Book 3: Chapter 47 - Exactly What Kind of Failure Are You?

Miss Asher has turned entirely hostile.
It is strongly recommended that a second professional be granted clearance for her treatment.
I will do what I can in the meantime, as required by Chromatic policy.
But circumstances limit the effectiveness of my continued care.

Client has been nearly despondent during recent meetings.
Stress surrounding Chromatic controversies seems to have reached a boiling point.
Actions suggest some connection with the Cruel Ivy Killer is likely.

Violet felt awful. She still hadn’t managed to catch up with her team. She’d had a brief opportunity to do so after her... meeting with Bouvier, but she’d been in no mood to try. She’d been left white with rage for an hour and a half after the supposed five minutes she’d spent in hell.

She'd lived nearly her entire life suffering disrespect and disdain from the people of Roseville. But those five minutes had been worse. It had been the purest form of powerlessness she had lived through so far, and the very thought of it made her skin crawl. She’d felt no pain, and she’d suffered no injury. No one had so much as touched her, much less drawn blood.

But she'd existed in a world of nothing, and that was far more miserable. There was nothing to control. No flowing water to direct or wind to challenge. No time to bide and no earth to tread upon. She couldn't so much as whisper and have an effect on her own ears. She had been raised to lead. To put her hands on the steering wheel and direct. She was a ruler at heart, even before she’d had the power to enforce it. Bouvier had taken that from her. It was like he'd pulled the air directly from her lungs just to watch her suffocate.

He didn't even seem to understand how badly he'd fucked up. He'd called the talent “Nightmare,” and he transparently had no idea what she'd experienced inside it. That meant he didn't even understand the torment he'd chosen for her. Just that she was suffering. It also meant she couldn't bluff and pretend to be unbothered. He would know his talent, and he would know it was the worst thing Violet could imagine.

All her free time had been wasted after that, hiding in a private study room and trying to get her breathing back under control. Coming to terms with the reality that she'd have to face the same hell again. And again. And again. It was either accept that trap in her future or give in to mediocrity. Category Yellow as her peak and countless enemies with the power to rule her life. Or end it, as they’d done before. And that may as well have been the same option. She was either going to rule or be ruled, and she didn’t have the stomach to look up instead of down.

There was only one way she could accept that. Abel Bouvier was going to die. He was going to be frightened and alone. There would be nowhere left for him to turn, and he would know who’d killed him. That was how she calmed herself. She took heavy breaths, and she planned. She pictured each individual death. She drank in the suffering she would cause. The pain these people had earned. And the ever-expanding freedom she would feel as each life was snuffed out.

She would smile at Abel as he died. And it would only be sweeter for every moment she spent under his control. He could subject her to nightmares. Fleeting dreams that made her sick. But they couldn't actually hurt her. Violet was real.

And he would not survive her.

“Miss Asher, are you still with me?” Shepard asked.

Violet sniffed. She sat in a now-familiar chair in the therapist's office. She'd wasted her chance to catch up with her friends, and she'd left them to discover Koral's arrest on their own. There was no chance they wouldn't, either. The news was all over campus. The police hadn't just arrested the girl—they'd actually publicly announced all the evidence Violet had sent them.

Or... Koral had sent it, technically. Violet had slipped it in with Aubrey's mail.

Either way, it was surprising the police had publicly posted all of it. They'd even posted information on Koral that Violet didn't know. The “narcissist” bit had been redacted in Violet’s files. That actually irritated Violet a bit. She'd chosen Koral for a number of reasons, but that hadn’t been one of them. A label which marked Koral as inherently evil and worthy of prison, as far as everyone was concerned. The idea struck a little close to home, for a Nightshade.

There was an unpleasant implication behind that parallel, and Violet was trying to push it out of her head. The reaper killed as a matter of necessity. She was a Nightshade, and therefore marked for death by those in power. So she struck first. She killed as she needed, and she could admit that she enjoyed the role reversal. But it wouldn't be necessary if her so-called victims weren't all ready to do the same to her at the drop of a hat. The rapidly spreading rumors about Koral were evidence of that. One word, and every supposed innocent in school wanted blood. Violet had accepted that. It was kill or be killed, and rule or be ruled.

