Ev

I felt the weight on the mattress shift. My eyes fluttered open for a second, not taking in any information just yet. A sob made me open my eyes again, this time for a little longer.

It was still night. It was still raining. The sudden lightning that flashed across the sky made Daniel's form clear. He was sitting on the edge of the bed with his head down and sobs shook his body. I rubbed my eyes and rose to my elbows, ready to ask him what was up, when he stood up and walked off.

"Daniel?" I called out; my voice still groggy from sleep.

When no answer came, panic shot through me. I stood up just as I heard the water running in the bathroom. My legs moved on their own accord, my mind not even thinking about switching on the light. My hand pushed the door away, my eyes needing a second to adjust to the sudden light that came from the bathroom and fell on Daniel.

And my heart dropped.

He stood in front of the mirror, bracing himself against the sink. The faucet was running, and he was crying. Next to his feet was a package of old anti-anxiety medication I used to take.

"Fuck!"

I shot out and grabbed him, shutting off the faucet in the process, and pushed him back until he hit the wall opposite the mirror. He was still crying, but silently now.

"Daniel!" I yelled out, trying to get him to focus on me. "How many did you take?"

No answer came.

"Fuck, okay..." I took a deep breath to calm the panic overwhelming me. I got this. I knew what I had to do. "Okay, it's going to be fine. Daniel, look at me. It's going to be okay. You'll be fine, but you have to vomit," I told him while holding him up by the shoulders. Through the tears, he looked at me for a second. His eyes were on me, but I knew his mind wasn't. "Okay, come on..."

I started to pull him closer to the toilet by the wrists and when I crouched, he all but fell on his knees. He took in a shaky breath and fresh tears rolled down his face. I hated myself for it, but I reached and grabbed his jaw, pressing on the sides so that his mouth would open.

"I'm sorry... but if you don't puke, I'll take you to the hospital and they will make you puke," I told him.

When he said nothing, I exhaled and pushed two fingers inside his mouth until they hit the back of his throat. He didn't even flinch. I pulled a bit back, surprised at the lack of gag reflex, shook my head, and repeated the motion, but this time I pushed my fingers inside faster, reaching deeper. He convulsed and then started emptying his stomach in the toilet.

I was there to hold his head and rub his back, not being able to hold back a sigh of relief. My heart was still beating like crazy and my legs were shaking from the shock, but I tried to control my breathing and somehow calm my nerves. He was going to be fine. He was going to be fine. He was going to be fine.

"Make it stop..." he said in between sobs after he stopped vomiting.

"Make what stop?" I asked back, leaning closer to him. He was still kneeling before the toilet, but he didn't seem nauseous. "Daniel..."

"Let me die," he cried out. He looked up at me with pleading eyes and before I could respond he reached out and buried his face in my chest.

Both his arms wrapped around my back, holding me tight and leaving me out of breath. In the week that I had known him, this was the first time he had hugged me. In fact, ever since the motorcycle ride after the bridge last Friday, this was the first time he had come this close to me.

Sure, he shared the bed with me, and he had touched my tattoos and he had let me clean his wounds, but it wasn't the same. This felt different. He ended up crying violently against me, now and then muttering something unintelligible. I had one hand buried in his hair, trying to ease him, and another on his back.

"It's not happening anymore. You're safe. It's just a memory..." I muttered under my breath while hushing him.

"I can feel it. If it's not happening, then why can I feel it?"

"It's just a bad memory," I assured him, my accent getting thicker as I was tired. "You're here with me. It will never happen again".

He pulled back a little and looked up at me with a big child-like expression. "Can you promise me that?" he asked with an innocence that broke my heart.

I brought my hand that was in his hair down to his cheek and started wiping his tears away, seeing as new tears weren't replacing them anymore. He would pant every so often and he hadn't stopped shaking, but something about his demeanour made me relax just a tad bit.

"I promise I'll do anything I can to make sure it never happens again," I replied, not sure what I was promising to prevent. He still hadn't told me anything.

We stayed sitting there by the toilet for what felt like another hour, but as Daniel calmed down enough, I saw that he was shivering. I didn't say anything and just softly tugged on the sleeves of his shirt so he would follow me back to the other room. I turned on the space heater and he went and sat on the carpet next to it. He looked tired and sleepy, but I didn't want him to drift off just yet.

I sat down opposite him and shed him a smile. He weakly smiled back. I hadn't seen him smile much in the seven days that I'd known him. He rarely laughed too. The only time I had seen him do both was when he was watching a video on my laptop. And even then, it wasn't... it wasn't lively. Felt completely temporary and superficial.

I took a deep breath and mentally braced myself.

"Maybe you should talk to a professional."

His smile fell.

