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evangeline blackwood

"I'm not testifying, Dee." I admit.

"What?" His eyes widen, "You need to, Eva. The whole case will fall apart without you."

"I can't do it." Involuntarily, my fingernails begin clawing my wrist. "I can't face any of them again."

"You should speak about what happened to you," He sounds like he's begging. "Scream it even, so that one day in ten,  fifty and even a hundred years from now another kid won't need to dry their tears wondering where in history they lost their voice."

I shake my head, "It won't make a difference."

"Who next then?" He raises his voice, making me flinch back. Upon noticing my expression, he appears to visibly calm down. "If Michael gets off because you don't speak up, who's funeral we going to next? Because that's what's going to happen if we don't get justice."

"Justice don't mean the bad guys get sent down. It just means someone pays for the crime."

"That's going to be Logan."

"He stabbed me." I snap, "That's my justice."

"And what about Jonah, eh? And Morgan and Apollo? Where's their justice?" He kisses his teeth, "I'm sorry, Eva. This isn't your fault, I know that. But what's the point of having a voice if you ain't going to speak up when you need to?"

"They expect me to get up in front of a room of strangers and tell them what he did to me, what he did to my brother." My voice breaks, tears streaming down my face. "I can barely speak to my Mum about it, nevermind people who don't even give a flying fuck about it."

"Look, I know it's hard bu-"

"No, you don't. And I'm sorry, I know Morgan's death has destroyed you but that pain that you're feeling, it's how I've felt since I was 14. That dull ache, the fear, the anger. That's my life, but no one knew. Now I have to walk to the shop and I can physically feel people staring at me. Boys who used to flirt with me and be able to have a laugh with me just completely avoid my path. Is this my life now? I thought it'd be easier when I spoke about it, like I wouldn't need to hide anymore. I thought that everything would go back to how it was before and some part of me would feel better. But I don't. And standing up in a courtroom and admitting what I saw won't help the case. It happened years ago and no one will believe me!"

"Listen to me, Eva. Listen to me!" Our eyes meet, "You're going to stand in that court and you're going to tell them exactly what Michael did to you and what he did to Jonah. Do you understand that? Because anyone with half a brain cell just needs to look at you to see you're not lying. And then we're going to watch him rot in prison and you get your life back. You're going to fall in love, and have kids, and be successful. You're going to do so many wonderful things that you won't even remember his name. From now on, you're no longer his victim. Do you understand that? You're Evanagline Blackwood, the strongest motherfucking girl I've ever met, and only you can decide what happens from now."

"I can't." My voice shakes, the tears going faster. "I can't have kids."

His eyebrows furrow, "What?"

"I'll never forget his name. He took away my brother and he took away my future by putting that blade inside me." I ramble, taking a shaky breath. "I know Logan held the knife but it was Michael's hit, Michael's decision."

"Then just do whatever makes you happy."

"I don't want to do this anymore, Dee. I'm tired."

"Just get through the next few months, the trial. It'll be over before you know it. I promise. I know that pain, that trauma, was yours. But there are thousands of people on this planet who are feeling exactly like you. Now we need to make a decision in order to get justice for them boys."

He grabs my hand, squeezing it.

"I'm tired of hiding."

"So am I, so we're going to get through this together."

"I'm scared."

"I'm terrified." He leans down and kisses my knuckles. "But I want to look him in the eye and just let him know that he'll never have that power over us again. We decide what happens from here."

I nod my head, "I'm going to make sure he never hurts anyone ever again."

---------

I knew Logan long enough to know that he didn't start out as a monster who had no regard for his actions. He became one. That's what makes his ending so scary. He'll be serving a minimum of 4 years inside at 19 years old. He's got an attempted murder charge at 19. Once he's out, he'll be completely alone. No foster family, no friends. Just him.

And that can happen to anybody.

The next Logan could be my cousin. My neighbour. A boy from college. Not some nameless, anonymous murderer who appears from nowhere and reeks havoc and misery.

He faced the cruelty of the world at such a young age, being forced to mature off pain and not age. He felt like the blade was his only chance at power, his only choice. And it's fucked.

He could've chose to stay in school. To start work. Get an apprenticeship. So many options but he went with the one that did the most damage, to both himself and me.

And now where are we? I could be dead in a ditch six feet under. But no, I'm left alive with no possible opportunity of making a family and the constant memories of what I witnessed and what was done to me. And Logan caused that.

