This story is basically about, I guess, showing that even if life kicks the shit out of you and expects you to kill yourself, to just... not, because there's so much love out there and so much beauty and wonder. You don't have to look further than your window to be able to feel pride in just being so lucky and so alive.
Song for the Chapter: Highschool Lover - Air (Virgin Suicides Soundtrack)
Violet was known around the elm-lined neighbourhood as the American Sweetheart with dark blue eyes and blonde hair. Violet had pixie bones and her father was always away on business trips and her mother was doped to the eyeballs on Valium or Xanax or something that made her eyes produce a glassy film and her body limp.
Violet would practice her ballet on her back porch, and Hollow, her best friend and next door neighbour, would watch quietly from his bedroom window that overlooked her back yard. He didn't know if he felt love for her or if he just admired her grace, but every Saturday after soccer practice he'd sit on his window sill and simply watch.
Violet's kind heart and gentle features won hearts, but too bad her's was fixated on a mangy, skinny dog that shook and snivelled and wheezed.