Blank eyes

Hi guys, this is my first fanfic and I'm not sure how good it is. I did my best and I figured changing the point of view would add a little more depth. I'd appreciate reviews. Thanks so much.

CHAPTER ONE

In this world, this new and terrifying place, Violet found peace. There was none of the moral guidelines or rules that had stifled her before. Chaos reigned, and Violet was in her element. She wasn't crazy. She wasn't insane or bloodthirsty. She was a clinical psychopath, diagnosed at age thirteen. Unfeeling, selfish and angry. So a world full of infected, mindless creatures with an insatiable longing for flesh was Violets' dream come true.

She was incredibly intelligent. Violet quickly learned all about the special infected, what their triggers were, and how to avoid them. Not that she went out of her way to avoid them. Violet always appreciated a good challenge, and these instinctual beasts were the ultimate game of Russian roulette. She was particularly fond of the witch. So much like her, so manipulative and so, so deadly. They baited in survivors with their plaintive wails, drawing them in close before slaughtering them mercilessly. Violet would often smirk to herself as she made these comparisons. While she had never murdered anyone, in the pre infection days Violet made a living by relieving men of their money in various manipulative ways.

She was beautiful, a lovely little narcissist. Long auburn hair, emerald eyes and an adorably petite figure added to this twenty three year olds dangerous appeal. She looked fragile, innocent and vulnerable. She was none of these. With a veteran for a father and a streetwise mother, Violet knew how to fight, and how to handle a gun. She was the perfect picture of upper class. Well, she had been. Up until the day she met Vincent.

Vincent wasn't his real name. Violet had no idea what his real name was, nor did she care. Hunters didn't speak so she hadn't bothered to ask. At first, she thought he was just doing a very bad job of tracking her and would soon make a move to attack. He didn't. Instead, he followed her. After the first week, he didn't even bother to conceal himself. He just followed, and watched. He did nothing to hinder her progress nor did he assist her when she was attacked by his Common brethren. He just observed her and grew accustomed to her odd ways. His indifference was met with hers and they coexisted in an unusual way.

He was aware she would leave partial cans of food out for the other Hunters to find. He was also aware she used these cans as bait and slaughtered his brothers quickly and quietly. He never approached the cans. He sensed their familiarity would mean nothing if he fell victim to her ruse. When killing his brethren Violet had a certain look on her face, an odd gleam in her eyes. This gave Vincent the distinct impression that when this small human had that look about her, she was more deadly than even The Weeping One.

Violet watched Vincent observe her again. His face was always hidden by a hood so she could never read his face to see what he was thinking but she imagined it wasn't much. These beasts were stupid. She had always thought she was better than everyone else and she heartily believed that people hadn't changed much post infection. She saw little difference between the common infected and the mindless drones that paced the city streets before the infection had taken hold.

Despite her best efforts to avoid them, Violet occasionally came across others who were uninfected. She had nothing to offer them but disdain and indifference. No she didn't want to join up with them and no she didn't have any supplies to spare. Violet had never needed anyone and nothing had changed is the post-apocalyptic hell she called home.

Violet came across a very ragged and very tired group of survivors eight weeks after the infection hit. They were all early twenties and she knew just by looking at them they wouldn't be alive very much longer. They looked jumpy and squeamish. And the pregnant girl was prone to hysterics, which Violet absolutely detested.

The first time she threw one of her fits Violet was alarmed into thinking she had gone into labor, which she looked ready to do at any given moment. But apparently she just was upset. So Violet quickly and coldly reminded her that if she didn't shut up zombies would be munching on her and her fetus. The girl stared at her in disgust and horror, but went silent. Violet sent them on their way and watched them go with a sense of satisfaction.

For the first time in weeks Vincent disappeared. She wasn't concerned. Just aware that he was missing. She was curious where he had gone to. Perhaps Hunters grouped together like a pack of wolves. Taking out an entire pack would be an amazing challenge and Violet mused to herself that maybe she should be observing her shadow as thoroughly as he observes her.

It took six days for him to return. By the way he was moving it looked as if he had been injured in his absence. He was walking upright, just hunched over. One of his arms appeared immobile and she wondered what had happened to him. She laughed at herself when she realized she was taking more interest in this beast than she had ever taken in a functioning human being. Growing soft was not acceptable. She mentally commanded herself to snap out of it. This was NOT the place to lose face.

Vincent had no idea what he was doing. This was so wrong and every fiber in him screamed in opposition. Yet here he was, hunched over moving awkwardly on two feet desperately trying to return to the human he loved to observe. Food was food but instinct was deceiving him into believing food wasn't food. When he found her he could have purred with delight. His burden would be relieved soon and he could go back to hunting. He needed food. Real food that didn't reek of filth and bring up foggy images that hurt his head.