Do You Know Eva?

Do You Know Eva- Chapter One

“Woops, my bad dyke,” he says, laughing. He returns to his group and they all turn to laugh at pathetic little Eva, lying on the ground- books sprawled around her and mascara running down her face. What doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger, Eva.

     I pick up my books and run to the entrance, down the stairs and keep running. I don’t stop until I reach the forest and even then I keep running. It isn’t until I am completely alone in the heart of the forest that I stop and let out a heart wrenching scream to the skies.

     The walk home from the forest takes a matter of minutes and soon enough I am walking along the road where a small, two-story house stands in the corner of a rich estate. A dark cloud begins to ascend over my house. Drops of rain begin to fall and in the distance I hear the beginnings of thunder and lightning waging war. I stand behind the whit gate and look at the house. The once bright yellow paint has now turned a vile brown and has began to peel. A window to the right is cracked and baskets holding dead flowers hang outside the door.

     I open the gate; it creaks as it swings shut again. I follow the stones on the ground to the doorstep where I find myself bracing myself behind a door once again. This door is much more perilous. I would much rather open a door to find thirty people looking at me than what was behind this one. The eyes that linger behind this door are a lot harder to look into.

     I enter the house and I am immediately hit with the smell of dampness. Icy, cold air lingers in the house. We haven’t been able to afford gas, not in a long while. But I have gotten used to it even though the fight with coldness shouldn’t be something to get used to. The carpet I walk along has lost its royal red color and turned almost grey, torn to pieces, alcohol stains cover it.

      In the distance I hear the sounds of a television set blaring, trash TV threatens to turn my mind to mush. I can just imagine her sitting on the couch in front of the TV, wearing the same pajamas as yesterday and drinking a half empty can of beer. I need not imagine.

     The living room is no greater than the rest of the house. I stand at the door and look at my mother, Susan, a vile, angry and alcoholic woman who, unhappy with her own life, enjoys making mine a living hell. She doesn’t take her eyes from the reality show she is watching when she speaks.

“Where were you, you are late?” Her speech is slurred.

“I stopped in the forest for a bit.”

“Get me a beer from the fridge,” she says. I stand and look at her before replying. “Now!” she barks. I retreat into the kitchen. Dirty dishes and over flowing bins have demeaned a once beautiful kitchen where so many happy memories were created. I pull a can of beer from the fridge and return to the living room.

“Here,” I say, passing her the can. She cracks it open and sucks the foam from the top. Her face drops a little and she burps. I mumble the word “Pathetic” under my breath, a mistake I will soon regret.

“Excuse me?” She says, “What did you call me, Evangeline?”

“Don’t call me that, my name is Eva.”

     She stands up and we are face to face. Her alcohol stained breath invades my nose ad my face crinkles. Her body odor forces me back a few spaces.

“Jeez ma, when was the last time you showered? Look at you, you're a mess!” the words seemed to come on their own. This wasn’t me talking. Is it because I know that after tonight I knew she couldn’t harm me anymore? Has my imminent death brought out a confidence?

Susan drops her can of beer and the liquid soon joins the rest of the stains on the carpet.

“Don’t you talk to me about hygiene you filthy pig!” She screams into my face. “You ruined my life, you know that?” She whispers as if I wasn’t supposed to hear, as if she had never said it to me before.