I am Pure

Read about inside - was too long to fit in the 'About the story' bit. (HINT: it's about Sirens, but not as we know them...)


6. Getting Drunk With Violet

Getting Drunk With Violet


“So what’s your name?”

          We were walking down a dirt path, me still shaking and in a complete daze. The girl named Violet had insisted I follow her, and I had done so all the way through town, down to this trail leading towards the sandy shores. My ankles were being teased by sharp blades of grass, a coat of them covering the sandy ground around me. The sea air, warm but pleasant against my skin, was whipping my now dry red locks around my face, and I fought to keep it down, my fingers battling it so it would look less idiotic. I was feeling more stupid by the minute, realising I hadn’t bothered to brush my hair after I washed it. I appreciated that I looked extremely childish, with my knotted hair, bright flip-flop in hand (I had lost the other one whilst running for my life, and even I could recognise that walking with one shoe is appalling) and every inch of my body covered despite heat. It was even worse walking next to a girl so stunning, her golden hair soaking up the sun, irritatingly immune to the wind’s blow. To make it worse, she was attempting to make idle small talk with me, something I wasn’t used to, leaving me gawping like a retarded goldfish, and my little confidence was rapidly evaporating.

          “Uh, Rose,” I managed, practically hyperventilating, “Rose Banks.”

          “Rose, huh?” She asked to confirm my answer. I got the feeling my name had given her an idea, as her forehead creased in concentration and her gaze wandered in thought. I took the opportunity, the silence, to take a closer look at her, careful to restrain myself from reaching out, and stroke her head like I would a cat.

           In my opinion, Violet was taking her name a bit too far. Every item of clothing she wore was bright purple, from her ruffled, short-sleeved blouse, to the pair of ballet pumps she wore on her petite feet. The mini skirt she wore was exactly the same shade of purple as the blouse, and barely made it mid thigh. Something told me her outfit wasn’t just for the heat, but it didn’t bother me.  I only wished I had a pair of amazing legs of my own to show to the world, but I knew such a feat would be impossible.

          I was glad her head, the top of it only coming up to my chin, was turned away from me, as the eyes disconcerted me. They were the exact shade as mine, as my mothers, and I felt as if something wasn’t entirely right about them, as if a piece of the puzzle didn’t quite fit. Her fair skin, although I had seen many paler, unsettled me further, as if I was looking at myself, but not quite seeing me.

          On the other hand, I felt totally comfortable in her presence. Talking to her, maybe not, but walking together, being within touching distance, gave me chills. It wasn’t the sort you got when you were in the presence of an attractive boy, but I had the same pull, the need to be in their company, without the need to kiss them. It was like I felt compelled to do as she said, to stay in her presence, and it intrigued me.

          “Where are we going?” I startled myself when I spoke, not expecting it.

          “I told you, you need a drink,” Violet turned her head back and smiled in an attempt of humour, but it fell when she saw the seriousness on my face. “OK, my house is just down the coast, you can sort yourself out there.”

          At first I was shocked, thinking she meant I looked hideous, but when she saw the horrified expression she added, “That must have been a terrible ordeal for you, being chased and all...”

          “Oh, yeah, it was pretty terrible,” I stammered, understanding at last, “Couldn’t we have done that at my place?”

          “We could have,” she nodded, considering my suggestion, but then the playful smile returned to her face. “But I bet your place doesn’t have vodka.”

          I had to laugh, a real genuine laugh. The sensation felt strange, having never had a reason to before now, “Yeah, I guess you’re right!”

          Could it be possible? I asked myself. Have I found a friend, at long last? I didn’t know, but it seemed a likely explanation to the facts.

          I continued to follow Violet without doubt in my mind that the smile on my face wasn’t coming off for a long while.  



This is your place?”

          I gasped, taking in the smooth interior and the cheerfulness of the atmosphere.

          It wasn’t at all like our apartment, which was rigid and firm. The furniture was cosy, inviting you to curl up on the sofa and relax into oblivion. The house looked like it belonged in a show room, not a house at all. It still looked lived in, but not untidy, as the creams and pinks of the walls and furnishings gave the apartment a warm feel, but at the same time blocking out the heat of the blistering day outside. Inside, it was a whole new place, the type of home where you could light a fire in the dead of summer, and the temperature would still be just right.

