Background Noise [HS]

TWENTY-FIVE

Violet drove at a glacial pace through the town. The headlights of her little sedan barely penetrated the snow, leaving the lights of the city to lead the way. She changed lanes with delicacy, applying the brakes with caution so as not to go spinning out on the icy roads. Every part of her being was on high alert, ready to spring into action in a moment's notice if something were to go horribly wrong. She sat on the edge of her seat, fingers wound tightly around the steering wheel, eyes scanning the road ahead.

Her windshield blades wiped flurries of snow clean from the glass, and the heater was on as high as it would possibly go. Still, she shivered in her seat, pressed her thighs together, cowered down into her coat.

There were times when she thought about turning back. Every red light brought a new wave of doubt, though while she sat deep in thought, they would flicker green and she would be on her way again.

As Violet reached the outskirts of town and breached the descent into darkness, she cast one last glance at the box wrapped in red, topped with a purple bow. The look lasted just long enough to catch the last of the city lights reflect off its metallic surface before she swallowed and turned back toward the grim horizon.

The little sedan lapped the neighborhood a countless amount of times, its driver buzzing with nerves, pretending to be lost. Violet kept circling the same row of homes, stalling what she had originally set out to accomplish. The worst of the journey was already over, so why did this seem to be the hardest part?

"You've come all this way," she told herself. "Don't be a coward."

Her determination did little to ease her nerves, though she swallowed them down. The suspension in her car rolled forward as she turned her wheel, making the lurching transition between road and driveway. Violet was tense, body set on the edge in both fear and anticipation. She was slow moving up the drive, just allowing the car to coast its way up the incline of cement.

The lights inside the house were off.

The vehicle she parked parallel to was blocked from her peripheral, tunnel vision set on the door looming ahead. Violet's feet seemed to soak up the ground beneath them as she approached, box pressed close to her side.

Harry'd been working toward sleep when a knock came from his front door. With a gruff and a throwing of covers, he crawled out of bed, bare feet padding along the carpet. The curtain to his window was parted, eyes narrowed before adjusting to the light. Beside his Range Rover sat a familiar little sedan, and on his doorstep stood the silhouette of a familiar little girl.

"Bloody hell," he cursed, throwing on a pair of joggers and a black t-shirt.

It was easy navigating the dark depths of his home, though he knew not what to do upon reaching the front door. There, he pressed his forehead to the wood and closed his eyes with a sigh, blindly undoing the latch and lock. He all but fell into the barrier, letting his drowse collect itself there for several moments in preparation of what lied on the other side.

He swallowed, and, with eyebrows knit together, backed away and opened the door.

Violet was halfway down the steps with her back turned and something tucked away beneath the wing of her arm. Harry half thought her to be fleeing until she froze on the last step. The time passed like that for an uncountable measure, the pair aware of the other's presence, neither quite ready to face it. He watched her foot shift in place, weight redistributed as she stood like a statue in mid-step, refusing to turn around.

"Violet."

She looked terrified stood rather confrontationally outside his home. The steps practically put him on a pedestal and her on the ground, looking up. This was not only a dominating position, but a comprising one, for she was stood out in the storm and he, within the shelter of the front porch.