Chapter Text
“Hey, kid, wake up! Are you still with us?” A familiar voice echoed.
Fingers snapped close to her face.
“Stop it, she’s already waking up,” A different voice said.
Her eyes fluttered open, looking up and around her, faces looking down at her. Trager’s, Gluskin, the twins, and someone unfamiliar.
Her breath hitched, and she shrieked, scrambling to get away from them.
“Woah, woah, hey, it’s okay–ow!”
She slapped the stranger in the face, holding her hands over her own as scooted back. She continued screaming, throwing his hands away in order to get away. And then her screaming continued into wailing, scooting back as far as she could.
“Get the fuck away from me! Get away, get away,” she screamed, scooting back on her heels. “Stay away from me!”
She cried, heaving as she bundled in on herself. She rocked herself, trying to calm herself down. Those images replayed over and over, hearing that buzzing and the whispers in her head. It felt like her head was going to explode, so much noise was going on.
“Just be quiet. Quiet, quiet,” she repeated, rocking back and forth.
“Kid seems more crazy than us,” Trager’s voice commented.
She continued to cry, rocking herself as she buried her head in her knees.
“Hey.”
A hand touched her shoulder. She flinched, looking up and scooting back.
It was an unfamiliar man.
Bald, scarred lightly around his mouth and nose, and his eyes were somewhat clouded over, but had some color to them. He looked at her with a hint of surprise, and concern. She tried to move away once more, hitting a wall.
“Hey, hey. It’s okay, it’s okay, we’re not going to hurt you,” he said to ease her, showing his hands as recognition.
He had chains around his wrists, and his fingernails were long, sharp claws.
“Walker,” she whispered, staring at him.
“That’s right, my name is Chris. Do you…do you remember your name?” He asked, his gruff voice trying to be soft.
She nodded, her lip curling. She held herself as she sobbed.
“Violet,” she croaked.
“Okay, Violet. Are you okay? Can you walk?” He said, moving to try and get her up.
She flinched, curling in on herself as she buried her face.
“You tried to kill me,” she said as she cried. “You tried to kill me!”
Her hands went around her throat, holding the spot where he choked her. He winced, standing up and stepping back.
“A-And what about me? You remember me?” Trager asked, kneeling in front of her.
He wore a pair of pants now, and a half-buttoned shirt, covered in bloodstains.
“You cut off my finger,” she replied shakily, sniffling.
He grimaced, stepping back.
One of the twins came up to her, kneeling down by her side. His face was somewhat sympathetic. And he was also wearing clothes, bloodstained and a bit loose on him.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
She sobbed, throwing her arms around him. He was taken aback, but slowly put his arms around her, holding her as she cried.
“I wanna go home, I wanna go home,” she repeated.
“Hey, hey, we can do that. We just have to get out of here, okay?” Walker reassured, kneeling down to look at her. “Okay?”
She sniffled, nodding her head.
“Okay,” she replied half-heartedly.
The first twin let go of her, and she rose to her feet. She swayed on her feet, the first twin holding her up. The voices continued, the buzzing continued, and she averted her gaze to the ground.
“Is something wrong?” Gluskin asked.
“No, no! I’m fine,” she replied quickly.
The others around her just looked at her. She glanced between them, hearing the voices much more clear.
“Liar.”
She swatted her hand close to her ear, trying to silence the voice.
“P-Perfectly fine,” she said once more.
They made faces, but turned back to walk towards the exit. She sighed, and followed them.
Up in the room with the monitors, she saw it. A camcorder, and folders with files inside of them. She glanced back at the others, who walked away without notice. She quickly grabbed them, carrying both items along as she ran up to catch up to them. By the time they made it to the elevator, everything was quiet. It descended up, and they all were quiet, not daring to make a sound. Violet looked down at the floor, and then down at her hands, making her eyes go wide.
She had her finger again.
She bent and flexed it, brushing over the files in her hands. She smiled to herself, seeing that whatever happened, or whatever the reason, the Walrider healed her. The elevator stopped at the first floor, to the entrance of the asylum.
“The door’s still locked,” Trager said, yanking on the handle with the padlock and chains on it.
“Move,” Walker commanded.
He walked up to the door, and in one swift kick, the door swung open, wood cracking and splintering out on the floor.
“He could’ve done that to me,” Violet thought as she trailed behind the others.
Outside, it was cold, but the rain was no more. She breathed in the cold air, a stark difference from the smell of blood.
“Where are your keys?” Walker asked her.
“Why?” She questioned, digging through her pockets.
“You’re in no condition to drive,” he merely said, taking the keys from her.
“Hey!”
She walked after him, up to her car.
“This is my car! I should be able to drive it!” She retorted.
“With what you went through?”