          This wasn’t the most predominant feature. All over the walls, on every surface, and even on the real oak floor, there were flower heads and petals, and array of rainbow pastels bringing the home to life. There were pinks, lavenders, and baby blues, as well as white snowdrops and rose petals, and each, in my opinion, completed the house, making it as unique as it was.

          “You like?” Violet said with a grin, gesturing to the walls around us. She placed a hand on her hip, making her curved hips stand out even more. I took that as a sign indicating she was happy, ecstatic even. How I knew this, I had no idea.

          “I designed it myself!” She exclaimed, clearly proud to show her masterpiece to someone new, “I think it reflects what I am.”

          It was a curious choice of words, but I missed that and the quizzical look she gave me, too in awe to notice. “Wow.” I said simply, because there wasn’t anything else I could say.

          Violet gave a little sigh, maybe out of exhaustion. We had walked miles, and my muscles were certainly complaining.

          Suddenly, my new friend gripped my arm, the smile on her lips radiating excitement, and shook me, as if I had zoned out and gone to a land of fantasy.

          “Come to my room!” She laughed, continuing to shake me. “It’s where I keep my secret stash!”

          With that, she took off up the spiralled (spiralled? Did that place hold no limits as to how amazing it could be?) staircase and I had no choice but to follow her.

          If I had thought Violet’s clothes were bad, her room was terrible, but astonishing at the same time.

          The whole room was covered, ceiling to floor, in violet, decorated with dried out violets and photographs climbing up the walls. It was hard not to notice what all the pictures had in common, and I tried to avoid the numerous gazes of those amber eyes. The floor was clear, and no items were out of place on the surfaces, each so straight and regimented it could have been measured accurately. On the opposite side of the room, there was a large purple screen, obscuring a rounded window from view, giving the room a mysterious air.

“Wow,” I said again.


          She bent down, gold head disappearing under the bed, which was covered in plush cushions and an assortment of stuffed animals. I couldn’t help but smile again. Violet had a tendency to make me do that.  

          She returned with a bottle, and two plastic cups, and held one out to me. “As promised,” she said, whilst pouring me a generous amount.

          I held it to my lips, uncertain, as Violet changed her mind about the cup, and settled for the bottle instead.

          “What?” She asked with a sigh, taking a long swig.

          “Well,” I began, not wanting to sound rude, or worse, uncool, “Isn’t drinking when you’re sixteen, like, against the law?”

          I realised as soon as I said it, that I had already broken that law only hours ago.

          “Isn’t what those men did to you against the law?”

          I had to give it to her, she was right. With reason – sort of – on my side, I took a gentle sip from my cup, the fine plastic snapping if I held it too tightly. The taste was sweet, and instantly made me feel better, my head a little lighter. I decided to make the most of the opportunity, and drained the cup, gulping thirstily, not having eaten or drunk all day.

          “Easy there!” Violet steadied me playfully. “You’ll pass out!”

          Not a bad idea, I thought.

          There was a moment of silence, only broken by the quiet splashing of the alcohol inside Violet’s bottle.

          “I’m ready for you to tell me now,” I sighed, sitting on the bed, the relaxing of my muscles a satisfying sensation.

“Tell you what?” She asked innocently, yellow eyes wide, fingers running through her curls.

“You brought me here to tell me something, not just to get me drunk. I may be ugly, but I’m not stupid.”

Violet made another sympathetic noise, but this time there was much more emotion behind it, a lot more pity. She sat down next to me and put her hands on mine, her skin smooth, like something I had felt before, something very familiar. “You really believe you’re not pretty, don’t you?”

I nodded, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“OK,” she sighed, “But you’ve got to promise not to tell the girls I told you!”

“What girls?”


Before she could finish, a door opened and slammed below us, and the thunder of footsteps grew ever closer. Violet’s expression turned angry, as if someone had just interrupted her favourite TV programme.

“Shit,” she cursed under her breath, walking over to the door and locking it. “Go behind the screen!” She added in a hiss, hand indicating to the object behind me.

I quickly obeyed, empty cup still in hand. There was a wooden stool, and I sat on it automatically, blinded by the blazing sun staring at me through the disk shaped window.

“Open up!” a muffled female voice demanded. The request was forceful even through the wooden door.

“One second!” Violet replied, “Just getting changed.”

There was a pause, then the turn of a lock, and two new pairs of feet walked into the room. 

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