✯ E V E L Y N ✯

Red lips.

Smudged eyeliner.

Tear-stained cheeks.

I can't hear what Villette is saying; I'm too far away. I stay frozen at my locker, fingers wrapped around my combination lock as I prepare to pull it open. Jesse is beside me, talking about something I couldn't care less about. Not when the scene is unfolding less than ten feet away from me.

Villette's eyes narrow as she hisses in Lio's ear, her hand gripping Lio's forearm. I can see the grip Villette has on her is tight. Her sharp nails are digging into her skin, and Lio's wincing in pain but holding her ground. Around them, everyone goes about their business. They don't even notice the exchange. No one notices.

No one but me.

The words fat and slut and never want you float in the air, but Jesse's name catches my attention. His voice makes me flinch, and I yank open my locker, stuffing my books inside. "—Anyways, come if you want, and bring a friend - preferably a girl," he finishes, and he casts me a suggestive look. My head is too full of cotton and whirring thoughts that I barely hear him.

"Yeah, sure . . . " I answer distractedly. I turn around to see Villette grinning at Lio before she forcefully bumps her shoulder into the blond and walks away. Lio is left standing there, wiping away the tears that keep falling down her cheeks. My heart aches for her, and I'm about to walk over when Jesse proceeds to drag me towards our European History class.

And, as I throw one last glance in Lio's direction, her red-rimmed, tear-filled eyes latch onto mine. They're no longer beautiful and light eyes; they're dull, lifeless and swirling with sadness. I know she knows I saw the exchange between her and Villette. I can see the disappointment clear as day on her face. I'm her friend. I'm supposed to defend her. I'm supposed to go and comfort her and not question anything. I should've gone to stand up for her. And yet I couldn't do any of those things.

And when she turns, I'm stuck staring at the image of a girl with blotchy cheeks until we disappear from each other's sight.

∞

♚ J E S S E ♚

She looks so out of place.

In a loose sweatshirt, skinny jeans and her hair up in a messy ponytail, she doesn't fit in amongst the miniskirt-wearing sluts around us.

And yet to me - even at her worst, as she often describes it - she still looks better than everyone else.

Evelyn's eyes travel around the room, nose scrunched in distaste at the number of people grinding and doing drugs in dark corners. "Wow, this really is . . . something," she finally says, having to raise her voice over the music.

I laugh, a little tipsy but still sober enough to be able to sling an arm around her shoulder. "It is, isn't it? My favorite place to be," I reply, nodding at the guy who threw this party. Typical story - parents aren't home, he's the rich loner kid who'd do anything to get attention from the populars as we're referred to, he thought it'd be a great idea to let people abuse the free beer and smash stuff. After this party I'm sure the bullying will stop for about three days until it kicks back up worse than ever.

I'm not down with bullying: I think it's sick that you have to inflict your pain on someone else. But what can you do when it's being done to someone else? Obviously going to a teacher or parent is a no-no. Trying to intervene is a social suicide - if you were once someone who everyone gave a damn about then you were nothing but shit under their shoes.

I shake my head to clear it, offering Evelyn a drink of my beer. She declines, cringing as a couple makes out intensely beside her. "When I said it's really something I meant it's definitely not what I expected," she answers. She slips her hand into mine and pulls us towards a less crowded part of the room. "And when I say it's not what I expected, I say that in a bad way."

"Oh c'mon Evelyn, have some fun." I take a swig from my drink, nudging Evelyn with my hip. She gives me a tentative smile, rubbing her arm as she surveys the scene. "Remember the deal: you have fun here and you get to drag me wherever you want."

Even over a Drake song, I hear her sigh, and she grabs the cold beer from my hand, boldly taking a deep gulp. I hoot encouragingly. She grimaces, shuddering as she swallows it and shoves it back into my hand.

"That is the most disgusting thing I've ever tasted," Evelyn rebukes, stunned as I finish off the bottle. "Oh my God, what is that smell? Now I know what the inside of a sex dungeon smells like."

I chuckle and sloppily kiss her cheek, wrapping an arm around her waist. The alcohol and flashing lights make me stumble as I ditch the empty bottle, and we make our way to the center of the room. We get jostled by drunk teens and giggling girls, but I still grab both of her hands and swing her around.

"Let's dance," I yell over the thumping bass, and in the flashing multicolored lights I see her shake her head, letting out a quiet laugh as she pulls away.

"No, I don't dance."

