1
Violet
The living room is dark, lit only by the flickering of a computer screen. I’m hunched over the keyboard, tapping my foot furiously. Why won’t he answer me? Did I do something wrong? It has been two days since his last message, and I am going crazy, wondering why he hasn’t responded. I thought he’d want to meet me. We’ve been talking for six months now, and I feel like we know each other inside and out. It’s taken me this long to build up the courage to see the face on the other side of the screen; I felt ready to take it to the next step. Maybe this has all just been a game to him, string along the lonely woman with no friends and practically no family to speak of.
I haven’t spoken to my mom in about three years, not since I graduated with my Bachelor’s in IT and computing and gotten my first proper job. I saved every penny I made from the shitty little coffee shop job I had while I’d done my studies, and when I’d finally graduated university, I left and didn’t look back. I’d never forgiven her for letting my father get away with doing what he’d done to us. I still couldn’t believe she had taken his side over mine when he was hurting her too. When I was old enough to stay at home by myself, and had thrown enough tantrums, I managed to put a stop to her dragging me to see him in prison every two weeks.
My stomach clenches and growls, and I realize just how long I’ve been staring at this damn chat message box, waiting for nothing. I take a sip of my coffee, which is now cold and grimace, ugh. I sigh miserably and get up, stretching my arms and legs to alleviate the stiffness from sitting in one place for too long. I should get something to eat. I almost turn the computer off, but stop myself. Just in case. I drag myself away and go to my tiny kitchen, luckily it’s just me otherwise this place would be way too small.
I earn a decent salary as an IT technician in a locally run business. It’s not extravagant or high profile by any means, but it pays and it’s what I’m good at. I don’t have much interaction with my colleagues, but I like it better that way. I never was the most social of girls, even as a kid. I was always too scared to bring friends home from school, in case my dad was there and in one of his tempers.
What time is it? I glance at the clock; it's 8:30 PM, so it’s no wonder I'm hungry. I haven't eaten since lunchtime. I throw a frozen dinner in the microwave and watch the tray of food spin. I know it’s not the healthiest option, but at this time of night, and with how my stomach is complaining to me, I can’t bring myself to care. With one minute to go before my microwavable goodness is ready, I hear a bing-bong from the other room. I have to restrain myself from hurling myself back to my computer.
Even if it is him, he can wait. I sure did. When the microwave finally beeps its completion, I sigh with relief. Macaroni cheese, it’s one of my favorites. I grab the tray from the microwave and a fork. Carrying it back to the computer, I sit back down and dig in. I’m pretty sure my obsession with this guy is unhealthier than my dinner. Feeling slightly better about the food, I smile before continuing with my meal.
Ten minutes later, the tray is empty, and my stomach is attempting to do the same. He’s answered me, finally. After two days of waiting and feeling like a total loser for pining over a guy I’ve never actually met, I get three words:
I’d love to.
2
Him
I lean back in my chair, stretching out my long legs underneath the desk. I watch the screen in fascination, just waiting with a small smile curving at the edge of my mouth. Waiting for her, watching her, and wondering what she’ll do next. Will she send yet another message, or will she give up and leave. No, I don’t think she will give up just yet.
I shake my head and smirk to myself. Oh Violet, what have you gotten yourself into, you silly naive girl. You’re exactly what I’ve been looking for, and now I have you right where I want you. Are you ready for me, little flower?
I get up and wander around the darkened house. I don’t bother to turn any lights on, there’s no point. I know every inch of this space, every corner, every nook and cranny. Every, single, one. There will be nowhere for her to run, and nowhere that she could hide where I won’t find her. This place is me, dark, nearly empty and completely alone. No neighbors, not even a stray cat comes this way; everyone stays clear. She can scream as loud, and as long as she wants, and it won’t matter. There’s no one around to hear her; no one to come investigate this desolate and isolated place.
I glance out the window to the garden below, the only part of this place with any life to it. The blooms are constant, swaying in the darkness from the light breeze that caresses them softly. I return to the computer where she no doubt sits waiting for my answer. Do I want to meet her? Fuck yes, but I haven’t told her that, it felt more fun to leave her hanging, leave her wondering. She’s fun to play with. Or, at least she will be soon.
I smirk and tap out my response before hitting send. I feel a grin spread across my face, fully this time, and I speak aloud into the darkness, Oh, little flower, I’m coming for you, and I will pluck you from your haven and drag you into my darkness. I will consume and invade you like a weed in a garden does. I will suck the life and color out of your body and soul, you are MINE, and when I finally have you and take you, you will be begging for more before I’m done.
I hear the chat sound with an incoming message:
&nbs
p; When and where do you want to meet?
I reply with a time, date, and location, not too private, so she won’t hesitate on this meeting, but somewhere out of the way enough that she is in an unfamiliar place. I want her vulnerable, and I want her alone. She has no reason not to trust me. I have been kind, charming, understanding, and patient as she slowly opened up to me. Soon enough, she will find out I am none of these things, I am callous, cold, cruel, and calculating. I take what I want and play with it until I’m bored. She is one in a long line of beautiful flowers, my newest plaything: hand picked and chosen specially.
