Evelyn and Her Wisdom

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"You need to eat something."
     Rafe stared up indignantly from his bottle of beer. Despite having doused in 8 so far, his mind was nearly devoid of any fog. Rather, it was abnormally sharp.
     "I just ate two hours ago."
     "You ate three pills of Xanax." Evelyn promptly pointed out. Her dark, stoic eyes flickered towards the kitchen table littered with scratch marks. There was a tiny ziplock bag filled with a white, crystallized substance that she automatically identified to be some sort of drug. Beside that was an empty pill bottle.
     He shook his head and waved her away. His mind was clear but his physical ability were lackluster at most. "It still counts. Anything that goes down your mouth and into your stomach is something you eat."
       "Get up. Now."
       He remained seated to the chair, his eyes wondering over to a little girl beside him. She had curly, golden locks a pretty blue dress. Almost doll-like. She was adorable if not for the large, evident bullet wound in her chest. She returned the gaze, her arms folded.
      "What?" He asked. Evelyn stared on, confused though expression unchanging. She followed her gaze to an empty corner in the room.
     The deceased are here. And once again, they are plaguing him.
      The little girl stared intently back at the women, longing showing in her eyes before she blinked them away. She will never return to the living world, so it's better to stop wishing for something that is impossible.
      Qadira retuned her gaze back to the man and jutted herself chin out towards Evelyn. "You should go for a walk outside. It's rude to turn down her offer after her long journey here."
      "It's two blocks."
      "Doesn't matter. Stop pissing about how shitty your goddamn miserable life is and live it until it's no longer with you."
      He was about to scold her for utilizing such crude language unseemly for a 10 year old child until he realized she's been dead for 13 years. Technically, she was 23 years old. He held his tongue and brought his hands up to his face, massaging his eyes.
      The only reason sleep deprivation and excessive alcohol consumption hasn't killed him off yet was because he had superpowers. If he was a normal human, he would be six feet under by now. Just thinking about such a tasteful future made his mouth water.
       The hope that he would die soon was more fulfilling then materialistic food. It's better to die now than live a meaningless life filled with obstacles with no success. Failure is embedded into his code and to stray away from that ideology is setting himself up for disappointment.
      His belief that his existence is pathetic is something he runs on. It's the thing that kills him but it's also keeping him alive.
      "Five more minutes."
      "No. We're leaving now." She surprisingly made rather long strides to his position despite being awfully short and harshly grabbing his arm. Evelyn...Evelyn...what was it about her again?
       Water manipulation...no, that was Jill. Metal? Nope, Mavis. Felix could emit pain, Nico can shift appearance...Evelyn could...she could kill someone by touch.
      His body absentmindedly followed her lead, the small female taking massive advantage of his faraway mind to get him out of his chair. Suddenly, he pulled back and stared at her expectantly. It was the most focus Evelyn has ever seen him in...well, months. He pointed a shaky finger at her. She maintained the same, hardened expression.
     "You," he dumbly began. The little rational part in his brain scolded him for being such an idiot. A comment that was now drowned out by such excitement. He had forgotten what happiness felt like.
      She inclined her head slowly, as if urging him to speak to which he obliged. Dark, straight, long locks covered the sides of her face, almost like curtains.
     "You can kill me..." he murmured. I mean, he has considered the possibility but...but she's here, right now! One touch and boom, fatal. Even James could heal him. He'll be sent to limbo where Qadira is and then...and then—
      Evelyn took a step forward, her straight lips pulled into a small frown. "Sorry, what?"
      He lifted his twitchy hands from his sides and latched them onto her shoulders. The female barely flinched but her confused face quickly morphed to concern. Was he beginning to smoke? Is he high right now?
      "You can kill me!"
       A took her a moment to catch on. And when it finally did, a large pit in her stomach formed. Her eyes widened since the first time in this encounter and she expertly dislodged his grip on him. His hands reached out into empty air. Confusion replaced glee. Qadira looked on with minor amusement.
      "I'm not going to kill you." She stated blankly. Her usual, expressionless expression molded quickly black onto her face, like nothing ever happened. But something did. A crack lined the giant barrier that she do desperately hid behind. It was something about him. Something about him that unnerved her deeply though she couldn't exactly place why.
      Maybe it was his love for death where she hated it. Where she was so used to people straying away from her she rarely met anyone who willing stayed in close proximity to the likes of her. Even Maven, one of her closest friends cringed away the first time he caught news of her ability.
      To have someone who opens it welcomingly is rare. So rare that people being afraid of her is the new normal. This is the new weird.
     "Huh? Why not?"
     "Do you think I want to use my ability? Especially on you?" She asked incredulously.
      His face drew an obvious blank. "But...it's good practice, right?"
      "Practices are things you can do over again. If I kill you, you're gone. For good."
      "But..."
      She didn't know what he expected of her. To just waltz and accept her duty to kill him? They've known eachother for far too long to ask her of that. It must be getting bad. Bad to the point where to keep yourself going was to drown your body in fluids and to consume pill after pill.
      Evelyn wasn't known for her talkative personality. But she was a good listener when need be.
       Suddenly, Rafe dropped his head. He wasn't about to cry, no. He wasted a considerable amount of tears the past few years where none stayed. Pieces of heart has been cut off, only leaving the essence of his being. But without the rest, he is a hollow shell.

"I need help."

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