Born To Die

EVE

The howls of the eerie winds snap me back to reality. The reality where my dad is an alcoholic, my mother a drug addict and my brother a homicidal schizophrenic; that reality. Some days I wonder why I even bother going back to the house. Like, today.

Most of the time, the alcoholic, Joseph, slept and the drug addict, Courtney, was out of the house. However, I'd be lucky if the schizophrenic, August, wasn't home since he spends most of his time fighting the walls in the house. August and I used to be really close and he was my protector. All that changed when he was diagnosed with schizophrenia last winter and then he changed into someone I didn't recognize anymore. At first, he wasn't violent but soon he started to mistake me for the people he hallucinated.

My mother AKA drug addict AKA Courtney was always a drug addict. It's easy to deal with her because she usually isn't home and probably at a nightclub giving lap dances to old men who don't know what to do with their money. I've never seen her sober since I was 8 and that lasted a few hours. Every time she's home, the world loses color. Courtney looks at me like I'm the reason why everything in her life is going downhill. If she was gambling and she lost money, she'd come home and tell me that it's my fault. I started getting used to it so I don't pay her any mind now.

Saved the best for the last; Joseph. Joseph is the worst; he spent time in jail for battery when I was in middle school and I had to live with my aunt, Tessa, and he is the abusive one. Whenever Courtney came home vulnerable, he'd grab his empty liquor bottles and, well you can imagine what he did to her. She never acted back, though. Anytime he did that, she'd just grab his wallet and leave for days, and sometimes even months.

He hit me a few times. I like to think he just mistook me for her but deep down I know he knew exactly what he was doing when he grabbed me by my hair. He knew exactly what he was doing when he grabbed me and threw me at my dresser, shattering the only framed photos that we had as a family. The bruises lasted a month and CPS was sent to my house numerous times but since I'm still with them, anyone can come to the conclusion that CPS doesn't help.

The walk from hell to the house is awfully long—hell being school—which is unusual since I literally live ten minutes away. Then I look up, search for the sign only to see the wrong one. Panic surges through me and I swear I'm about to throw up, but luckily my Prince Charming saves me in time.

"Eve! What're you doing around here?"

I meet Foster Sullivan's eyes. The light blue colored eyes that blended finely with his dark complexion. His dark brown hair was messy but fit right in with his mysterious and popular football player aesthetic. I never actually talk to him unless we are forced to by teachers or friends. I also avoid him at school because during freshman year, I found him making out with an older girl at Lyssa Walker's party which led to him constantly trying to be friends with me so I'd keep his secret. But who did I have to share his secret with?

"Looks like I made the wrong turn, Foster," I quickly say, turning back towards Felnork Street. I honestly feel bad for being like this to him but Foster and I were very different people and it's best if I don't meddle with his type.

As I walk away, I feel his eyes shooting daggers at my back and I could feel him fighting the urge to say something to me. Then, he grabs my arm. "What?"

"Eve, I need to talk to you. It's really important and I'd really appreciate it if you actually listened to me," he says. His grip on my arm is gentle but firm. "I'll leave you alone forever if you listen to me now."

The offer seems tempting but Foster isn't the type to keep his promises. "Fine, but I will literally break your arm if you don't keep your promise."

A smirk forms on his face and he snorts. "Okay, princess."

He drops my arm and starts walking. As I walk, I take some moments to process what had just happened. Foster Sullivan was practically begging me to talk to him? The Foster Sullivan that is infamous for making out with girls old enough to be his mother? It feels like the universe just wanted me to suffer more. I look up and he's in front of a gray, three-story house. Its picket fences are brand new and the shutters on the window are tinted a nice sage green.

"Okay, you might not believe anything I'll say but I really don't know who to tell except you, since you're really great at keeping secrets, and... I just need to tell someone," he says. He seems nervous now, not like the Foster who had just called me princess a few minutes ago.

"Can you make it quick?" I say. Honestly, I couldn't care less about what he had to say but I was willing to find out because my life needed more surprises than the ones I was already getting at home.

"There's a ghost inhabiting my body."

Is he on something?