✯ E V E L Y N ✯

Die.

Why did Jesse choose you?

Is it true you murdered your twin brother?

Did you like the poems I wrote?

You're nothing but an ugly bitch who can't do anything but spread her legs for random guys.

Whore.

Slut.

I switch off my phone, shoving it to the bottom of my bag.

∞

The urge to drop dead is so overwhelming. I want to die. I want someone to blow me up. I want to drown myself. I want to shoot myself in the chest. I want to starve to death. I want to lie on a train track and get hit at the highest speed. I want to jump in front of a moving bus. I want to jump off a cliff and plummet to my death.

I want to die.

I found a dead bird in my locker this morning. I opened my locker and there it was. It was in a bag, but it did nothing to disguise the rotten smell. I tossed it in the nearest bin - not a smart move but I had to dispose of it - and threw up in the girls' restroom. There were only a few people in the locker room but they laughed, and I guess everyone knows by now.

Jesse was there, and he watched from afar with Allen by his side. I could feel Allen's sinister gaze on me, and I think that's what triggered me the most.

I snap my journal shut, slipping it under my Trig books. The teacher walks past, and I scribble something random to make it seem as if I'm working. There's a light murmur of voices around the room, and the teacher whose name I can never remember sits back in her seat, turning to bury her nose in a math book.

My nails drag across the surface of my skin, tracing over the scars that decorate the length of my arm like bracelets. Ever since I first started cutting I've made it a point of wearing long sleeved tops or multiple wristbands to cover up the scars.

I need to do something to relieve the persistent feeling to cut my skin. My heart rate is accelerated, and I constantly feel like I can't breathe when I can. I dig my nails into my skin and run them downwards. I wish my nails were sharper to draw blood. It only leaves red marks on my skin.

I continue doing this until the bell rings for my next class. It feels as if I'm walking in a dream, everything foggy and unclear as I go through the halls. I can see people glancing at me, but I don't pay them any mind. I just need to get to my next class.

"Evelyn!" I turn and see the new Guidance Counselor - Cerys Drew who prefers to be called by her first name - walking towards me, her flaming red hair able to be seen in the crowd. People make way for her, seeing as she's a teacher, but they also narrow their eyes at me. A rumor is going to spark from this, I can tell.

"Could I speak to you in my office?" I know it's not a question; more of a kind command.

I follow her to her office which is a few classrooms away from my next class. I can't help feeling nervous - I've never been late to a class, ever, mainly because the prospect of walking into class during a lecture with thirty pairs of eyes watching you is scary.

She opens the door, allowing me to go in first, and closes the door. I've never actually been to her office before. It's nice; lovely artwork hangs on the cream-colored walls, and there's a huge window facing the nicely kept school gardens at the back. The window is slightly ajar, letting in some cool air.

Cerys gestures for me to sit down in a padded chair, and I do. I feel out of place in my dark top, skinny jeans and boots. I'm like a black void in this colorful, bright room, ready to suck the life out of everything in my path.

The guidance counselor puts on her stylish glasses, absently pushing back a lock of her red hair. "Okay, I'm sorry to take you before your class but it's important," she tells me, spreading a bunch of papers on her desk.

I can feel my heart thrashing in my chest even though I haven't done anything wrong. I want to say something - ask what this is about - but the words don't leave my mouth.

Cerys looks up at me, a faint smile on her face. "Every year before school ends, we do a check of every student's records, just to make sure everything is in place. I did a quick check of yours, and I found out that . . . " she trails off, grabbing a sheet with her writing on it, and holds it out in front of me. "You've missed a lot of days this past year. Actually, you've missed a lot of days in your high school years.

"Now, as one of the guidance counselors of the school, that concerns me. Is there anything going on at home?"

All the tension in my shoulders leave, and I'm so close to letting out a relieved laugh. But the look on her face is serious. "No, there's nothing happening," I tell her earnestly, sitting on my hands.

She nods a little. "Great. If there is something going on at home then feel free to talk to me anytime. In the meantime—" She holds up a sheet that has a bunch of numbers on it. "—students are required to attend high school for 720 days, and you've attended for 394 days. Well. You haven't gone through your senior year so you've attended 394 out of 540. This year alone you've attended 94 out of 180 days.

