CHAPTER TWO// THOUGHTS LIKE A HURRICANE
She is a strong structure
But the world pounds on her daily
Like a fist.
Beating. Striking. Bruising.
How long will it be
Before the walls that hold her up
Crumble down?
~
HARPER GREYSON RESTS her hand on her daughter’s shoulder as she places the plate of steaming pancakes in front of Eve on the hardwood table. Her thin blonde eyebrows furrow with concern at the back of Eve’s dark hair, remembering how she was cradling that very head only a couple hours before. “How are you feeling this morning?”
Eve watches nauseously as the golden maple syrup runs thickly down the sides of the pancake stack, piling at the bottom and threatening to spill over the edge of the plastic plate. Wincing at the sickening-sweet smell that fills her nostrils, her stomach churns at the thought of eating anything. Appetite has become a foreign mystery since she woke up that morning. “Fine,” she mutters quietly under her breath, hating how her voice slightly quivered as she lies. The last thing she needed this morning was her mom keeping her home from school...again. “Great, actually.” Eve nods, nudging her fluffy pancakes absently with a fork.
Harper’s gentle, green eyes light up– a vast difference from the motherly, worried glances in the dark earlier. Her tentative smile stretches across the entirety of her long, angular face, bringing out a loveliness that is often hidden away behind the headaches of everyday life; a life that contained a child that is not completely normal. “As you should be,” she beams at Eve. “It isn’t everyday you turn seventeen.”
The words twist into Eve like a knife, leaving her breathless. Seventeen, she thinks, breaking away fromt the fragile eye contact with her mother. How many more years will I survive before I end up in some insane asylum for lost causes?
But not wanting Harper’s rare smile to slip, Eve shoves on a new expression; a mask of acceptance when turmoil churns inside. Forcing a strained grin, she says, “Then I suppose we should break out the birthday cake, eh?”
Harper lets out a brief laugh that sounds more like a sigh of relief. As she turns around to put some of the silverware back in the drawer from the dishwasher, a blonde strand of hair slips out of her messy bun that lays in a clump on the back of her neck. “Not yet, my little one.”
“Little?” Eve scoffs. “Only a few days ago, you were tearing up because I was ‘all grown up’.” She quotes with her fingers, raising her eyebrows.
“But it’s true. You are all grown up,” Harper says, meeting her daughter’s eyes once again with pride and sentiment. Reaching out an arm, her fingers stop a short inch from caressing her daughter’s pale skin. But as if her delicate touch might threaten Eve’s fragile mood, she immediately drops her hand, clearing her throat. “Anyways, your father took time off his shift tonight to come home early to celebrate with us,” she says. “You know he misses you.”
And I miss him, Eve thinks. Ever since her dad, Robert Greyson, had taken more shifts at the hospital to support the family’s tight medical funds, she hardly sees him like she used too. And when she does happen to catch some time with him, he is tired and bleak; the complete opposite of the lively, vibrant man she used to know. At what point does the money not matter anymore– when it changes a man’s soul?
Shaking herself of such dreary thoughts, Eve asks, “Would you mind if I invite Brit tonight?”
Harper sighs, resting her hands on her petite hips. “I knew you were going to ask that.”
Eve raises an eyebrow. “Well?”
“I suppose,” Harper says, shaking her head, “that she is practically family anyways...”
“Good, because I already invited her.” Eve smiles, a genuine one, and scoots her chair back, slinging her bag across her shoulders. “I need to head out. Don’t want to be late to school on my birthday, do I?”
Harper chuckles, and Eve, standing up, realizes just how small her mom really is. Two inches shorter than Eve’s 5’3 height, she is like a small bird, thin boned and angular as if made for flight. She looks almost nothing like her daughter– blonde, graying hair, large and worried green eyes, with a thin line of her mouth– except the stubborn set of her jaw. But beneath the fragile body, there is a strength that one can only attain from years of hardship and strife.
Eve realizes, that without her mother supporting her, she would have crumbled long ago.
In a moment, Harper’s eyes narrow with caution. “You would tell me,” she whispers, voice cracking slightly, “if you weren’t okay, wouldn’t you?”
Images of ravens tearing at her skin rip through Eve’s mind like a strong wind, blowing away rational thoughts like a hurricane. Fighting to keep her emotions in check, she turns around so her mom can’t see her pained face.
With a deep breath before she lies again, she winces and bites her lip. “Of course, Mom,” Eve says without a hitch in her voice. “I tell you everything.” And then she walks out the door without another word, leaving behind a concerned mom and a plate of untouched pancakes.
~
“WOULD YOU BELIEVE me,” Brit questions as she ties her long, wild red hair into a ponytail, “that I got you the best birthday present ever?”
Eve shakes her head, laughing as they walk across the parking lot into Hazelwood High, the only high school within twenty miles of Stonesage. Of course with the town’s less than exemplary population count, that meant practically every teenager within the vicinity, including Eve’s best friend, went to the same old school building each morning. Made in the 1950s, some of the stones in the walls had started to erode, leaving a patchwork of areas where they filled in cement to keep the mortar holding up. All in all, the school remained mostly unchanged through the years, including the looming, unused bell tower that overlooked the campus like a silhouette.
