Saint Palisade's

[ 8.5 ]

AIR  was subjective at this party. Evelynn could barely breathe. She had had a few more drinks than she should've. Not to mention that she was drinking too much, but more on that later. She stumbled out of the house, head spinning and vomit forthcoming.

Atlas wasn't too far behind her. He had been keeping an eye on her since the start of the party. He watched her knock back three solo cups full of Grey Goose. He almost tripped on the door ledge but he made it to the patio. The party had been shepherded inside to avoid any noise complaints. He watched her drunkenly walk to the old swingset.

"Decided to come out here all by yourself?" Atlas called out while walking toward her.

Evelynn grasped the chain links of the swing and tried to rest her head on it. "I couldn't breathe in there."

"Maybe you couldn't breathe because you drank too much..." He suggested, taking a seat on the swing next to her.

"You know, I only drink so I don't have to think about anything."

Atlas kicked his leg to move his swing. "What don't you want to think about, anyway?" He looked up at the sky only now realizing the stars were bright and clear.

Evelynn paused to think. "I don't want to think about being home alone all the time, I don't want to think about love, and basically, I don't want to think about life."

"Evelynn... I know you're not sober and you probably won't remember this—"

"Bring it on, barista boy!"

Atlas bit his lip. "But maybe you should get some help... maybe get a therapist? Someone to talk to."

She laughed. "Already tried. As soon as my parents found out? Game over." She made an 'x' with her arms, leaning backward, threatening to fall off of the swing.

Atlas's eyes widened. He caught her by the arm and pulled her back up.

"You can always talk to me, Evelynn. Or the girls...? There's gotta be a way you could get help. You need it."

"They don't need to be bothered about my problems. Nobody does. Not even you." She tapped his nose with her index finger and grinned.

Atlas frowned. "I doubt that they would feel bothered by you venting to them."

"It doesn't matter. I'll be dead by 20 anyway." Evelynn smiled, eyes closed. "Every time I make an effort to change... the world just comes right back and slaps me. Every time I try to talk to someone I get shamed. So that must mean my thoughts are not important."

"If you keep thinking—and drinking like this—for sure. Take it from me. Bottling up your problems will not help you at all."

Evelynn's hand went up to cover her mouth.

"What? You okay?" Atlas put his hand on her shoulder, trying to see her eyes.

She gagged a bit, trying to hold it in. She moved her hand away from her mouth and let her vomit go.

Atlas watched it all progress in slow motion. He dreadfully looked down at his Vans, which were now covered in... well, let's spare the details. He sighed, knowing what he had to do now and that his Vans were now rendered unusable. He squatted down in front of Evelynn.

"Get on. I'll carry you inside."

Evelynn groaned but laid her body on Atlas's back.

Atlas swooped his arms under her legs and headed into the house. Evelynn's head rested in the crook of Atlas's neck. "Are people this heavy when they're sleeping?"