I pout, "Aw, c'mon Evelyn. One song."

She rubs her neck, almost getting trampled by some guy wandering around. Her nose wrinkles at the smell of weed, and coughs before speaking again. "No, you—you go ahead, I'll just get myself a drink," she shouts, flashing me an easy smile.

I can tell the little alcohol she had is making her relax. "This isn't you trying to get out of fun and compromise the deal, is it?"

"No, it's me not wanting to embarrass you with my awful dancing skills. I've got two left feet," she giggles. She gives me a small wave and weaves her way through the thick crowd to the kitchen. I watch her slim hips swaying to avoid contact with everyone else before I turn back around and dance with a redhead.

∞

✯ E V E L Y N ✯

I don't know why the fuck I even agreed to come here.

But obviously Jesse held it over my head, effectively manipulating me into being a teenager for once and letting loose. Of course, I had the opportunity to refuse to even step foot in this neighborhood. I know how to blackmail Jesse; over the last month and a half, I've learned what his weaknesses are, what makes him tick. But, for some reasons that I am not aware of, I agreed without hesitation.

Probably because I want to leave all my shit behind and focus on living it up for just once in my life.

I eventually find my way to the kitchen, which isn't as big as the other rooms of the house but is still pretty large. Unlike the main rooms where people are making out and dancing, it's dimly lit with an island at the center. It's easier to see here, and I plop myself at the island, a few stools away from some tall guy who's chatting with a guy on his right.

"Uh, just give me something strong but not too strong," I tell the 'bartender' - a sixteen-year-old with a shit-ton of tattoos. He gives me a nice smile - totally not what I was expecting - and gets to work mixing a drink for me.

"A Caribou Lou. Rum, pineapple juice and Malibu," he tells me with a dimply grin. "Not so strong, but it's best if you drink in small amounts."

"Thanks." He slides the drink over before moving on to serve someone else.

I lift the glass to my nose and sniff, inhaling the distinct scent of pineapples. Taking a sip, I can feel eyes on me, and out of the corner of my eye I see a guy staring at me. I shrug off his gaze, slowly but surely finishing off my drink. My lips and throat burn after, as well as my chest, but it's a nice fuzzy feeling. Makes me warm inside.

"Enjoying your drink?" I turn at the sound of a masculine voice, facing a very good-looking blond who has an inquisitive look on his face.

I nod mutely, pointing to my empty glass. He calls over the bartender, telling him to get me another drink. "No, I don't need another drink—"

"C'mon, loosen up," the guy cajoles, and I bite my lip, complying. When my drink arrives I take a tiny sip, watching my pace. The guy slides onto the stool directly beside me, and I can smell cigarette smoke and his strong cologne. "So, you're Evelyn Winters, right?"

It surprises me that he knows who I am and does arouse suspicion within me but even so, I nod. He holds out his hand, a charming smile on his lips. "I'm Allen."

I've heard the name before but I don't remember where . . . The alcohol and persistent music cloud my thoughts, but I shake my head to clear it and shake his hand.

"Nice to meet you," I reply, and that's where it all begins.

∞

☾A L I Q U I S☽

"I'm back," Evelyn tells Allen airily as she slides back on her stool, shaking her hands to dry them off. "Gosh, the line for the bathroom was a nightmare. There was this couple hooking up in there, and I accidentally walked in on them! It was so—ugh."

Allen wrinkles his nose but laughs, his light blue eyes crinkling with amusement. "Fuck, that's disgusting," he comments, eyes landing on her drink. Evelyn's glazed eyes follow his, and despite being inebriated, she narrows her eyes. Did he spike my drink? she wonders, caution rising up within her. "Okay, don't get mad, but I've been drinking some of your drink since you left. I never knew Caribou Lou's are that good." Evelyn studies the glass, and sure enough, it's obvious that someone drank quite a bit.

Lies, I hiss to myself. He didn't drink any of it. He poured some away to make it seem like he took some. Nathaniel - the underage bartender - can even testify to that. He saw everything. And where is he? My eyes scan the kitchen, and I find him in a dark corner, sipping orange juice and watching the exchange between them. But of course he won't do anything. Who would, if they were bribed with an excessive amount of $2000?

Allen lifts up Evelyn's drink, taking the tiniest sip but puffing out his cheeks a little to make it seem like he drank a mouthful. He quickly swallows the liquid with a faux grimace. "Oh, that shit is strong."

