Underage

[38] Happy Birthday Evan

[38] Happy Birthday Evan

I scream his name. My voice cracks at the end, but he doesn't flinch. He empties another bottle and swallows another pill. His beautiful eyes cloud over. They're a muddy green—a terrible color—and too dark for his pale skin. I take a step forward, reaching my hands out towards him, but I don't move any closer. I step again, his bed moving further away.

His lips form my name but he never once sees me. He presses another bottle to his lips. I watch as the brown liquid falls down his throat. The empty bottle hangs from his fingertips until he can't hold on any longer. It shatters on the floor, the shards later to be imbedded in his brother's knees and his mother's feet.

I cry and I scream and I beg for him to listen to me, to look at me.

But he empties a bottle into his hands. The white pills fill his palm. He's lying on his back in the middle of his bed. He's looking at the ceiling. All of a sudden, his life doesn't matter. His mind whirls with possibilities. What is waiting for him after this last handful? Will it hurt? Will it be quick? Will his family miss him?

I want to hate him. I want to bring him back and kill him again. I want him to know the hurt he inflicted on us, but a part of me thinks he already knows. He was always happy, at least that's what his face showed. He was smart and kind. He was my friend. He meant a lot to me and I meant even more to him. He had a family who loved him, who cared for him, who wanted the best for him. He had so many more days to live.

Instead, I wake with a scream and a sob. I wake to an empty bed. I wake to no text messages, no calls. I wake to find that he's still gone.

It's been two days of ringtones and beeps that cut off my words before I'm done speaking. Two days of knocking and ringing the doorbell only to have the wrong brother answer. Everett's words spew nonsense about his brother needing time. Time for what? To get through tomorrow? To finally bury his brother? To decide what he wants?

I shouldn't have opened my mouth on that beach. I should have made up some name, told him someone else took me to Kinley. I know what Evan's name does to him and yet I didn't hesitate to answer his question. I wanted him to know. I wanted him to be able to hear his brother's name and not run away. But he did, like a little kid who didn't get his way.

Sweat drips over my body and everything hurts. My legs are shaking, my knees keep giving out, and my heart is pounding in my ears. My eyes roam my face as I stare in the mirror. My cheeks are red and my mascara is smeared beneath my eyes. I turn to the side, watching as my body goes wide in the long mirror. What did I expect from one hour of working out at the gym? Was I supposed to be magically skinnier? Somehow, I was expecting to see a change.

Grace came to my apartment early this morning, hours after I woke suddenly and couldn't find my dreams again. She forced me into leggings and a large shirt before taking me to the gym. There are people who like the gym, who like working out with others to push them to do their best. I am not one of those people. I'm humiliated as I sit on a bike, my t-shirt clinging to the rolls of my stomach and back. Everyone's watching me, judging me.

The skinnier girls watch me from the corner of their eyes, or through the mirror, as they pump out squats. The boys' eyes skip me as they make their way to the prettier girls whose breath doesn't come out in pants after just a few minutes of cardio.

My own eyes move from person to person, knowing they're watching me as I struggle to push up the arm machines that are set to the lowest weight. I try to ignore them, but I can't.

I'm relieved when we finally leave and she drops me off at my apartment.

Magnus greets me at the door, he licks my face and runs throughout the apartment. His yips as he jumps up to my chest bring a smile to my face—the first one today. I fill his bowls with water and food and make my way through the first door on the right.