“Considering last year’s gift was a t-shirt from the local flea market, I hate to tell you that your track record isn’t working favorably,” Eve states casually as she shoulders her way in through the front doors, leaving them swinging behind her.
Brit protests, trying to catch up to her and fumbling when the door clips her side. “You said you liked cats!”
“I do like cats,” Eve says, “but I don’t love wearing them.”
Brit jogs in front of Eve, hands raised in surrender. “Okay. So last year I forgot—”
“Obviously.”
“—but I’m telling you,” she continues without pause, “this year’s will blow you away.”
Eve bursts out laughing, enjoying the feeling that is such a stark contrast to the normal, haunting fear that lingers around her heart like a dark overcast. Brit always has that effect on Eve– the feeling of relieving freedom.
Brit tosses her hair over her shoulder, the long ponytail like a firery waterfall of curls. Her lightly tanned skin sticks out from the pale winter faces of the rest of the town, and when she wrinkles her nose, all the freckles that spatter her cheeks scrunch up as well. The black leather jacket she wears, snug over her favorite band t-shirt, fits to her curves and stops right at the base of her tight, lowrise jeans that accentuate her long legs. Her hazel eyes, always bright with a challenge, glint excitedly as she turns and continues down the hall, expecting Eve to follow suit.
Compared to the glamour that is Britney Dennings, Eve always felt like the short, invisible best friend. With her long dark brown hair that tumbles down to her waist in waves, and her stormy grey eyes that are always hidden behind dark, sleepy circles, Eve sometimes wondered if people confused her with the shadows.
The girls had been as close as two can be since childhood, yet Eve had never told her about the traumatizing nightmares that get worse with each year. Brit had always thought the reason Eve spent so much time in hospital as a child and her time out of school was due to an extreme immune deficiency. When middle school came, Brit assumed that the reason her best friend could never sleep over was due to paranoid parents.
Eve never dared to correct her.
“Moving on,” Brit declares, breaking Eve out of her thoughts. “I may be slightly late to your house after school.”
Eve frowns as she opens her locker. “Why?”
Twisting a gold ring nervously around her pinky finger, her eyes dart to the floor. “I may have… um, scored detention with Dr. Brooder after school,” she pauses, ending the statement on a high note like a question.
Eve sighs and pulls her Trig book from the locker. “What did you do this time?”
“I skipped Physics with Brad again,” Brit winces.
Trying to ignore the bubbling frustration, Eve fights to keep her face clear of the distaste for Brit’s new fling. “I told you before,” Eve says, “and I will tell you again now. I do not like Brad.”
Brit pouts, sticking a hand on her hip. “Just because you don’t like him, doesn’t mean I shouldn’t. Besides, we wouldn’t have gotten caught if the Dr. hadn’t been hitting on the Spanish teacher in the hall again.”
Eve sighs, disappointed. “Whatever, Brit. Just come when you can tonight.”
Brit’s face falls, but before she can apologize, a sinking feeling causes Eve’s stomach to drop. A feeling like needles punctures her skull, sending an explosion of pain through her mind. Gripping the edge of her locker so hard her knuckles turn white, she bites the inside of her cheek to refrain from screaming out, tasting the metallic iron of blood.
A hand rests on her back, but it feels like a weight pressing down, down, down, crushing her spine and grinding her bones together. “Eve?” Brit’s hushed whisper sounds like a distant melody, sweet and not entirely real. “Eve, are you okay?”
Suddenly, images flash through her mind like a slideshow going a million miles an hours, scorching the blackness behind her eyes. The pictures fly too fast, her brain only catching and registering a small few. A knife, silver bladed with a ruby rune encrusted into the hilt. A shadow growing from blackness, twisting and thriving, building into the figure of a man. Blood, running in rivers down the streets, pouring from the sky like rain.
We are coming. The words shatter her thoughts, scream at her from the darkness. The horrifying images continue to race by like a medley of terrors. You can not run, Evelynn.
As if someone pressed a stop button, all of a sudden the pain is gone, as well as the voices and the images. Holding herself up on her locker door to refrain from crumpling due to exhaustion, she gasps in a breath.
With a clear mind, Eve realizes Brit’s hand is still pressed against her back. Turning towards her, Brit stares with a shocked expression, mouth agape. “What was that?” She whispers, voice hushed.
Feeling her pulse slowly slow to a normal rate, Eve shakes her head numbly. Never before had such a feeling overcome her, not during the daytime.
“I don’t know.”
~
A/N: Thank you so much to those who have supported my book so far- the encouragement means a ton! How are you liking the story so far? Let me know below XD
Xoxo, Alyssa
p.s. I had to finish this in a period of ten minutes, so sorry if the end seems rushed ;P