Not Michael or Karis, Mo or Logan's father.

Logan put that blade into my stomach and Logan left me there to rot.

So as I stood up in the Youth Centre with a dozen of eyes on me, just a few days ago, I remembered that some of these kids could be in the exact same position as Logan or me. We never know what anybody in the world is going through.

The words were no longer stuck in my throat but it still hurt when I spoke them aloud.

"My name is Evan Blackwood and I'm here because I saw my brother get killed."

My Mum's, Jace's, eyes were drilled onto me with pride lingering aimlessly within them. She didn't know that I was suffering too, I guess it made me realise more than I ever have before.

Morgan was a victim of childhood neglect and, in the 6 years of knowing him, I never knew.

Logan was a victim of childhood abuse and was forced to live on the streets.

Ashanti was assaulted at a party when we were 16. She never told me.

Adonis is a recovering teenage alcoholic. Just like my Mum was.

Phoenix has been diagnosed with anorexia nervosa.

We were all silent. Until now.

And me.

From the moment my brother was ripped so callously from this world, I've known the feeling of loneliness. I've known grief, and pain, and longing, and regret. I've fell to the bottom of my own mental abyss. I've reopened scars that I thought would fade. I've begged and pleaded for any God to just let me have one more second with my brother. I dropped out of school, threw my future away, been scared more than once that my life would be taken from me- either from a monster or from myself.

I've never shied away from the world's darkness but things are different now, I don't want to be stuck in this labyrinth forever. Running around countlessly in circles that never end.

So now I'm stood in my bathroom, looking at the scar that seemed so little in comparison to the pain it evoked, I can't believe that I survived all of this hell. I'm not the same person I was when Jonah died. I heard her in my head for years, the softness in her voice and the kindness in her heart.

I'll never go back to being her again and I've accepted that.

I'm okay with that now. 4 and a half years later, I've finally accepted that the scared version of myself needs to be left behind.

I don't hear her anymore.

To be honest, I don't know how to feel about that. For so long, I wanted to be different. Callous. Emotionless. Empty. So no one in the God-damned world could ever hurt me.

I didn't achieve my goal. I'm not as soft as I once was but I'm not truly cold either. I had enough strength to crawl out of my own self-constructed mental cage and stood tall. I survived my own funeral.

Michael Jacobsen called for my death and I am finally proud that he, possibly for the first time, did not get his wish.

I'm not the same girl that Adonis Walker met all those months ago in JP's Cafe.

I'm not the same girl who took Atlas to the ice-cream parlour or argued with her Mums about attending stupid therapy sessions.

I'm not the same girl who got stabbed. I'm not the same girl who almost died outside my college.

I'm not angry about that anymore.

I don't see the point. I can't change the events that have occurred. I can't change the sort of person I was or the person I am now. I can't change the fact that, before now, I never spoke up.

Now, I've found my voice.

It took me longer than most and, because of that, Morgan died.

I forgive myself for my role in his death.

And I'm not forgiving myself due to my self-pitying or cathartic mindset. I'm forgiving myself because Morgan would not want me to suffer in his name. I'm forgiving myself because now I can tell the truth. Morgan didn't want me to hate myself or fight who I was going to become.

I might have stopped this years-long battle with myself, but I'm not done fighting by a long shot.

When I see Michael stand up in that court, I'm going to fight for justice. I won't cower away or let my demons take over again.

I swear, Jonah.

I'm going to fight until I have no more air to breath. I'm going to fight until my voice turns to dust and Michael's soul to ashes.

I will never stay silent again. I promise.

* * * * *

Morgan.

The boy whose laugh will never leave me.

The boy who defended his family, defended those who needed him. The selfless boy, the brave, the kind.

I adored you from the day I met you when I was eleven and I doubt that'll ever changed. I can't believe you're not here anymore, I can't wrap my head around it. You were my best mate for so long and I'm pissed at myself for dragging you into this mess.

I can barely see the screen as I write this from crying so hard. I love you with every ounce of my being and thank you for being in my life. There will be a hole in my heart forever that will never heal. I will never forget you. I will never stop talking about you. I'll never be silent again, I promise. You were everything. You're the best person I've ever had the privilege of knowing, Morgan Jackson.

Wish I could hug you just one last time, Morgs. I just want one more second with you.

Thank you for being my brother.

I hope you're okay now, rest easy.

Your sister, always and forever

Evan.

* * * * *