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evangeline blackwood

"Morgan, I swear to fuc-"

"Ba, la, la, la, la."

"I'll rock your fu-"

"Bing bam, bing bam, bing bam." Morgan sings, the replica to an actual bell is too terrifying for me not to start laughing.

"Don't laugh at him, you'll make him want to do it more." Adonis whispers into my ear, his hand resting on the small of my back.

My body shakes with laughter at Morgan's offended expression, obviously upon hearing Dee's words.

"Right, I need to go speak to Ali about the Literature essay." I dismiss myself, walking away from them. My back feels cold without Adonis' touch. "I'll meet you at the truck in 10."

"Don't take too long, Darlin'. I'll miss you too much."

"Aw, love you too, Morgs."

Morgan's heartbreaking grin is the last thing I see before I walk into the classroom, I chuckle as I hear him cry out from Adonis' infamous neck smack.

---------

The sky is clear blue as I exit the building, the area was completely empty and silent. My hand unconsciously sneaks into my pocket and I pull out a small piece of paper.

Huh, Adonis must've sneaked another note into it before.

"What is the point of being alive if you don't at least try to do something remarkable?"

A grin embraces my face, the John Green quote sticking in my head as I stroll towards the student car park.

By chance, my eyes flicker up and I notice 4 people walking towards me.

My entire body freezes.

And that's when I know that the warning was never empty.

Standing rooted to my spot, my stare of them refuses to waver. I ain't going to show them that I'm scared, they don't deserve that satisfaction.

When I first met Logan, he was just a kid on the streets. He had a bad life and, at the time, I didn't. I wanted to make sure he was okay. I didn't turn my back on him when I saw him beat some kid when we were fourteen. I didn't turn my back on him when he admitted to stabbing someone when we were fifteen. I didn't turn my back on him when we were seventeen and he was crying in my arms over his first heartbreak.

And I refused to turn around and run as he stands in front of me.

They surround me, smirks littering their faces like razor sharp knives. Only Logan's and Mohammed's seem forced.

"C'mon, Logs. She's only a problem because of you, sort your fucking messes out." Karis sneers, crossing her arms around her chest almost in an accusatory manner. I attempt to avoid looking at them directly in their eyes, the image of my brothers bloody, frail body flashing through my mind.

Michael stays silent, with Mohammed by his side.

But I know he's staring at me, studying all my reactions.

Just like he would've done with Jonah. Before he put a blade into him.

There was so much blood, I swear I see it on the pavement whenever I walk past that spot.

They did that to him.

They killed him.

Logan is closer to me than them, one of his hands in his pocket. That's when I know then. When Michael Jacobsen puts out a hit on someone, it gets carried out. Normally by someone other than him.

I never judged Logan for his past, or for his associates. He wasn't with them when they killed Jonah and, despite him not knowing what they did to my brother, I thought he was done with that life.

But as his hand leaves his pocket and the metal glint of the blade reflects in the unusually bright sun, I know that this isn't him.

The Logan I know wouldn't do this.

People change.

His hand shakes and his fear-consumed eyes meet mine.

He doesn't want to do this. He doesn't want to. He doesn't want to.

But he has to, otherwise they'll hurt him.

I need to tell myself that. I need to believe that the Logan that I saw as family was not the same Logan that was directing a knife towards me.

"What are you waiting for?" Karis' eyebrow is raised, and her sharp glare is cutting into my skin.

If he doesn't do it, they will.

My mums can't lose another kid.

My dad can't.

Atlas can't.

Adrenaline curses through my body, my breathing speeds up almost dangerously.

"It's okay." I whisper, knowing that he could hear me but they couldn't. "It's okay, Logan. Just do it."

"They want me to hurt you." Almost as quiet as a mouse. His voice shakes, and his eyes begin to water.

"It's okay-"

"It isn't. I...I can't. I-" He cuts himself off, attempting to steady his own breathing.

If he doesn't do it, they'll kill me and him.

"Logan, I told you once that I'd always be there for you. I meant that." I swallow visibly, noticing his hands shaking from the corner of my eye. "Just do it."

My hand goes to my stomach, indirectly gesturing for him to do it there.

The water in his eyes begins to spill on his cheeks, "I can't. I can't. I can't. I can't."

"Wildgust, we've got another person to go see." Mo's voice cuts through. Karis is attempting to remove dirt (or blood) from under her nails, but Michael's stare is solely on me. He knows what this will do to Logan, he knows what it'll do to my family.

"I swear to fucking God, do it. Stop being a little bitch, you've done it before." Deep breaths, Evan. Keep breathing. "Lo, you're hurting me more dragging it out."

"I'm scared." He admits quietly.

