Evelyn Johnson
A name that held so much power, but yet none at all. The name that was so easily replaced in every news paper article and award and medal. It was never in front of anyone else's name, always put second, or behind the others.
Evelyn...
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"In Their Hands"
Creeping down the stairs, many hours later after the fiasco that I had had with my mother, I was not shocked to say the least. Looking through the window that was beside the front door, was just enough to tell me how much I wasn't included in this family.
None of this was out of the ordinary though. This had happened a couple of times before, so none of this was new. Anything that happened to me was never new. It was always a reoccurring thing with me. Being left out of friendship groups and family dinners was just a usual thing that happened to me, and I just lived with it all the time.
The grumble in my stomach was headed in the wrong direction to my mind. I didn't want to step in there, even though I hadn't eaten in hours. I hadn't eaten all day, if you will. Apart from maybe the breakfast that I had scoffed down this morning, it had been just enough to get me through the entire day. It had served it purpose just like I always did.
Taking my gaze away from the window, I quickly turned around to see someone emerging from the hallway that lead into the kitchen. The one person that I had been hoping it wasn't had just stopped walking, as their gaze met my own, terrified eyes. I knew the words that would be coming out of his mouth would make me cry myself to sleep for nights on end, while he went out to party and moved on with his life.
I was always stuck in some vicious cycle, whether it was with my mother and I's arguments and apologies, or my father remembering I existed for a second, but for hours I was forgotten, while my siblings moved on with their lives, and I always stuck, overthinking what I could have done or said to have prevented me from being in tears under the safety blanket that I called my bed sheets.
"What are you doing here, standing like that?" not a bad start, I'd have to say. One of the better starts to a conversation we had had. "Nothing" I murmured, twirling my fingers together, wrapping my wrists around one another as I cast my gaze down and away from the burning fire that was resting behind the eyes of my big brother.
"Admiring my car, I see" I had always had a weird knack for cars, but I never said a word. If my mother caught wind of it, my life would be hell. Maybe my farther would take more notice in me, but my mother had always wanted me to be like Stella, a girly girl. Girls that were effortlessly gorgeously and loved being dressed up.
That wasn't me and it never had been. To my mother, I pleased and did what she wanted me to be, until the fragile egg that she wrapped herself in, broke, and I would be walking around them, afraid to make the wrong move. Eventually, she would piece herself back together, whether it was a whole week, or only a couple of days, she would apologize, and we would be back in full swing with one another.
I didn't answer my brother because I didn't know how. He would say I was jealous if I told him that my eye was on his car, and tell me that I wanted to steal my own brothers car. If I said no, he would tell me all the ways that I was ungrateful and should know everything about how much he was worth in the world of football and girlfriends.