"Mm, this is so good," Evelyn slurs, finishing off the rest of the alcohol, not noticing Allen's hand on her thigh. "Woah, my head is so sore . . . and the room is spinning . . . "

"Hey, let's go somewhere quiet," Allen suggests, dragging a hand through his hair before helping Evelyn up. A sappy smile forms on her lips at his warm hand in her cold one. He throws a daring look at Nathaniel who watches them. Nathaniel is frozen in place, eyes unblinking as Evelyn leaves the kitchen with Allen.

Evelyn doesn't know where he's taking her, but I do. She stumbles up the stairs, her giggles drowned out by the heavy music around the house. It isn't the biggest house - it's average with an average amount of rooms, but free-loaders will take what they can get. In this case, free alcohol and permission to hook up with the excuse of it being dark.

They enter a room, Allen fully sober while Evelyn is completely wasted. The door closes behind them, and Evelyn flops onto the bed, the scent of lavender invading her senses. "Is this better?" Allen asks her, and she nods, kicking off her ballet flats to get comfy. He stands over her at six feet three, emotions shifting about in his eyes as they turn a darker shade of blue.

He sits on his haunches in front of Evelyn, and within seconds his lips are on her neck, biting harshly at her skin. "Wha—hey, stop," Evelyn slurs, pressing her palms against his chest and trying to push him.

He swiftly climbs onto the bed, knees on either side of her as he straddles her, and that's when panic begins to kick in. "Allen, for fuck's sake, get off me." Her voice is faint, drowsy as the ketamine kicks in.

She gives him a weak shove and he barely budges. Instead, his hand slips under her sweatshirt to trace her flat torso, eliciting a squeak of surprise from Evelyn.

His hand clamps over her mouth, his fingers fumbling with the belt of his jeans. All Evelyn can hear are strange sounds, a high pitched wailing in her ears and heavy breathing.

"Since Jesse won't do it, I will," Allen mutters. The words drift and jumble up in Evelyn's ears, but a confused piece of her heart breaks.

Everything feels like a dream, her vision cloudy, her hearing distorted. Her right arm is paralyzed, unable to move.

She lets her eyes drift shut before she bites down hard on his hand, earning a series of profanities from Allen. "Let go of me!" she screams, catching him off-guard. She pushes aside her nausea before drawing her knees and kicking Allen square in the chest.

Allen falls back, hitting his head on the floor but he's up in less than five seconds. Five seconds in which Evelyn tries to get off the bed. Anger causes Allen to grab her throat, pressing her small frame into the bed as she struggles to breathe. He ignores the aching in his ribs and the tears sliding down her cheeks. I can hear his thoughts: Bitch. I'll fucking show her. She deserves to die.

Evelyn's choking, her cheeks turning purple as she struggles to find oxygen to fill her lungs. She slips in and out of consciousness as dark spots dance in her vision. Below them the party rages on, and Evelyn can't help letting out a hoarse cry.

And, in one last bid to save her, I send hope her way. When Allen's grip slackens, as he unzips his jeans, Evelyn throws up on his chest, and he immediately backs away from the smell of acidic food. The foul stench circles them, but Evelyn doesn't focus on the fact that her throat is sore as hell. She rolls over, a headache hitting her like a ton of bricks as she narrowly avoids the mess she made, and makes an escape for the door.

The words: "Come back you fucking whore!" echo in her mind as he tries to grab hold of her, but she's already gone. Half-falling down the stairs, staggering into the kitchen and washing her mouth out with a bottle of water. Her breaths come out in uneven spurts, the sobbing deep in her chest and uncontrollable. Nathaniel averts his gaze to the floor, self-loathing welling within him at the fact that he didn't do stop Allen. But also relief because she made it out relatively unharmed.

Evelyn slips out the back door, barefooted with her shirt torn, and makes her way out of the estate. The darkness presses against her eyelids as she walks blindly, the cold breeze sobering her. Her blood pressure is fast, the realization that she was almost raped causing her to fall to her knees in the middle of the sidewalk. Why? Why me? the voice in her head screams as she digs her palms into her eyes. Sobs convulse through her body.

She can't breathe. She can barely see where she's going. She can't stop crying. Her hands and knees are dusted with dirt, tiny stones embedded in her palms. Her heart rate keeps increasing; I can almost feel her heart. Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump. An endless cycle of fear and weariness and confusion that spills out with her tears.

And yet, as I stay hidden in the depths of the night, Evelyn continues walking. She gets up and stumbles her way forward. Walks.