"So am I." I try to soothe, "If...If out happens, look after Atlas and Adonis. Make sure my Mums and Dad are alright."

"You're not going to...You won't die, Evan." His voice breaks, and I swear I feel my heart shatter into a thousand pieces.

"I know." I don't know. "You made me a promise too, remember?" At his nod, I continue. "Make sure you keep it."

He doesn't verbally reply, instead attempting pathetically to steady his breathing.

"Stomach." I mumble, almost silently. His eyes divert to where my hand is and his grip on the knife tightened. "I know you don't want to do this but you have to." I get it, I do.

Or, at least, I'm trying to.

My glare flickers to Michael for a split second and I let the barrier in my eyes drop. All that anguish, all that wrath, all that pain. He can see it all.

Logan grips the knife tighter and goes to move forward when Michael's words halt all movement.

"Wait."

I hold my breath.

I've only heard his voice a number of times, but it still shocks me when I hear it. It isn't like anyone would picture. It isn't insanely deep and callous like my dreams made it out to be, like how it sounded those weeks after Jonah's death. It's normal, eerily normal.

"What was that look, Blackwood?" It's a rhetorical question, his final torment. The smirk on Michael's face sends shivers down my spine.

I keep my head up, "Don't worry about it."

"Let's not act as if your pride is more important than your safety." He says it calmly, as though he was just talking normally to a friend. But I could sense the threat in his words, I knew I was stepping on eggshells. "This doesn't have to go down the way you seem to think it will."

"If you're going to hurt me, let it happen while I'm still me." I face him head on, trying my absolute hardest not to look at Logan and the blade in his hand. "I ain't scared of you."

"I want to know your issue with me." Michael's brown eyes would've been the last thing Jonah seen before he died. "Yeah, I've made passing comments about your brother but Jonah and I never had any beef."

"Then why did you kill him?"

Everything freezes for that split second but nothing changes in his eyes- not shock, nor surprise. They're just cold and empty. I can't see how Mo, or Karis, or Logan are reacting.

"I didn't." No hesitation.

"I watched you do it." I breathe out, "I watched you walk out of an alleyway, speak to my brother and put a knife in his chest. You going to tell me that it happened different?"

"I didn't kill him." He repeats.

"You was wearing a blue Puma hoodie. It had blood all over it so you took it off and dumped it into one of the skips. Not even 5 minutes after you stabbed him, I went to that skip and I pulled it out. So I'm sure the police would agree with you, hm? You were wearing black Nikes and you were there with 2 people, both of them are right behind you."

"Logan." He grits out, "Finish it."

"You killed Jonah and now you're going to kill me the same way. Two deaths and God knows how many more." I turn my gaze onto Logan as I watch his eyes flicker between Michael and I. "If you stab me, you all better pray I'm dead because I'll fucking ruin all of you." I'm talking complete bullshit, I know that. But I can't stop. I'm angry and depressed and I just want all this pain to stop.

Michael looks me up and down, but his next words turn my eyes to ice. "Your brother gave up on you when I killed him. He didn't fight it, he didn't beg for his life, he didn't even mention his darling little sister who's going to follow him."

I don't care.

I just want to be with my brother.

"Why did you do it? Can you at least tell me that?"

All I see is a wry smile, "Because I could."

Logan takes a step forward, closing his eyes and digging the knife in and out of the area which I suggested.

"I'm so sorry." I hear him mumble as my knees give out.

At first, it felt like nothing. Just a punch to my stomach which wasn't unfamiliar to me. But then it spread. Like a continuous, piercing pain wrapping itself around my abdomen. My hand goes to the wound almost instinctively, the warm, crimson blood staining it. I stumble backwards, watching the gang run off as I fall to the ground.

I blink for a few seconds, attempting to keep my eyes open while taking deep breaths.

"EVA!" Adonis' voice cuts through the silence, and I feel his hands replace mine on my stomach. But it's too late.

Michael Jacobsen had ordered my fate. All these deaths...they all came back to people like him. People who believed they hold the secrets of earth in their hands because they 'decided' who got to live or die.

Logan did what he had to do, I always understood that. Everything he did in the past was just so he could survive. But this wasn't the same.

Someone's going to have to tell my Mum that another one of her kids is dead.

"Eva, wake up. Please."

I try to speak but it's as though there's a lump in my throat stopping me from opening my mouth.

I couldn't

See

I could feel it

The blood

On my stomach. On my hands.

Like a river.

Burning my skin.

Death.

Death is pulling me away from my home, from my family, from Adonis. Promising sweet nothings into my ears. Promising that I'll see Jonah again. Promising that this agony would end.

I just want this to end.

And that's when the devil visited me. His arms wrapped around my body as he carried me away to Hell.