“It would be wise to let someone else drive.” Both the twins agreed, looking back at her.
“Enough arguing, just get in the damn car!” Trager added, chattering his teeth.
The doors were unlocked, and they all climbed inside. She set the camcorder and the paper files down on the dash.
"Let's see if I remember how to do this," she heard Walker mutter under his breath.
He put the car in reverse, a lurch in the car, and carefully turned around before he stepped on the gas, going down the mountainside.
It was still dark outside, the clock in the car reading 2:23 a.m. Everyone was quiet, probably tired from the events.
Walker sat in the driver’s seat, hunched over the steering wheel. The twins, Trager, and Eddie in the backseat. Violet took up the passenger side, looking out the window. Violet bounced her free leg, feeling uneasy in the silence.
“So…” Violet started, “have you ever been outside of the asylum?”
“No.”
“Never.”
“Not a single step out.”
“No, never.”
The responses followed. Walker was still quiet. She glanced at him, seeing him look out the windshield.
“What year is it?” He asked, his voice gruff.
“2013,” Violet’s small voice answered.
He sighed.
“I haven’t stepped out in four years,” he responded.
She breathed steady as he sped down the mountain, looking for the familiar dirt driveway.
“Turn here,” she said, pointing at the dirt road to the left.
Once he pulled in, he stopped the car, leaning back in the car seat. He turned the lights and the car off, pulled out her keys and handed them to her. But she just sat there, as well as the others.
“Is this your home?” She heard from the backseat, Eddie peering over her shoulder.
“Yeah, this is it.”
“Looks well-off,” Walker commented.
Violet grabbed the papers and camcorder, stepping out of the car. She pulled out her house key, unlocking the door to let the others inside. Trager looked around, dazed.
“You really went through the trouble of going into that place? For what reason?” He asked.
She opened the door, the others filing in one by one. She paused before she answered.
“It’s what I was told by…Miles.”
Trager scoffed.
He was the last to walk inside, Violet taking a good look around before shutting the door behind her, locking it. Inside, the lights were bright. She set her car keys on the counter, setting the camcorder and papers down.
“Take your shoes off please,” she said nonchalantly.
The heavy clinking and thud of chains startled her, seeing Walker bend and flex his wrists as he took off the chains around them. He did the same for the ones wrapped around his ankles, taking off his heavy boots. She looked at him for a moment’s notice, before he looked in her direction. She looked away, making her way to the upstairs part of the house.
“There’s a guest bedroom up here, but you all will have to sleep there tonight. Sorry,” she said to them.
“No need to apologize.”
“A room of our own is the least of our worries.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll see if there’s any clothes around here for…” she glanced at Trager and Walker, “some of you.”
She made her way upstairs, going into her bedroom, with the side bathroom. She passed the mirror, looking at her reflection.
She was injured, part of her face and forehead covered in blood. She looked closer at her face, seeing blood vessels had popped in her eyes, and bruises formed around her neck, from where Walker had grabbed her. She still had blood under her nose, dried and crusted. Her clothes were a mess. Blood covered her jacket and part of her shirt, as well as her jeans. She stripped, seeing if there were more injuries on her. She had bruises on her chest, her torso, her back, littered in spots where she had been tossed and shoved. Injuries from maneuvering her way through the asylum.
She took a quick shower, washing away the blood as she watched it go down the drain. Once she was out she dried off, putting on a pair of sweatpants and an old ratty t-shirt. She made her way to the guest bedroom, seeing Walker already inside. He had no shirt, obviously.
She felt uneasy, seeing such a large man so…calm.
Someone who had nearly taken her life. He looked at her.
“Well you cleaned up nice,” he commented.
Violet didn’t say anything, but rather went to the closet, seeing suitable clothes for him and the others, for now.
Her mother always kept extra clothes, for no reason. Even though it was just the two of them, she kept them, for some reason.
Being a single mother wasn’t easy, and she wouldn’t be back from her night shift until the morning. It was a Friday, and weekends were usually the busiest part of the week where she wouldn’t see her mother for a while.
She picked the clothes up, folded neatly as she handed them to Walker.
“Here. These should fit you,” she said to him.
“Thanks, but you didn’t have to go through all this trouble,” he replied, taking the clothes from her.
“It’s fine,” she said before she walked out the door, with another set of clothes for Trager.
Downstairs, the others sat at the kitchen table, their heads hung low. They perked as Violet entered, walking to Trager to give him the clothes.
“Here,” she said to him.
He looked down at the clothes, taking them gently.
“There’s a shower in the guest bedroom. I’ll find more stuff for the rest of you,” she explained.
“Why are you helping us?” Trager asked suddenly, looking up at her.
It was a question that caught her off guard, and she couldn’t come up with an answer.
