Hey, guys. I'm feeling exhaustion - Shelly style (I just woke up), and have more on how to move this along a bit more - I'm only planning to use five verses of the song = five chapters. (The chorus changes in the song, so I'm using the chorus twice, and it'll have more effect on the ending.) So yeah, enjoy.
This has been a great story to do, 'cause now I know a little more about insomnia.
I find this particular verse ironic, if it's from Quigley's point of view. Violet
can't fall asleep, and therefore "can't realise that she loves him", to put it in the guise of the song.
Chapter Three
Usually, Quigley and Violet both arrived home from work at the same time. But this particular day, Violet was about an hour late, and Quigley was getting worried as he finished cooking dinner. His fingered opened the small, velvet, blue jewelry box he had been holding to reveal a small, simple diamond engagement ring - and he sighed. He had been planning to propose for days now, and he had decided this day to be it. Though where Violet was, Quigley just didn't know.
A few minutes later, with these thoughts still gnawing at his brain, a key turned in the lock and Violet stepped in wearily, emotionless.
Quigley jumped up to meet her, but she walked past him blankly and sat down at the table.
Violet was in shock.
Quigley sat next to her and grasped her hand worriedly. Obviously, no matter how ready he was now, she was nowhere near. Besides, something had just happened that might explain her being late.
Her face crumpled, and he held her to him as she shook.
"I went to the doctor," Violet gulped, "And I've been diagnosed with acute insomnia."
Quigley's heart just fell to his knees.
"But you were just asleep this morning!"
"No." Violet's eyes were brimming with tears, and she bit her lip. "That was an act for your benefit. I haven't slept in
weeks."
"But why couldn't you tell me?"
"
I don't know. But I feel . . . like. . . I can't hold on much longer."
"And after everything we've been through? What's triggered it?" Quigley asked, his panic rising. "The events of ten, nine years ago?"
The truth hit her like a ton of bricks. It
had caught up with her, just when she thought she'd beaten it and moved on.
Violet put her head between her knees, and Quigley pushed his chair aside and fell by her feet, tears in his own eyes.
Violet wailed. "I'm so
scared. It's just so
hard to hold on to life. . ."
"
Try, Violet, please try." he begged, and he grasped her hands. "Klaus and Sunny, murdered by Olaf right in front of you. . . but you survived for a reason, and you deserve the right to stick around to find out why. We both do."
They were both crying now, their faces wet.
"I just didn't want to worry you," she sobbed, and Quigley hugged her as they cried together, the lamp chops and veggies Quigley had prepared laying forgotten.
* * *
A couple of hours later, Violet - still in her work clothes - was stitting on the couch, a bowl of popcorn and a ginormous teddy bear Quigley had once won at a fair for her for company, and some movies she'd selected spread out on the coffee table as she started watching one.
Quigley was tidying up for bed, doing the dishes and collecting the washing and such.
"Are you sure that you don't want me with you?" he asked worriedly, balancing the laundry basket.
"Nah. Don't
worry, dear." she replied, lifting herself from the couch and kissing his nose. "Who knows, I might actually drift off. Just get some sleep, Quigs. Just because
I can't, doesn't mean
you shouldn't."
Violet plopped herself back on the couch, bathed in the glow of their widescreen as he tottered off to their bedroom.
Quigley found the bed a mess from last night, and shook his head. Just one day ago, he and Violet had cuddled right here, in this bed.
And it had all changed, in just a heartbeat.
He sighed, and spotted among the sheets Violet's nightgown. He picked it up, and it slid in his fingers as he touched the straps, and followed a side seam to the hem of the dress.
Quigley then held it to his cheek, remembering a different night from last night, and closed his eyes among the silk, smiling.
It smelled like Violet. He couldn't describe the scent or fix it to a certain flower, but it was her. It reminded him of roses, but it was not quite.
He flopped onto the bed, exhausted but not yet sleepy, the gown in his arms as he remembered the previous night, and he realised that nothing would ever be quite the same again.
). So I handed it up, and after he read it, he graded me on the spot. 88%! I'm just so proud because half the class didn't understand what to do, and I had almost pulled my essay from thin air, so YAY!!!!!!!!!
). So I handed it up, and after he read it, he graded me on the spot. 88%! I'm just so proud because half the class didn't understand what to do, and I had almost pulled my essay from thin air, so YAY!!!!!!!!!
Gifted sounds like presents, so I'm happy with that.
Poor Violet. 
