This chapter is more narrative than dialogue and I'm honestly sorry if it comes off as a bore but trust me when I say that its all really important. They add to who she is building up to as a person and even tho you don't see it now, the details will eventually play a role in the last parts of the story...
Right then, enjoy reading!
---
Once Eva had stripped off her school uniform and slipped into home clothes, she made her way to the kitchen downstairs.
She had actually decided what it was that she was going to prepare for dinner whilst sitting on the bleachers when she wasn’t telling Maite how delusional she was being about trying to crack open Eva’s walls of steel.
Her eyes flitted towards the clock in the hall as she passed it on her way to the kitchen; it was a reflex that was born out of the constant panic of being even a minute late and enraging Logan. He needed the dining table set when he got home, and Eva had learnt the harsh way to live up to that expectation.
The cicatrices of cigarette burns on her arms served as a constant reminder.
She shut her eyes, attempting to close off her mind to the memory of the awful white-hot scalding pain that had flowed through her skin.
Eva forced herself into the kitchen, compelling her body to go through with the motions while hoping against hope that her mind would eventually follow suit. It was one thing to live through all of it, a wholly other thing for her to relive them mentally.
Opening the fridge, she took out the plastic container in which she’d stored the corned beef she’d made in the morning before going to school. But then, remembering that she didn’t need it right now since it was going to be used for the filling, she placed it back into the refrigerator. What she needed to do now was make the starter and let it rise.
Turkish Bread was one of her favourites and thankfully Logan happened to enjoy it too which meant that Eva got to make it quite often.
Some days and nights Eva couldn’t help but wonder if she inherited her cooking ability from her mother — she wasn’t confident about them being any good but Logan always seemed satisfied after meals and considering it took a lot to make him satisfied, Eva figured she might not be that bad at it. It seemed to be about the only thing she could get right. She was an utter failure at everything else — she didn’t even look right when compared to other girls.
Did her mother look like her when she was sixteen?
There was that violent jolt in her stomach again at the thought of her mother. Eva didn’t understand — most times it was like her mother was a memory from a lifetime away. And then there were certain times when the memory didn’t seem so distant… when it felt like a few shards of that broken promise were still stuck inside Eva, digging into her flesh from the inside, tearing a new hole that wouldn’t be fully healed.
Why hadn’t she come back for her? Why hadn’t her mother come back for her? What was so wrong with Eva — so terribly horrifyingly wrong — that she wasn’t worth coming back to?
These were stupid questions she was asking herself. Why was she so burnt about it anyways? She was worthless; hadn’t she be told that enough times now already? Why couldn’t she just drill it into her head that she was of no importance? That she wasn’t needed the way she was needy? How she found the nerve to even consider it a possibility that she should have been significant enough for her mother to come back to was beyond her.
Needing to shake off the unsettling feelings, she snapped out of her stupor only to realise that enough time had passed by and the starter would have risen enough by now.
She was proven right when she saw the frothing at the top of the bowl and unbeknownst to her, a smile made its way onto her face. Baking was therapeutic, and she enjoyed every second of it.
Once she was done kneading it and decided it was smooth enough, and the right amount of sticky too, she placed it into another container lined with oil before sealing it with the container’s lid and setting it aside to rise.
Maybe ma would come back after all. She hadn’t exactly specified when she’d be back, did she? She’d told Eva that she would be back and maybe she meant to keep her word. Perhaps something had gone wrong and it set her mother back — maybe there’d been a delay of some sort.
There was some sort of explanation — Eva was certain of it.
She didn’t understand how these maybes kept popping into her head at the oddest times, no warning, always within a blink of an eye and always dragging her back into the same web she exhausts herself by untangling and struggling to crawl out of.
Like a tiring game of cat and mouse, or a dog chasing its own tail. It was beginning to take its toll on Eva.
She had an hour left till she had to attend to the dough again so she went back upstairs, deciding to finish the homework Mr Quinn had given them. She didn’t particularly like the English subject but it was one that she didn’t have to do any deep studying for, it was uncomplicated and she liked that. Academics was just another thing that she lacked any skill in; always bordering dangerously on the average. Any lesser than how she was currently performing, and she’d be failing her classes. The only thing that kept her going was the idea of how angry Logan would be to get a call from her principal and the indefinite punishment that would follow.
Letting out a tired breath, Eva lifelessly began to take out her books.
---
When Logan arrived, the rich aroma of melted cheese and fresh bread along with a hint of thyme and oregano was floating through the entire house. Eva thought she could just close her eyes and lose herself in the smell alone.
It was, in every sense of the word, heavenly.
“Eva?”
She immediately made her way towards the man who was supposed to be her stepfather. “Yes?” She asked, her hands clasped in front of her, wondering if she’d done something wrong again.