3
Violet
I spent hours deciding what I should wear to this date tonight. It's been so long since I went out with a guy, or anyone for that matter. I settled on a dark blue chiffon blouse with a cream cami, and paired it with fitted black jeans and pumps. I left my long dark hair down, and the natural waves sweep around my shoulders. Oh God, I hope he likes it. Am I too casual, too formal?
I’m waiting for him in the restaurant he suggested, just on the outskirts of town. I don’t come out this way very often, so I had a little trouble finding the place. If not for the bright blue name and picture on the sign marking this place – The Blue Dragon – I would have probably managed to get completely lost. Navigation is so not my strong suit, but surprisingly, I even managed to get here ten minutes early.
I am seated quickly at a small, private table for two, and I’m so nervous that my legs are shaking under the table. This place is nearly dead, even for a Friday night. I guess that people must be elsewhere, probably at one of those noisy nightclubs I wouldn’t dream of setting foot in. Ten minutes have passed, it’s now 7:05 pm and he’s running late. Its right then I realize that he never told me what he looks like, or even his name. I just know him from the chat room as ShadowZ952, or Z as he signs his replies. He knows my name and has seen a picture of me; the one I stupidly put as my profile picture. His picture was always just a silhouette, probably something he found online.
I put my head in my hands and shake it at myself. I’m such an idiot, why did I trust this? I know only what he has told me, which now I think about, it isn’t much all.
The server approaches after twenty minutes has passed, “Miss, would you like to order?”
I nearly start crying right there in front of him, before I managed to shakily order a small appetizer and a glass of water. I’m starting to feel sick. Half an hour later the appetizer is gone, sitting uncomfortably in my churning stomach, and my glass of water is empty, having gulped it down in an attempt to soothe my stomach. I want to go home.
He didn’t show, and now I look like the biggest fool for having come here, sitting alone for goodness knows how long, all dressed up for him. The server returns moments later, seeing that I am on the verge of a breakdown in the middle of the restaurant.
“Would you like to order anything else, Miss?”
“No, thank you. I’d like to pay now.” I mumble politely back at him.
So, not only have I come here, waited for nearly an hour for him to not bother showing, I am now paying for my own date. What a complete disaster.
After paying, I decide that I need to salvage what little dignity I have left and leave with my head held high, even though I feel lower than dirt, and to be honest, a bit led on. I’m going to go home and drown my sorrows in vodka and ice cream, and then hopefully find the guts to log onto our chat and tell him to go fuck himself.
I sigh, yeah right Vi, like you’d do that even if you were drunk out of your mind. A tear rolls down my cheek as I walk down the now darkened street, towards the parking meter where I left my crappy little car. I hear footsteps behind me but don’t look up. I keep my head down and carry on walking. I might as well be invisible anyway. They say that Violets are shy, but me, I take the whole damn cake.
When I finally make it back to the car I see a parking ticket stuck to my windscreen, Just fucking great, I don’t see how this night could get any worse.
I rummage through my little clutch for the keys to unlock the door when I feel a breath in my ear, “Hello, little flower.”
Then it all goes dark.
4
Him
I watch her as she sits in the restaurant I picked out for our date. She’s so beautiful, especially as she is all dressed up, pretty just for me. Of course, I already knew how she looked, not just from her profile picture, but because I picked her out for myself. She has no idea that I already knew who she was, that we had met previously. I had run into her by chance in the supermarket while out doing mundane chores like grocery shopping. She had dropped her purse while reaching up for something on one of the high shelves. I’d been stunned by her innocence and looks, but when her purse emptied, and I saw the name on her ID, Violet Blackthorn. I had to have her.
I knew right then that she would be mine. I did what anyone with an obsession such as mine does; I dug deeper to find the roots of this girl. Then bingo! The chat room. I created a profile, and I then inserted myself into her life, while plotting how to get her out of it and into mine. I know everything there is to know about sweet, shy little Violet, and soon, very soon, she will know me too.
Now, after six months of manipulation, talking, building this connection she speaks of, here we are. I sit at the bar and have a non-alcoholic drink while I watch. I want my senses sharp and alert while I await my moment of opportunity. I get a thrill just knowing that I am in the same room with her, and she has absolutely no idea. I laugh under my breath when I look at the time after hearing her timidly ask for the bill; she waited nearly an hour for me. I’m almost impressed, and definitely feeling smug that she felt I was worth waiting that long for. When she gets up to leave, I quickly pay the tab before following after her, careful to keep enough distance not to be seen or my tread heard.
The moment I’ve been waiting for presents itself while she is preparing to unlock her car, and I take it. I lean over Violet, careful not to trip or touch her. My hand is behind my back with the damp cloth concealed in the palm, when I breathe her in before softly whispering, “Hello, little flower.”