The Escape Route

Chapter six.

I like fire. The way it's beautiful flames dance carelessly every single surface and embracing it gently with such powerful destructive passion only to leave an ugly ruined destroyed pile of ash that can be used for nothing and has no worth.

I like how fire can look so gentle but be so lethal. It looks so beautiful when it dances in the cold night providing warmth to our minds and bodies. I like how when you drag your finger across it real quick enough it doesn't hurt or burn. I like the way it is so terrifying and the way it destroys and kills. The way in a small ten minutes it can destroy your whole world and leave you knowing 'I'll never get that back. It was irreplaceable' Selena was irreplaceable.

When I lost Selena I saw the true meaning of being numb. I thought it just meant something like being on a epidural during birth or the effect of alcohol. I escaped my pain by searching for others pain and acting like I cared. I always knew my parents were worried for me because of my abnormally fast recovery. My parents were divorced a year later.

I forgot what true love was; sometimes I still forget. There is no doubt that there was something between Alistair and I. Definitely not anything silly like love and romance, no. It was somthing deeper, more frightening than the demon of love. Something dangerous that allured me like a moth to a light that felt like the bitter sweet prick of a rose.

When I woke up that morning I was alone. I heard the shower going next door. When I lifted the cover to find that I was dressed in my brilliant birthday suit I groaned and died a little inside remembering the happenings of horrid night before. I then heard the shower come to an abrupt halt so I scrambled to get my clothes on but only managed to get my underwear on before he came in drying his hair with a white towel with another one 'round his waist. I ignored his body so it was okay...well it was before he started talking.

"Look, girl. I don't know you and no I don't love you so just-"

"Alistair" I interrupted.

He carried on "Yes, I slept with you and yes I'm an asshole. Feel free to slap me-"

"Alistair!"

"Just not too hard because I need my face. It's kinda my job. Please leave after your free slap" he recited.

"Alistair" I shouted so he finally looked up at me.

His face morphed from bored to shocked "Evie? It was you?" I bit my lip and nodded "Holy shite, I took your virginity" he sighed then started chuckling to himself and looking at the ceiling in disbelief "Holy bloody shite, I fucked you. Damn" he laughed louder this time "I thought we would resist each other for longer than that I guess..."

"Dammit! I should have gone home after I left my dad's house. Oh God I'm going to be in so much trouble when I get home. Oh my gosh, I can't face my dad ever again! What if I-"

"Yeah you need to go" he cut in.

"What?"

"Everyone is going to be waking up soon. Do you really want to explain?" I shook my head and changed.

Right now I felt cheaper than a Christmas cracker in January.  I had been played. Used and thrown away like a dirty condom. And you know the worst thing about the morning that he made me leave?

I thanked him for letting  me stay the night.

Que face palm.

Thus started the lowest moment of my life so far. I wasn't, and never ever in a million years even if pigs started crapping on the clouds and serenading Olly Murs whilst he was on a date with me,  will I be proud of it. something so disgusting and so repellent a nun wouldn't have shown mercy on me at that time. Something so bad and terrible that hitler had nothing on me...that may have been an exaggeration but you get what I mean.

I had - no, not enough build up.

If I was a dude and I had the choice to do this or have a prostate exam...I would have a prostate exam.

This is something I wished never to do again but did.

The walk of shame.

As I travelled down the street towards my house I thought about how much trouble I was probably in. I imagined my mother's angry face and looks of disappointment. My head felt dizzy and I was finding it hard to breathe. Everything felt as if it were moving too fast but too slow. The feeling was horrible. I found an alleyway where I could reat despite the fact that it could have been dirty or unsanitary. My breathing got shallow as the hangover symptoms got stronger. Tears rolled down my soft cheeks. I looked up to the sky probably resembling something like a backing dancer in the music video of Shampain.

My first panic attack of many.

When I got back to my mother's house my mother was waiting in the front room along with her spouse and my two brothers. My mother was nursing a tea between her shaking fingers whilst Herby rubbed smooth circles slowly into her back. My twin's knee was bouncing up and down in anticipation. The other brother looked quite relaxed. When I entered the room my mother looked up with teary eyes, my brother's knee stopped bouncing. Seeing this picture made me remember my sister. She would never had made her family look like this.

My brother was the first to notice my tears and immediately embraced me. My shoulders shook violently as I poured out all my heart out to him. When I finally gained the strength to speak I said the one thing I was thinking about since my father's harsh words "I miss Selena" Gabe stiffened at the mention of our sister then continued to console me.

"I miss her too, Evie"

I pushed back and looked him in the eye "I'm never speaking to him again" Gabe looked as if he was about to protest but I stopped him "What he said was unforgivable, Gabe. He said he wishes it was me"

"What?"

"He said that he wishes that it was me who died in that house fire that day" I mumbled quietly looking down at his now wet t-shirt "And you know what?" I looked up again "I wish it was me too" I detached myself from my brother then carried my tired, used body up the stairs and slammed my door closed behind me.

Suicide had never been an option for me before that day. It was never something I wanted to commit. That day I wanted nothing more than to be in my sister's place. I stumbled into my pyjamas and dropped like a dead man onto my bed.

Soon it was dinner so my dear loving brother decided to come wake me up with a lovely bucket of water. My mother made Shepherds pie for us an brought it us as we were all sat down conversating round the table. I slapped Patrick's hand away from my leg numerous times. We continued with loud small talk and so on, like asking how everyone's day was. Nobody asked me because they were too afraid to find out. They would only find out what happened around that time the next year.

But that's a story for another time.

After dinner I did what I always did and puked that food. The bad thing was there was more than usual and the colour was a little off but that still didn't stop me. The acid burned my throat like I was getting reflux but I still didn't stop until-

"Evelyna?" I jumped up from my place and turned like a deer in the flashing headlights.

"Mum" I said wiping my mouth.

"What are you doing?"

"I don't know, I think it was the restauran-"

"Nobody else is sick"

"And I am, okay?"

"Okay" but it was not okay. As soon as she left she decided to call some people and two weeks later, the last week of the summer holidays, I found myself saying goodbye to Gabe, my mother, Herby and Alistair for a few months and coming face to face with the happy home of St. Claires house, a home for troubled children. A nut house that specialised in people with 'eating disorders'.

Apparently I had severe depression and bulimia. BS right?

Right?