She continues walking to the only person who would ever want to listen to her. She doesn't know where Jesse is, if he's worried about her or not.

But Allen? He's going to hell.

∞

✯ E V E L Y N ✯

I don't know what I'm doing here.

"Evelyn! What are you doing here, at this tim—" She notices my tears. "What's wrong? What happened?"

I stay silent, hugging myself as the wind picks up and blows over my numb cheeks. Dr. Paige quickly steps aside, ushering me into her house. The ever-growing ball of dread settles in my stomach as I realize I'm going to have to tell her what happened.

What did happen? My mind is foggy and everything is blurry. I don't even know how I got here. Since when did I know Dr. Paige's address? Why can't my right arm move? I try not to hyperventilate as all these questions give me a headache.

The interior of her house is classy, with neutral tones for the carpeted floors and regal pastels for the walls and furniture. She leads me into her living room, gently ushering me into a sitting position. She leaves the room, presumably to get something.

I perch on the edge of the sofa, shoulders slumped as I sit on my hands to heat them up. My earlier tears have dried but I can't stop shaking with fear. Why can't I remember?

Dr. Paige arrives with two cups. I quietly thank her for the mug of chamomile tea, letting my hands unfreeze before taking a sip. Dr. Paige sits down beside me.

"Well, I'm guessing you were at a party, if the alcohol on your breath is any indication," she says. She drinks her coffee before setting it on the coffee table in front of us. I can smell her cherry shampoo, and her scent soothes me.

I nod, my mind still fuzzy and heart beating crazily as the alcohol still lingers in my system. My chest is burning, my stomach a hollow pit, and my head feels like it's about to split open.

"Evelyn." I look up at the sound of Dr. Paige's hushed voice, her face swimming as my tears threaten to fall. Her hand in mine is the only thing stopping me from breaking. "Why did you come here at two in the morning?"

"I c-can't remember," I stammer, "I . . . M-my friend brought me th-there, to a party. And then . . . something happened, I think . . . " Hysteria fills my voice, salty water cascading down my cheeks. My arm is numb, I'm on the verge of an anxiety attack, and it takes five minutes of Dr. Paige's firm but consoling words to calm me down.

"And do you remember what happened at the party, Evelyn?" Her voice is so distant and yet so close.

I wipe my cheeks and watch her. Dr. Paige looks calm, an admirable feat considering I woke her up at 2am. Her hair is loose, falling past her shoulders in a wavy mess. There isn't an ounce of sleepiness in her tone or her face.

I can't break the spell. Her eyes bore into mine, mocha, and vermillion. She has the kindest eyes I have ever seen, and for the second time that night, I do something I will live to regret.

I kiss her.

I close my eyes. Press my mouth against hers. Taste her lips. I can't tell whose heart is racing. My hand lifts to cup her cheek, and I can taste her cherry-flavored lip balm. A sudden rush zips from my fingertips at the contact.

The urge to deepen the kiss is so strong, and I find my tongue slipping between her sweet lips. The seductive taste of coffee lingers in her mouth, and I can taste a sweet cream. The fingers of my right hand somehow tighten around hers while my fingers brush her soft jawline. Her breath hitches and that's when what I'm doing hits me. Hard.

The kiss doesn't last more than a few seconds. But it's long enough for me to pull away after realizing what I just did. I break the kiss, opening my eyes to see Dr. Paige staring at me in shock. I'm also shocked and disgusted with myself.

I'm crying again, my face screwing up with tears as I shove myself off the sofa and out of the sitting room. I can hear her footsteps as her slippers hit the floorboards, but I don't turn back. I open the front door and step out into the drizzling rain, droplets pricking my skin like millions of icicles. My name is being called behind me but that doesn't stop me from running away.

I head out of the neighborhood, my lungs burning and heart in my mouth every time headlights sweep over me. I don't know where Jesse is. I left my phone back at the party. I can't go back to ask Dr. Paige for a lift after what I did.

My head is pounding from crying so much, and I can't cry. I can only let quiet whimpers escape my lips. Luckily, though, Dr. Paige's neighborhood isn't far from Pacific Heights - only a twenty-minute walk from my house to hers. How do I know that?

And so, for those twenty minutes, I walk and try to remember. I can see flashes of a smile, a white powder on fingertips, a zipper.

I want to erase the images, block out the sounds of laughter and cruel words. There are holes in memory, but I can't help thinking that I deserved whatever happened.