"Evelyn." Cerys sighs, rubbing the bridge of her nose. I just blink back at her, wondering why it's such a big deal for me to have missed a couple of school days. "If you miss any more days you'll have to repeat this year. Actually, at this rate, it's a must that you repeat the year because you won't have enough credit to go on."

Her words are like ice water dumped over my head. I gape at her, my eyes wide with disbelief. Repeat the year?! "Wh-wha—why?!"

"Rules are rules, Evelyn. Sometimes the may not be fair but they're enforced for students' protection." Cerys suddenly leans forward, arms propped on her desk. "If you don't show up to school until the last day of it then the school council will intervene, send you to court, and no doubt they'll go prying into things that aren't their business."

She holds a bitter look that makes me wonder what's going on in her brain. But I just plaster a smile on my face and nod. "O-okay." Court?

With the way the bullying is going, I guarantee, these next few days I'll attend roll call then leave school early. Cerys smiles happily, pushing her glasses off her face and onto her stack of books. "I know this isn't very professional, but I could . . . edit your file. Make it seem like you've missed fewer days than you have. I'm in charge of students' files, so it shouldn't be hard. Oh!" She checked her watch. "You're already late by ten minutes. You can just prepare for your next class; I'll tell Symone—Ms. Healy that I was talking to you."

She'd do edit my file for me? Isn't that illegal? "Thanks so much." I get up from my seat, grabbing my bag, and I'm on my way toward the door when she calls my name.

I turn around. "If there is anything going on - not only home-related - then don't hesitate to come to me. My door's always open," Cerys says, sympathy filling her tone.

I stare back for a split second, unblinking before I nod. "Sure, I will." She waves me away, and I leave the room as quickly as I had entered.

As I'm walking the empty halls towards the library - to wait for my next class which starts in half an hour - I realize one thing: she knows.

But why the fuck isn't she doing anything about it?

∞

This is it.

I stop outside the red door with the numbers 128 in gold lettering. My palms are clammy, cheeks flushed and heart exploding in my chest. My finger hovers over the doorbell before I just knock, twice, and I briefly contemplate running away. No, I tell myself firmly, taking in a deep breath. I need to do this. If I don't then I'll never be able to.

There are faint footsteps towards the door, the click of an unlatched lock and the second it's pulled open my heart lifts and sinks at the same time.

Lio stands in front of me, holding a tired, broken mien. She's got purple smears under her eyes, her usually dewy skin now pale and almost gray. Her hair is in a knotted mess on her head, a black silk kimono wrapped loosely around her body.

Her eyes are unfocused, but once they land on me, they widen with shock and fear, before she slams the door in my face.

I admit I expected this, but it doesn't make it hurt any less. Inhale deeply, exhale deeply. I knock again, and there's no movement behind the door. But I know she's behind there. Listening, waiting for me to leave.

I'll never leave.

"So, um, it's been a while since we've last talked. Eleven days, seventeen hours and around twenty-three minutes, give or take a few. I-I know you don't want to see me for whatever reason, but—but I just need to talk to you. Face-to-face," I murmur from behind the door, leaning my frame against the door. Nothing. "Please, Lio."

There's a ten-second silence before the door creaks open, and Lio casts her gaze down to her bare feet. She doesn't say a word as she steps aside to let me in, and I give her a grateful smile that hopefully hides my pain.

Her flat is lovely. That's pretty much all I can say without seeming too fake. Some of her walls are lovely rich colors like boysenberry red and royal blue, while others are off-whites and cream. I'm halfway through looking around and admiring the place when I realize what I came to do.

"You've got a gorgeous place," I say softly as I turn to Lio. She's standing near the closed door with her arms folded across her chest defensively. A flicker of a smile appears on her face before she bites her lip.

"Would you like a drink?" So formal. She doesn't wait for me to answer; instead, she turns around to walk into the expansive kitchen. Her elbow accidentally knocks a book to the ground, and she bends over to retrieve it. I'm about to look around a little more when the back of her kimono-style dressing gown slips, and my breath hitches in my throat.

Scars. Dozens of them running down her skin, from the nape of her neck and downwards until the dressing gown hides them.