He pushed the briefcase in his hand towards her, letting go of it all too quickly that she had to fumble around and grab it before it fell to the floor. “You know where that goes,” he threw over his shoulder as he strode towards the staircase and began ascending it. “I’m going to clean up,” he called out, his voice reaching her ears crystal clearly through the lack of life in the house, “dinner better be ready by the time I’m done.”
Eva nodded vigorously even though his back was towards her and then hurried to place the briefcase in his study that was past the living room.
When she got back to the kitchen, she slipped on a pair of mittens and pulled the greased tray out of the oven, the Turkish Bread looking a beautiful golden that for a split second, Maite’s face whizzed through Eva’s mind much to her surprise. Taking hold of a knife, she began cutting into the long bread, revealing bits of the melted cheese and corned beef stuffing that emitted a stronger aroma now that it could freely waft into the air.
Eva didn’t know what it was, but she could carry on talking about baking forever. It had become her favourite hiding spot, and she never wanted to have to come out of it.
---
“So, Eva,” Logan started, making Eva place the glass of water back on the table before taking a sip of it. “How was school today?”
“It was good,” Eva told, her words rehearsed. Automatic.
“That’s what you’ve been saying since you set your useless foot in this house of mine,” Logan sighed, as if discussing the weather. “But then maybe it’s just the ridiculously small vocabulary. You have been paying more attention to your classes, haven’t you?”
Eva swallowed hard. “Yeah.”
“Yes.”
“Yes,” she quickly amended. “Yes, I have.”
“Good,” he murmured, “that’s good. It’d be a shame to have to make you pay attention in school.”
Something nasty crawled up Eva’s skin at his words. She knew what he meant and even though she was used to what he considered was appropriate punishment, it didn’t mean that she found the blinding pain any more tolerable than the first time his hand had struck her down.
“And friends?” he asked, his voice even and steady as if building up to something.
“W-what?”
“Friends, you dimwit,” he explained, slight exasperation evident in his tone, “friends. Do I have to explain what the term means now?”
“N-no,” Eva shook her head, “I understand what a friend is.”
“Well there’s a shocker,” Logan chuckled humourlessly, stuffing the last bite of his bread into his mouth and chewing it while Eva waited patiently for him to continue what he’d been trying to say. She looked down at the food on her plate longingly, knowing that it was going cold and it wouldn’t be as delicious.
“So?” he asked once he’d swallowed and downed his glass of water. “Have you any friends at all?”
“F-friends — me? N-no, I don’t,” she struggled to say, at a complete loss if her reply would anger him or please him. Panic started to bubble in her stomach, and she felt like she could throw up. She wasn’t prepared for this — she never knew that the topic of her having friends would ever come up. Never had it crossed her mind!
Why did she keep fumbling? Why couldn’t she get one thing right? She was always messing one thing up after another. No wonder Logan always got mad at her; she was beginning to understand why her own father had been so enraged and disappointed with her mother too. It was because her mother was always in the wrong, but Eva was going to do better. She had to please Logan — after all, he was still offering her a roof which was more than someone like her was worth. He was taking her into his care despite her proving to be nothing short of useless, and she needed to repay that favour without behaving with such ingratitude.
“Obviously, I doubt anyone would want to be friends with you,” he smirked, “there’s a thousand better picks out their but maybe try socialising more, okay? Your teacher, Mr Quinn, called me the other day. Said some nonsense about being worried about your unhealthy social life… or something along those lines anyway.” Logan pushed back his chair and rose out of it, and on instinct, Eva did too, waiting by like an obedient soldier for an order. “I don’t want the nosy bastard trying to make a huge fuss about things like this. I can’t be bothered with meeting your teachers — the nerve of them, really! As if I haven’t done enough already; you’re not even my daughter! Thank heavens; I’d have died of shame if you were.”
“You’re right,” Eva agreed. During the early stages, Eva would say the words to maintain some balance in the already tense atmosphere. It became a routine and developed into years of practice. Eventually, the words turned into a method of self-convincing until she became all that she was told she was. “I-I’ll try to make friends then…” the idea alone terrified Eva. She had to try and mingle with other students now? After spending her entire life pushing — no, shoving — them away as harshly as she possibly could? She wouldn’t even know where to begin.
“You do that,” Logan muttered, turning his back to her and retreating to his study, probably for some late night working. “Just don’t be too shocked if no one wants to associate themselves with you.”
And with a slam of the door, he was gone.
Eva cast a tired glance down at the table, wanting to hit the bed but knowing she had to do all the dishes first. She had even lost her appetite with all the anxiousness that the conversation has brought on. Fortunately though, things hadn’t gone too bad tonight.
Eva must have done something right today— perhaps it was the dinner — because she was going to go to bed without a fresh bruise.
She’d done something right today; and the thought made her smile.
--------------------------------------------------------
Written on; 29th December 2016
--------------------------------------------------------
A/N : like i said in the earlier note, sorry when i go into the details of her love for baking but its necessary for her character arc. Its okay if you can't see that now but you'll understand why in some time.
Thanks for sticking around, loves ❤