A Message from Violet

It is a ten-hour drive from Kansas to Maryland. I made it in eight to get to Upper Chesapeake Medical Center to see my best friend.

You know. The one I left in your care.

Let me explain.

Around 11:00 last night, Celie's father saw her storm out of the house -- all attempts to stop her failed, and she ran.

From what I've been able to gather from (the still only semi-conscious) Celie, she ran from the house and made her way through Rocks, alone, until she came to a local playground and fishing hole called Friends Park. She then called out Practical Cat, who, after some time, revealed himself to her.

The two had some kind of verbal exchange, but she wouldn't say very much about it other than what is stated below.

Celie pulled her gun and fired off three shots before the Cat was able to disarm her. The defensive wounds on her wrists and one broken toe suggest that she put up a hell of a fight, but in the end, she was defeated.

Okay, that's an understatement.

And you all deserve to know the truth, because it's partially your fucking fault.

He beat the ever-loving hell out of her.

I don't think there's a single part of her body that isn't cut or bruised. Her shoulder was dislocated. The nurse here said that when they brought her in, she was covered head to toe in blood, most of it her own.

Would you like to know the best part?

Zeke, you especially listen up.

He marked her.

At some point, he got her onto her stomach, straddled her back, and carved that fucking symbol into the back of her neck. That little spot right where her two shoulders meet. The doctors say if he'd cut an eighth of an inch deeper, he could have hit her spine and killed her.

In fact, it was her screams at he cut her that alerted the people living nearby -- because they thought a fucking animal was being slaughtered.

And do you know what he said while he was doing it? I'll tell you, because she's been fucking repeating it in her sleep:

"You're mine. Why can't you understand? You don't belong to anybody but me. You're mine."



And now, dear readers, I want a fucking explanation.

I told you to look after her. I told you to keep your eye on her because she would try to convince you everything was okay.

Her brother tells me she's been chain smoking like a fiend. She's been drinking herself silly. She's been snapping at people out of turn and not leaving her room for days at a time except to go to work.

How did somebody not fucking notice this girl going in a downward spiral?!

Maybe I should've made it clearer to you: Celie will not seek help on her own. It's practically the fucking first rule of Celie.

And now none of it matters, because she's in the hospital, beaten and marked.

And yes, I do blame you. No, I do not give a shit if you disagree. Celie loves you guys more than anything. I do not share that affection.

And as for you, Ezekiel Fucking Strahm. What the hell was that last night? "Herp derp, I promised to do everything I could to protect this girl, lemme go right ahead and insult the fuck out of her, THAT'LL CALM HER DOWN!"

If you feel like you're to blame for this, Zeke, it's because you are.

I'll keep you guys updated on her condition. Just know that she's stable for now.

And know that they say the scar on her neck will never go away.