But it isn't the scars that draw my eyes in. It's her back itself.

I can see her tailbone clearly as well as the back of her ribs. Her skin is stretched tight over her coccyx, the prominent bone almost splitting her skin in half. Her shoulder blades are so grotesquely defined that my heart lurches at the sight.

She's . . .

My mind is static and I don't know what to say. "Lio . . . your back . . . are you—?"

"It's a simple question, Evelyn. Do you want something to drink?" She doesn't move a muscle, her bony back facing me. I try swallowing the hard lump in my throat, a wave of emotions trying to drown me.

"Water is fine, thanks," I whisper, and she shifts the dressing gown back in place before grabbing a glass, putting ice into it and pouring water.

As she hands me the drink our eyes connect, and I see all the emotions in her dull orbs. Anger, love, resentment, hope, anguish . . . All those emotions caused by my presence. I take the drink without our fingers coming in contact, tentatively taking a sip. It's cold, refreshing, and just the thing I need.

Lio leans herself against the kitchen counter, her lips pursed and eyes boring a hole into the tiles. "You said you wanted to talk. So talk."

I stand awkwardly opposite her, rubbing my hand over my arm. My bag on my back feels like it contains bricks, and I shift my weight. "Um, you've been avoiding me these last few days. I-I'm not exactly sure why—"

"You're not exactly sure why?" she interrupts with a look of disdain, the corners of her lips turning down. Upon seeing my clueless face she lets out a humorless laugh. "Wow, you're even dumber than I thought you were."

I push aside all the hurt I'm feeling. Of course, she's going to come at me at full force. She's mad, and she needs to let it out. She needs to let it out on me, because I've caused her so much misery, and I deserve everything coming for me.

"You slept with Jesse," Lio all but spits out, a pained expression slicing through her sharp features.

"Y-yeah, I know I did, but what has this got to do with yo—"

"You don't get it do you?" Her voice has raised the slightest bit in volume, anger evident in her tone. It rolls off her in waves. "I care about you, Evelyn."

I'm struck by her statement, but I'm quick to reciprocate. "I care about you too, Lio. I care about your feelings, your health, all of you."

"Not in that way." Her lips twitch as she visibly stops herself from bursting into tears, gnawing at her bottom lip. She drops her fierce gaze to stare at her feet, her voice merely a whisper, "I love you."

Time manages to slow down. My heart feels like it's stopped in my chest. My whole body is frozen on the spot, my mind numb from what she just said. I can't find the energy to drag oxygen into my lungs, or blink.

"Wh-what did—"

"I love you. There, I said it. By the way, if you cared about my feelings you wouldn't have done what you did. And my health is none of your concern." Lio clenches her jaw, narrowed eyes cutting into mine with complete and utter sadness.

"Lio . . . your health is my concern. You are my concern," I argue back, finally finding my voice.

"If I was your concern then you wouldn't have ripped my heart out and stamped on it!" she fires back. Her voice is strained with pain and the effort of trying to keep her emotions in check.

The walls feel like they're closing in on me, and I can't shake the feeling of claustrophobia and general nausea about the situation. "Some people make mistakes," I try to justify myself, but no amount of words will erase what I did. I fucked up, I hurt her badly. I hurt myself badly.

"Like your parents! You should never have been brought into this world. You're a mean, selfish person. I should never have laid eyes on you. I should never have fallen for you! The only thing you know to do is mess around with people's emotions," she shoots at me, and I take a staggering step backward like I've been physically wounded.

I'm fighting tears, clenching and unclenching my fists and gripping the glass of water in an attempt to calm myself down. "I'm sorr—"

She holds up a dainty hand, and I shut up almost immediately. "Saying sorry doesn't change anything, Evelyn. God, are you even gay?"

I feel like I've been slapped across the face. My stomach lurches at the word, and I fail to compose myself. A tear drops down my cheek, but Lio just stares back at me fiercely.

"I-I don't know."

She scoffs, rolling her eyes at my reply. My hand is turning ice cold from the drink, sending shivers racing down my spine. "You don't know. Classic. Let me ask you this: did you feel something when you had sex with Jesse?"

