Goodbye, Evan

21

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Did he get home safe?

He was drunk. And alone. So is he safe? Did he get the bus? Did Georgia pick him up? Did he go back inside the house?

He's safe. He has to be. He has to be.

But there's no way for me to know for sure, so all I can do is wait.

I'm back to gossamer, to walls that don't want me and floors that barely hold my non-existent weight. I'm running towards the doors the second I comprehend what just happened, but it comes into play: the same force that always stopped me from screaming and touching and returning home keeps me locked in this prison now, apart from Theo and alone only with painful, rolling thoughts.

I range from five years old to fifteen to fifty without even realising it, running the length of silent and empty corridors or just lying on my back and staring up at the filthy ceiling. Sometimes screaming, sometimes sobbing, even though my death won't let me make a sound.

Theo. Theo, Theo, Theo.

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I think about all the things I could've said to keep him wanting me.

"There's nobody I care about more than you." "You're all I have left." "The fact that you mean so much to me is the reason I'm doing this."

"You are worth it."

Sometimes angry things, too. I call him selfish and childish and petty and demanding and petulant in my head. "You haven't lost like I have - of course you don't understand." "We barely know each other." "Stop relying on people to make yourself happy and start working out your own fucking issues."

But it all just comes back around to how fucking much I wish I was at his side.

I don't know how time passes, but it's daytime when I feel a tug.

I'm sitting near the cupboard where I found James (they turned it into a classroom years ago, leaving the memory of what happened to him in my mind, the mind of the man who assaulted him and maybe even James himself) (although I doubt it). At first, I ignore it.

But then I feel it again, slightly more insistent. Then again, leaving me slightly nauseated due to the distance.

I stand and head towards the doors, slightly lessening the yanking in my gut by doing so. The front doors won't open so I just sit with my back against them and wonder who's calling me. Either it's Theo, or it's another kid and I'm back to not existing for good.

About twenty minutes later, the lock starts to click and I leap to my feet, footsteps not even echoing. The door's opened by some staff member and the students start to file in.

And that's when I hear the words: I miss him. I don't want to be alone. I want him.

Five minutes later, I see a head poke out from over the rest. Black hoodie, headphones, dark curls spilling out from underneath.

Theo.

He's right about me being a coward. Because the second I see him, I turn and run.

I can't face him. Can't face it: the possibility that I won't exist to him anymore.

I run to my locker, which also happens to be his, and wait there for him, doing my best to ready myself. It doesn't really work.