What bothered her was Koral herself. There was a girl in the same position as Violet, even if it wasn't a perfect one-to-one. And, as far as Violet understood, Koral had no blood on her hands. Of course, the girl wouldn't advance with each kill like Violet. But even so, it got under Violet's skin for some reason. Like she was trying to win an argument, but some part of her mind knew she was wrong. Koral was a counterpoint Violet simply couldn't acknowledge, so she locked the idea in the back of her mind. In a little box, next to all the guilt.

Aside from that, however, the police recklessness wasn't actually an unpleasant surprise. If anything, it was good. It explained Violet’s sudden advancement, even. This was an unprecedented level of control. She even thought she might reach a new degree soon. It was just a shame that Aubrey and Guy were going to hear the rumors so long before Violet could speak with them again. Unfortunately, therapy after watching four students die was apparently a requirement.

“You don't have to speak if you don't want to,” Shepard said. “I am happy to simply provide a quiet room for you to process what happened. No one should have to witness what you’ve lived through. But I do think it would be good for you to vocalize your thoughts, if you are comfortable with that.”

Violet realized she'd been staring at the same plant for at least a full minute. It was an aloe vera plant, potted and resting in the center of the brown coffee table. The natural green was quite nice, and it provided something to focus on while her mind was occupied. But as Shepard spoke again, she finally flicked her eyes up to his.

He wanted to speak so badly? She could speak.

“Did I make a mistake?” she asked.

Shepard took a deep breath. He locked his gaze onto Violet and shook his head, just enough to be understood. “I'm sure you did. Everyone does, every day. I don't know all the details of what happened in the mist. Not exactly. But it's impossible to do everything perfectly,” he answered. “It's not your fault, though. Mistake or otherwise. You aren't responsible for the mission which put you in that position.”

It was Violet's turn to shake her head. “No. I meant with you. Did I make a mistake when I told you about the rumors?” she pushed.

Shepard paused, but only for a single breath. He regained his composure quickly, displaying none of the anxiety Violet knew she'd just inspired. “I'm sorry?” he tried.

“I told you. People thought you might be the Cruel Ivy Killer. Or tangled up with her. And I told you, because I trusted you,” Violet explained. “Was that a mistake? Are they... are the rumors true?”

Shepard was quiet for several seconds as they watched each other. He leaned back in his chair, maintaining eye contact with each movement. Violet could see the worry in his eyes, however many layers of stone he tried to put in the way. His face wasn’t reacting, but he still believed that little white lie. In fact, he seemed more worried than ever, even after one of his clients—or students, rather—had been identified as the culprit. It was obvious Koral couldn’t have done all of that alone, though, which put Shepard on a short list of possible collaborators. Probably not at the top, considering Bouvier’s public actions. But the therapist was almost definitely somewhere on it. And thanks to Violet’s talent, he would be more than a little concerned about that.

“I am not involved with the Cruel Ivy Killer, no,” he denied. His tone had shifted, and the condescending “therapy voice” he always used was missing. Violet fucking hated that voice, and she almost smiled at the response. She chose to scowl instead.

“I haven’t been back long, but the rumors aren’t subtle. You do treat Koral Kiln, correct?” Violet pushed.

Shepard’s lips tightened. “I am unable and unwilling to discuss anyone’s treatment but your own,” Shepard replied.

“She’s dating Aubrey. One of my best friends. One of my only friends, actually. Did you know that?” Violet interrogated.

“I am familiar with your connection to Aubrey Clarke, because you have spoken to me about her before,” Shepard confirmed. “Other students are not relevant to these sessions, and I will not be discussing anything I have met with them about.”

“Aren’t you a mandatory reporter when someone is dangerous? You really had no idea she was hunting people for sport? Or you did, and you just let my friend date a serial killer with no warning? I’m just struggling to understand how this could happen if you gave a single shit about any of us,” Violet accused.