My face crumples, and I'm so close to bursting into tears. "Lio . . . " Something in the look she gives me tells me I should answer the question, and my breathing is uneven as I recall the events of that night. "Y-yeah—"

My head falls back against the pillow as I taste champagne on his lips. His scent is intoxicating, so divine and delicious and distracting that I almost forget what we're doing.

Almost.

My hands cup his cheeks as he deepens the kiss, my unzipped dress the last thing on my mind. The thought of whether what we're doing is a good or bad idea is fleeting, and soon I find him on top of me, fingers brushing back strands of hair that threaten to block my view of him.

The dim red light falls onto the contours of his face as he pulls back, lightly placing a kiss on my lips. My body is tingly all over, and I don't have the decency to feel embarrassed about my dress slipping. I know where this will lead to. The walls around my heart are being knocked down with soft gazes from him, my whole being preparing for the moment.

Something tangible shifts in the air when he places his hands on either side of me, leaning forward slightly. His eyes don't wander from mine. "Happy birthday, beautiful," he whispers before his lips trail kisses along my throat.

And that's when I felt something. I felt us. Not just the beautiful feel of him inside of me. Not just my hair tickling my skin. But us. I felt a connection between us. Maybe I'd felt it for a long time, but I was just too scared to open myself to the possibility of something more than friendship.

"And—" Lio visibly swallows. "—did you feel something when you kissed me?"

My first instinct is to say yes. But I rethink it. I know for a fact I felt something that time; her hands gripping my hips, her kisses on my neck and teeth biting my lip. I felt something. I felt something. I felt something. Me of all people.

I try not to think about Him, try not to think about how disgusted he is with me right now. Dr. Paige's words come to mind. "You're human, and frankly you have every right to look at whoever you want. It doesn't matter if you like guys or girls."

If that's so, then why do I feel more natural and less sinful when I'm around guys than when I'm around girls? Ever since that Valentine's Day, I haven't been able to look at a female the same way. I've compared the girls at my school to Lio. I always do, unconsciously. Unaware of what I'm doing. It's as if I'm trying to find a replacement for her. Trying to fill in the female-sized gap.

My thoughts come and linger in the second that I'm quiet, and I can't help the sob that escapes my throat. "I don't know," I whimper, brushing away tears from my eyes. "Lio . . . "

Lio has to drag her eyes downwards as she tries to hide her tears, and my chest constricts at the sight of her in so much emotional pain. "No, I see how it is."

"But you don't understand. I'm so confused about my emotions tha—"

A room to the side opens, revealing a little bleary-eyed girl. Ari. Her hair is messed up and she looks like she just woke up from sleeping. "Cali?" she yawns, blinking her big blue eyes at us. "Evely—!"

"Get back in the room, Ari," Lio commands, not tearing her eyes from me once.

"But I'm not tir—"

"Goddammit, I said get back in!"

Ari's face crumples at her sister's outburst but she gets back in, closing the door behind her.

There's silence before Lio speaks again. "You should have sorted out your emotions before you fucking kissed me! You should have sorted them out before you slept with Jesse!" Lio hisses at me, her cheeks blotchy and eyes rimmed with dark smudging eyeliner that streaks the back of her hand.

"I'm trying to figure them out now!" I retort, dragging a hand through my hair and setting the glass behind me on the kitchen table.

"Well, try harder!"

Her scream triggers something within me, and I rip open my bag to pull out a notebook. "I am trying, whether you want to believe it or not. I've read this book twice - I read a bit of it every night before I slept. I've been trying to figure out what's wrong with you—"

Her eyes hone in on her notebook, her face unnaturally pale even though I know she knew I had it all along. She wanted me to read it. She stuffed it into my bag. "There's nothing wrong with me! And this isn't about me, this is about yo—"

"Well too fucking bad, because now it's about you," I blurt out, adrenaline and anger running through my veins. I'm feeling lightheaded and well-grounded at the same time. "I have been going crazy reading this book you gave me. But now that I put together the pieces . . . you're not lactose-intolerant. You're not allergic to nuts. I know for a fact because that day you showed up high at my house you ate peanuts.

"The lies, the excuses, your size dropping with every passing month . . . 