“Yes. Why go through the unbearable pain? We...we must've done horrible things,” Eddie added.
She remembered what Gluskin had said to her, seeing his mood shift so suddenly. What he said, what he threatened. It felt like ages ago, but looking at him now, it felt like she was talking to an entirely different person.
And then Trager. He was bone thin, and his appearance was haunting. Scarring on his lip and face. One of his eyes drooped and was clouded over. and the scars on his head was something she didn't want to even ask about right now.
Violet remembered what Miles had said, his mission, his instructions to her.
“Because Miles would’ve wanted me to,” she answered quietly.
The others had furrowed glances, the twins showing no emotion.
Violet shifted, impatient and just wanting to go to bed.
“Hurry up and take a shower. I’ll make breakfast in the morning,” she said.
She grabbed the camcorder and papers, going up to her room.
“Oh! Young lady!” Eddie’s voice called.
She turned back to look at him.
“Thank you, for everything you've done for us. We are especially grateful.”
She stared at him, registering his words.
“Thank you, but you can just call me Violet.”
“A beautiful name,” Eddie replied.
She nodded, continuing on up to her bedroom. She set out the papers and camcorder on her desk, looking through her own closet for pillows and blankets. By this time, the voices had stopped, but the buzzing was low in her ear, just barely audible in the silence of the house. She walked back to the guest bedroom, where Walker was sitting, now cleaned up and wearing a shirt and sweatpants.
“I don’t know who’s gonna take the bed. You’ll have to take turns or share,” she said to him.
She set out the blankets and pillows, making sleeping spots for the others.
“I can’t thank you enough, kid. You have a lot of nerve coming into that place, and making it out alive,” he said.
“What can I say? I probably got it from my dad,” she replied back, setting down one of the blankets.
“You never mentioned him before,” he said.
“You look just like your dad.”
Those were the words Miles said to her before he died, thinking back on them now, she didn’t know if she knew him or not at some point.
They were cryptic, ringing out in her head over and over.
She shook her head.
“He ran off after having a one night stand with my mom, and then she had me.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“It’s fine. I never got to know him, but I look more like him than I do my mom,” she said, looking at her light skin and freckles.
She was a lot lighter than her mom, and shared little traits from her, besides her mole on her top lip and near her eye, as well as the freckles.
“Oh really? Is that why you dye your hair?”
“Yeah; I’m a natural blonde.”
She felt eyes bore into her, looking back to see him looking at her. It was almost like he was observing her, taking in every little detail.
“So do you have a plan?” He asked her.
“What do you mean?”
“You took a camcorder and folder files. Do you have a means for exposing Murkoff?”
She thought about it for a second, leaning down on the edge of the bed, away from him. What would a kid do against such a large company? One that took people and experimented on them? So much so that the rest of the United States didn’t even know about it?
“I don’t know. I’ll have to figure it out,” she answered. “Miles told me about a few people that could help.”
“You better hope that Murkoff doesn't find you,” Chris said.
She looked at him, wide-eyed.
“What does that mean? They’ll come looking for me? For you?”
“They’ll probably send their litigation officers down here, investigate the asylum. Maybe even kill anyone that’s left,” he explained. “But they’ll want to know what happened.”
“How do you know?”
“Because that’s what they did to me.”
Violet opened and closed her mouth.
“I see,” she said.
There was an uneasy silence, Trager walking in.
“Am I interrupting something?”
Violet made her way to the door, shaking her head.
“No, it’s nothing.”
She looked downstairs to see the other three.
“You three go to bed, I’ll think of something in the morning to do,” she commanded. “I’m going to bed.”
“What about your parents?” Eddie asked.
“We’re assuming your mother and father don't know what you did tonight.”
“And will wonder why there are strange men in their house.”
They were right.
However it had to happen, her mother had to know. But she had to make sure that she wouldn’t do something stupid like call the cops or have Murkoff at her door.
“I’ll tell my mom…but I don’t have a dad,” she replied with a shrug.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. That must be so hard for you,” Eddie replied.
“I never met him. I never asked about him, so why would I care?” She lied, shrugging her shoulders.
She went to her room, walking and shutting the door behind her. She looked at the camcorder, and then at the papers.
“I’ll look at it in the morning,” she thought as she laid in her bed, pulling the covers up over her.
It wasn’t going to be easy, taking care of five new escapees. She didn’t let it bother her that there were five strange men in her house–in her mother’s house.
She was going to raise hell if she came in in the morning, asking questions. But she was more worried about covering her tracks, making sure no one found her, or the others.
Whatever Murkoff did, they were going to eventually find out, or stick their nose somewhere else, if they weren’t tipped off by whatever evidence they found in the asylum.
She just had to pray they wouldn’t find her.