing with John?"

"I've just been helping him out around the house because God knows he needs it," replied Violet.

"Oh," Mrs. O'Callaghan only said.

"Y–yeah," Violet furrowed her eyebrows. "He's kind of in a dark place right now and he needs all the help that he can get..." She watched her face, intently, hoping to find something that would give her a hint of anything.

Mrs. O'Callaghan recovered rather quickly and she patted Violet's shoulder. "Good luck with that then, Violet. It was good seeing you."

She was gone before it really sunk in in Violet. She stared after the older woman as she hurriedly strode over to the cash register and practically dashed out of the grocery story, avoiding Violet.

What just happened?

Violet paid for the food in her basket and started to drive back to John's house. Her mind was everywhere at that moment–even John's own mother refused to even speak about him.

What could he have possibly done that made his mother act that way in the slightest mention of his name?

Violet's mind flashed towards the forbidden room in John's house and she let out a strangled groan. What was in the damn room?! Whatever it was, it had to do with why John's entire family hated him and why he became a recluse with too much alcohol.

Violet climbed out of the car in front of John's house with the grocery bags in her hands. She walked in and stopped immediately when she found John standing in front of the unfinished mural, just staring at it.

"Uh, John?" Violet asked, her voice low and quiet.

He glanced at her and for a split second, their eyes locked. It seemed as if in just that second, everything was changing. From what she was slowly uncovering about it and to just him letting her in–Violet noticed the difference in him.

John looked tired. Physically, mentally, and emotionally tired. Like he was slowly giving up because whatever happened, he was just tired of it haunting him.

For the first time in her life, Violet actually felt bad for John.