"You're anorexic, aren't you?" My voice is unnaturally soft, and that scares the hell out of both of us.

I finally look at her. Take a good look at her. I drink in her sharp cheekbones, her small face, her wide yet weary bloodshot eyes, the ashen tint to her skin. She looks sick. Very sick.

"No need to pity a fat, ugly pig like me," Lio replies with less anger than before.

I'm appalled that she views herself that way. "You're not fat, Lio. You're beautiful and amazing the way you are."

"But I'm not skinny, right?" Her voice breaks a little, and she lets herself break down to tears, covering her face with her hands as her shoulders shake. I'm crying as well. The urge to just hold her, hold her in my arms, is unbearably strong, and before we both know it, my arms are around her and she's falling into my embrace. Her ribcage digs into me, her shoulder blades sharp as ice against my skin.

"No." She suddenly pushes me away, moving so she's far away from me. She ignores the hurt look on my face as well as the eyeliner streaks on her face. "I don't need your hugs or your sympathy. I don't need you. I don't need anyone."

"Lio, I just want to help you. You're too skinny—"

"You can never be too skinny." She looks at me as if I've grown three heads while I give her the same look. Doesn't she see herself in the mirror? She's wasting away. She's no longer toned and curvy; she's all angles and stick-thin limbs.

She's not the Calliope I used to know.

"And I don't want any help whatsoever. You should focus on yourself and not me. You're the one who fucked things up. You're the one who keeps fucking things up. And you're the one who will always fuck things up."

"I'm so fucking tired of you," I outburst loudly, and the room falls silent. There's just so many thoughts, and hurt, and feelings inside me that need to get out one way or another. "You're just a self-centered, self-absorbed and attention seeking shit who doesn't give two fucks about other people. You play with them. You play your stupid mind games, making one person believe something and making the next believe another. Don't, even for a second, think I don't know about you and Jesse's hookup relationship because I know everything.

"And I don't see why you're putting the blame on me. You fucking kissed me. Excuse me if I'm not automatically gay after a bloody kiss. I'm trying to pull myself together and sort these things out.

"You know what I'm going through. You saw what they did. What they're doing. But you don't even know the half of it," I hiss, my fingernails digging into the leather of the book as I fight to control myself. My emotions are haywire, my mind a mess. A pounding headache drills like a jackhammer at my temples, but I ignore the splitting pain.

Lio stares blankly - almost robotically - at me, her thin arms crossed over her chest. Tears are running down her face but it seems as if she doesn't notice. "You don't know what I'm going through." Her voice is void of emotion. She sounds calm but her face shows the pain tearing up her insides like it's doing to mine.

"Because you never let me in," I counter back. "Lio, please. We're broken, we both know it. We're the same."

"We are not the same. I guess that shows opposites attract," she says.

"Fuck that. Fuck all sayings. Fuck all labels. Fuck everything." I take two steps forward, my voice taking on a pleading tone. "We can work, you and I. I know we can. We did, not so long ago."

"So basically what you're saying is that you've turned from homophobic cunt to gay girl begging for me to forgive you," she deadpans.

"No. What I'm saying is," I pause, cursing myself, everything and everyone and even Him, "I love you."

☾A L I Q U I S☽

Evelyn's insides are twisting as the words flow from her lips. She wipes away the tears on her face, bracing herself for Calliope's reaction.

"I thought we were over the lying part of this conversation," Calliope says, her voice as disjointed from her body as her mind is. Her heart is aching in the worst way possible at Evelyn, at the way Evelyn speaks to her, at the way Evelyn lies to her, at the way Evelyn doesn't love her back as much as she does.

"I'm not lying!" Evelyn's voice rises, but she still isn't heard. The only words in Calliope's ears are words of malice and anger and deceit and jealousy, and they spiral around her, enough to make her dizzy.

"A few moments ago you said you didn't know if you felt anything when we kissed, and now you're telling me you love me? Do I look like a stupid person to you? You're pathetic, Evelyn, absolutely pathetic."

And Evelyn snaps.