"This is the second time you tried to kill yourself in the week that I've known you," I went on and searched for his gaze. "Have you tried to do something like this before?"

"I couldn't before..." he replied, his voice raspy from all the crying. "I attempted once. But... I just couldn't."

"I might not understand what you have gone through or what you feel right now, but I want to help you. You're not alone in this. And killing yourself won't help you. It's not the solution you should be looking for," I said, and pressed my back against the foot of the bed.

"All I want is to be able to breathe without it hurting," he whispered and leaned closer to the heater.

"You will. It will stop hurting. It just takes time to heal."

He gave me a look that made me think he didn't believe my words and then he stood up. I watched him with a curious gaze as he walked to the side of the bed and got under the cover. I stood up and went to crouch down next to him. His big green eyes focused on me and he stared at me for a second before he closed them.

I shook my head lightly and then brought the duvet further up to cover him up to his ears. I rose and walked to my dresser, where my phone was charging. With I quick glance at my phone, I saw that it was a little after five. I wasn't going back to sleep. I took out a hoodie and changed my shirt, seeing as the one I was wearing had Daniel's tears on it. Then I got my phone and headphones and placed them on the table, ready to start drawing, when something stopped me.

I glanced over at Daniel and saw that he had fallen asleep, his breathing getting deeper and more relaxed. I reached into the first drawer of my dresser and took out a belt I didn't use anymore and an old chain that I normally attached to my jeans. Then I grabbed the pair of shoelaces and placed all three on the floor by the bed. I looked at Daniel again and went to the bathroom. I picked up the pack of the medicine and a razor I stopped using as well as an almost empty bottle of bleach.

Shampoo, cologne, after-shave, mouthwash. Those were fine. I poured the bleach down the toilet, flushing it afterwards and the rest of the stuff I went and placed them next to the other things by the bed. From my nightstand, I got my butterfly knife and a small plastic bag of ecstasy I didn't take anymore and threw it on the pile too. Then I went to the kitchenette.

I generally didn't have much kitchenware, but I did have one sharp knife. I thought about it for a second, and then I took it out and went back to the pile. From my neck, I pulled off the key I wore as a necklace. Then I got the locked metal box from underneath the bed and unlocked it.

I looked at the money, the picture, and the chess piece I had inside and despite hesitating, I took out the picture and the chess piece before I placed the other items I had gathered inside. Then I locked it, shoved the box under the bed, and placed the key around my neck again.

I sat on the table, my back to the bed, and put on my headphones. For a few moments I stared at the empty page of my sketchbook and then I turned around in my chair and looked at Daniel, without removing my headphones. Classical music was loud enough to interrupt my thoughts, but I didn't lower the volume. Instead, I kept on looking at him.

Who the fuck had caused this? And what the fuck had they done to him? It was clear to me that he was being abused. It had been clear to me the first night he had met. Seeing him so withdrawn and flinching and so wounded, something in my mind had just clicked. I had seen kids like him before.

Samantha Harrison. I had met her a little after I turned thirteen. I hadn't had the chance to get to know her, but I had heard quite a lot about her before I saw her name engraved on stone. After her parents' death, she had been given to her uncle to be raised. He liked to hit her. I was told that he hurt her so much that her spirit broke and she couldn't pick up the pieces anymore.

And then there was Mason Malloy. I had met him a little after I turned seventeen. He was a friend of Marcie's and he was a year younger than me. He was dating a woman twice his age who had given him a home when he had nothing. I had only seen them together once, at a party. She called him Jailbait and she was overly lustful when she was around him. I couldn't count the times I had seen her climb on his lap and start making out with him and feel him up while he was trying to have a conversation. He had seemed so uncomfortable throughout that party, I just felt bad for him. From what I knew, he was currently serving time for shoplifting. At least, he was away from her.

Daniel's behaviour reminded me of both of them partially. Only he somehow seemed to have gone through so much more. I couldn't help but wonder when the abuse had started. And how often it must have happened.

But I wasn't about to ask him about it. It wasn't my place and it wasn't going to help him. If anything, asking him about his past and whatever trauma he had gone through would make things worse. It would make him reinforce the walls he already had up and it would force him to deal with something he clearly couldn't deal with yet. He needed time and space and he needed to understand that I wasn't any sort of threat to him.

I just hoped he didn't kill himself before he understood that.

A/N: Hello, I wanted to quickly point out that if any of you are ever in Ev's position and happen upon someone who has tried to OD, please do not induce vomiting. Call the authorities, or well anyone for help, and make sure that person doesn't fall unconscious, but know that inducing vomiting can make things worse. In this case, Ev knew the medication and knew how to handle such a situation and he also knew not a lot of time had passed since Daniel took the pills. Please be careful and wait for help.