Shepard set his jaw, and Violet could tell he was fighting his own anger. Or frustration, at the very least. “That is correct, Miss Asher. I am a mandatory reporter. If I believed someone in my care was a legitimate danger to anyone, I would alert the proper authorities. I have not done that, because I am confident that is not the case,” he answered.

Violet scoffed. “You’re confident no one in your care is dangerous, are you?” she mocked. “Great. I’m sure that’s of great comfort to the Cruel Ivy Killer’s victims. I’m certain my friend Aubrey—who just barely made it home alive, by the way—will be completely happy to learn about her relationship with the killer. So long as you are confident, I guess. Although I guess you’ll find out soon, right? I’m sure you have a meeting today to discuss it. Should I just tell her it’s all fine and not to come, because you’re pretty sure her girlfriend won’t murder her?” Violet accused.

Usually, Shepard would have folded his hands at that and tried to tackle the source of Violet’s anger. But he was scared. He’d been growing more and more frightened over the past several months, ever since Violet first used her talent. But the allegations against Koral had obviously shaken him. Something about it bothered the man in a way Violet didn’t even understand yet.

“You don’t have any idea what you’re talking about, Violet. Drop this.”

It was the first order he’d ever given her. She’d always known it was coming eventually, and it had taken him a surprisingly long time. But he’d made it there eventually. Telling her what to think and how to feel, instead of helping her do it herself. Ironically, it was a sign that he’d completely lost control. Which meant Violet was in charge.

“Drop it? Are you fucking kidding me? Caleb, I have trusted you for months. More than I trust even my closest friends, and more than I ever trusted my own goddamn parents. Because it is your job to be trustworthy. And I’m suddenly finding out I went to the fucking beach with an infamous serial killer, and you’d been meeting with her five days a week the entire time? What are you even doing here?” Violet snapped back.

“Koral is completely innocent, and you are making accusations you don’t understand. She is simply incapable of the cruelty she’s been accused of,” Shepard challenged, his voice practically a hiss.

“Bullshit!” Violet spat. “I’ve seen the records! I’ve seen your own notes on her! Anyone can look them up now, or haven't you noticed? She is the Cruel Ivy Killer. But you know what? You’re right about one thing. She couldn’t have done it alone. I believe that. Which brings me back to my other question. Are you her partner?”

Shepard offered a cold stare. “There are not many options for psychiatric care involving Chromatic students. There is a security clearance requirement, after all. So it is difficult to refer you to another provider. But it is doable, if you sign off on it. I think it would be best for you to find someone you are more comfortable with,” he replied.

Violet wasn’t letting him go that easily. “I didn’t believe the rumors. I defended you, even. But I have to face the facts. You are either incredibly incompetent, or you were supporting her yourself. Which one is it, Caleb? Are you an idiot or a murderer? Because I don’t love how much I trusted either,” she asked.

“Like I said. It would be best to refer you to another therapist,” he replied, refusing to engage with her accusations. “I’ll have the paperwork delivered to you by the end of the day.”

“I won’t sign it,” Violet dismissed. “I don’t trust you anymore, but I’m absolutely not going to stop meeting with you.”

Shepard sighed and began to rub his temples. “And why is that, Miss Asher?”

“You’re more than a little defensive of the killer, aren’t you? The one you happily sent home to fuck with my friends? I don’t know if you’re an idiot or a killer, but I’m not just going to walk away and leave more of my friends in your care. Not a chance. I want to keep talking to you until I figure out which it is. And so I can have you fired from treating anyone ever again,” Violet explained.

Shepard took a long and deep breath through his nose. “Then I suppose I will have to continue trying to help you. If that’s what you want to talk about, well. The rules are the same as they always have been. Ask whatever questions you like,” he agreed.

Violet glared. He was playing it cool, exactly as he was clearly trained to do. But that was alright. Violet had time to nurture his paranoia. When she was done with him, he’d believe the entire school had convicted him in their minds. If she was lucky, it would even be true. And she’d start it with a question she already knew the answer to.

“Great. Exactly how many of the Cruel Ivy Killer’s victims are named in your notes?” she asked.