"You know what? Fuck you. I'm doing the best I fucking can and all you can do is mock me and insult me. Well, I'm done. I'm done with you and everyone. I finally get the guts to admit how I feel and you brush me off like that. Sorry if I'm not as open about it as you are. Some of us don't like to flaunt that sort of thing,"

She can see Calliope wants to say something, but she continues, "It's over. Whatever was between me and you. Whatever was between me and Jesse. It's all over. So don't you worry your pretty little head about me fucking someone while you mope over me not reciprocating your feelings while you also fuck that person behind my back, and then push me away the second I open up."

Evelyn pulls up her, flashing her prominent cutting scars at Calliope. Calliope's face pales at the sight, not expecting to see the marks on her flawless skin. "I self-harm. Well, self-harmed. Last time I did so was almost a month ago. Jesse was with me the whole time, comforting me. Unlike you, Jesse is wonderful and caring—"

"Well, where the fuck is Jesse now, huh?" Calliope snaps back, digging her nails into her arms. "He was just playing with you. Sacrificing your life for his mom's. Everyone knows that."

"Where the hell were you that day? Where the hell were you when I was dying? Where the hell were you ever? At least he was there when I needed him the most, even if it was an act. I'd rather someone pretend they care for me rather than someone saying they do and then treating me like utter shit the next second. I don't know what you see in the mirror. But all I see is some sad excuse for a girl who can't help being naïve and selfish enough to starve herself when there are other people out there without food—"

"It's not as easy as that!" Calliope screeches, dragging her hands in her hair and yanking in frustration.

She narrowly dodges the book Evelyn throws at her, not flinching when the glass that once had water smashes on the ground. Pages flutter out of the book while glass litters the tiles, sprinkling near Calliope's bare feet. "No, it's not, but it can be. All you have to do is put the food in your mouth. But you're a dumb bitch, and you deserve to be alone for the rest of your life," Evelyn chokes out.

She makes her way to leave the place, her breathing uneven. "Psycho bitch," Calliope yells at her.

"Fuck you." Evelyn sticks her middle finger at Calliope as she walks away, fingers clasping around the handle of the door.

"I hope you rot in hell."

Evelyn smiles at Calliope's malicious wish, eyes glazed over with sadness and euphoria. "Don't worry, darling," she blurts out before she slams out of the flat.

∞

"I'm going to miss you so much," Sigrid - Evelyn's relative whom she's unsure if she's her godmother - admits in a sad voice. She clings tightly to the dark-haired girl, all but squeezing the life out of her.

"I'm going to miss you too, Sigrid," Evelyn mopes, grabbing the chance to pull back when the other woman's grip slackens. "Especially your waffles. You better ship them over here in bulk someday."

Sigrid giggles and exchanges heartfelt words of sadness before she moves on to chat Eva's ear off. Evelyn watches the scene unfold in front of her, a little dazed at the fact that her relatives are leaving so soon. It has been less than two weeks. She hadn't even known time flew by so quickly. And she doesn't know when she'll next see them, seeing as they'll be on the other side of the world.

"I can't believe it's been twelve days," Amora sighs, a sad pout on her lips. Her eyes aren't rimmed with kohl eyeliner today; they're left natural.

"Neither can I." Evelyn watches with a sense of sadness as the mismatched group disperse around the front yard, saying their last goodbyes. "I had a great time though."

"Me too." Amora smiles, but it doesn't fully reach her eyes. Her gaze is fixated on the girl before her, baggy clothes concealing her body from view. "I would say see you later, but there's a chance I won't see you until I'm in my forties."

"Oh, no." Evelyn shakes her head defiantly, distaste washing over her features. "That's way too long."

"Agreed." Amora is quiet for a moment while Evelyn watches a butterfly breeze through the air in the distance. "Hey, that girl that got those notes and was getting bullied . . . could you tell her she's amazing and strong?"

Evelyn's heart almost stops in her chest and she tilts her head to face Amora, a brief shocked expression on her face. "Y-yeah, sure," she breathes out, her voice suddenly hoarse.

Amora gives her a look that almost makes Evelyn cry, her eyes looking past her layers of self-disgust and depression and deep into her soul. "She deserves a love bigger than the world. And if someone isn't willing to give her that much love, then they're not worth it. Never settle for less."

And with that, she walks away.