It was dark. Little bits of light filtered through some far off window. Evie could see flecks of dust dance through the light, like fairies. She was in her room, her old room. In front of her was the cracked and dusty surface of an old mirror and surrounding her was the feeling of intense unease- so thick it felt like sickness or death, coating everything with its stench. It wasn’t the mirror that brought the unease but what she saw within it. The planes of her face were pale and smooth. There was no pink in her cheeks, no glimmer in her eyes, wide and pale eyes. Pale like her face. Her lips, once full and rosy, cracked and stretched in the grotesque imitation of a smile. Slowly, the figure in the mirror, herself, raised its hand. It waved. The fingers of her left hand curled slightly in the reflection, flicking slowly back and forth as it waved. Her real hand remained motionless, heavy with fear and dread. And then it was too much, an unbearable weight. Tears pooled and then dripped, slowly, down her cheeks and into her mouth. The reflection remained as it was, no tears.
“Please,” she said, begging. There was a rip somewhere deep within her and the reflections lips stretched farther, smiling wider, if possible. It’s lips moved and no words could be heard. But then they stretched across the mirror, slowly, etching themselves into the thick metallic glass. A single word: “Goodbye.”
Evie jerked awake. She was gasping for breath and her long red hair was slicked against her face and neck with sweat and what appeared to be tears. She was crying?! Disgusted with herself, she jerked back the covers and rushed to the motel’s crappy bathroom. She closed the door quietly and lay down on the cold tiled floor, willing herself to breathe. In. And out. In. And out. Just breathe. Slowly, she felt her body cool; her heartbeat slowed to a normal rhythm and the calm façade she wore on the outside returned, like a thick protective blanket. When Evie was little, she carried a wool blue blanket everywhere with her. When asked why, she said it was her bullet proof blanky and no one could hurt her when it was with her. Her emotionless exterior was like the grown up version of her bullet proof blanky.
Evie picked herself up off the floor and climbed into the shower. Despite the hour of the day, Evie needed to go out and do something.
Once she had finished her shower, she went back into her room, a towel wrapped around her body. She picked out some clothes from her suitcase. She never would have thought she’d be living out of a suitcase. Despite that, here she was…
“Sweetie?” Her mother called through the door, “May I come in?”
“Just a minute!” Evie called back. She changed quickly and then let her mother in.
“Oh, Evelyn, this room is just a mess!” Her mother exclaimed, picking up the used towel and hanging it in the bathroom. She then proceeded to straighten out the covers on Evie’s bed and fluff the pillows. Evie ignored her and instead rushed around the room, collecting the few belongings she still carried with her everywhere. She grabbed her wallet, a phone, a small notepad and the room key. Then she shoved them all in various places on her body- the phone went into a pocket, the wallet got shoved into her waistband, the key and notepad went into her socks. Finally Evie made a straight shot to the door.
“Where are you going, honey?” her mom asked.
“To get some coffee,” Evie said, shifting from leg to leg restlessly.
“Oh…” her mom seemed disappointed. “How long will you be gone?”
“I dunno. When do I have to be back here?” Evie asked, glancing to the door.
“Oh…whenever, I suppose. Just be home before dark, please,” Evie’s mom said.
“This place isn’t home,” Evie quipped. Evie’s mom’s face crumpled and she instantly felt bad. However, she ignored the feeling and left.
Outside everything was coated in a thick fog. The fog tasted sweet on her tongue, like the butter cream frosting her grandma always made for birthdays and special occasions. She hung a left and made her way down Poplar to the small twenty four hour café. She was met by a small congregation and loud little bursts of conversation. Not long after she had been standing there, freezing her butt off and becoming progressively more frustrated, a young man walked up to her. He was a little older than her.
“Excuse me,” he said. “Are you waiting for the shop to open?”
Evie rolled her eyes internally. What a nimrod- why else would she be standing outside the café at 6AM on a freezing cold day?
“That’s why I’m here, obviously.” Evie quipped. “I shouldn’t even be waiting- it’s a 24-hour shop. Why is it closed?”
“I was about to ask you the same thing,” he said. “Sorry to bother you…?” He let his sentence hang, waiting for her to respond with a name. Evie squinted at him, then she said,
“Evie.”
“Sorry to bother you, Evie,” the boy said. Then he turned and walked away. Evie’s mood was no better now- it was, in fact, a little bit worse. Groaning in frustration, she turned and left the coffee shop. She walked up and down Poplar, kicking little bits of gravel and scuffing her chucks on the rough road. She took a right onto some street she hadn’t yet explored and made her way to an old wood shack. It seemed abandoned except for a little stack of dirty clothes on the inside. Evie sat, leaning against the shack and thinking. She missed home. She missed her house. She missed the times when her dad wasn’t an asshole or an alcoholic. She was so done. So, so, so done.
“Goddamnit,” she muttered, clutching at her hair. “How the fuck did we get here? What the hell am I supposed to do? God-fucking-dammit!” She stood and kicked the side of the shed with all the force she could muster.
“Agh! Shiiiit!” She moaned, clutching her freshly angered toe. Just then her foot vibrated. It was the phone in her sock, she realized. It was ringing. She pulled it out and looked at the caller I.D. It said: Vanessa Jakyl.
“What, mom?” she said, flipping open the phone.
“Sweetie, there’s been a p-p-problem,” her mom said, racking in a long scratchy sigh.
“What is it? Is it dad?”
“You need to come h-h-home. We have to go to the h-h-hospital.” The line went dead. Evie’s head was spinning like a carnival ride and her heart was pounding. She hurried back to the motel room, rushing into her parents’s room. Rick, her father, lay on the floor, pale and unmoving. A dark stain was spreading across the off-white carpet of the motel room. The whole area stank like dirt and copper- Evie raised a hand to her mouth and retched.
“Oh, Evelyn!” her mother flew at her, embracing her tightly.
“Mom, get OFF,” Evie pushed her away. She fell to the floor beside her father. He turned his head to her. His pale eyes, exactly like her own, were half closed and lost looking.
“Evie,” he said. “My sweet girl. There are some things that…some things that your mother and I need to tell you.” Evie’s mom stood behind them, hovering.
“Mom, he’s delusional. Call 911,” Evie said, not looking up.
“NO!” Her father grabbed her wrist desperately. “No.”
“Dad, you will die. Okay? You will DIE. We need to get you to the hospital.”
“No, Evie. They can never know. After I go…after I go, you and your mother need to get rid of any evidence of who I am. Okay? Destroy all evidence of who I am and then move to the apartments next door. That is where you will learn what you need to know,” his whole being was steady, even as near as he was to death.
“Daddy…” Tears dripped onto her hands which were clasped in her lap. Blood stained her jeans dark red, almost black.
“Your mother will explain…everything.”
“No. Rick, this has gone too far. You can’t let them win. I won’t let you,” Evie’s mother whipped out a phone and dialed 911. “Yes, I need help immediately. My husband has been shot and he is bleeding profusely.”
Evie held her father’s hand. Nothing could be the same after this…her mother’s words swirled around inside her brain, on repeat: you can’t let them win. You can’t let them win. You…can’t…let them…win…
The question was…who was “they?”
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