As It Was (COMPLETED) (wattys2023)

Prologue

When all else is gone, there is hope.

My father had spoken the same words with a hardened expression for as long as I could remember, likely reminiscing of his days on the battlefield, when that was all that kept him, and his platoon, alive; the hope that they would make it back home. The hope that all the casualties and anxiety would be outweighed by the eventual outcome. For my father, that hope he held on to was what shaped him into the man he was, he liked to say, and was the reason for my namesake.

Only now, I felt anything but hopeful. Sitting crossed legged in the tenth psychiatrist office this summer was the last thing I wanted to be doing right now. I had no desire to drag myself out of bed most days, let alone shower and sit in this eerie silent room, jumping at the slightest of sounds.

The next school year started in three days; hence why my mother was set on getting me to talk again. The reality my parents didn't want to face was this year would be different. There wouldn't be any cute first day of senior year pictures. The tears shed over their beautiful child growing up. Because of their refusal to face this, my parents insisted I needed to spend this evening in the presence of Eliana Bellecourt, a plump, middle aged blonde woman with brown eyes so warm and welcoming it was kind of hard to hate her.

"Everly." The southern drawl filled the quiet room as she shifted in the leather recliner opposite of me, crossing one of her large thighs over the other, a laptop resting on the arm of the chair, her gaze on me. "I would first like to express my condolences for those lost. Your mother tells me you were close with many of the victims."

Victims.

Though she said it with a soft sincerity, she might as well have spat them out venomously. Because to everyone outside of Lincoln Heights, that's all my dead peers were. Victims of a horrible, unspeakable tragedy.

At least that was what news stations and papers had been reading for the last three months.

"I understand all of this must be quite difficult for you to comprehend." she continued, figuring my hunched figure, face curtained by my greasy, unwashed dark blonde hair and closed mouth was a sure sign I wasn't in any mood to speak At least this psychiatrist was intelligent enough to not try and continue to pry. The last dozen had come to the outstanding realization that I was a lost cause after multiple sessions of not a word spoken.

It wasn't like I spoke much at home either; thus my mother's worry and persistent behavior. I hadn't spoken unless necessary all summer. It had gotten to a point that I had considered if I'd be able to talk if the time came that I had the desire to again. My father had been too lost in the hurricane of destruction left in the wake of the massacre to even begin to try and worry about my well-being. It had been his guns used to pick off a quarter of the faculty and twice that amount of my classmates. Most days he wouldn't even look at me.

"I hope you understand that your parents and I only want to see you feel safe enough to talk about what happened. To come to terms with it and learn to cope with the aftermath of it." she shut her Mac, leaning forward so her elbow dug into her thigh, her index finger pressed against the dimple in her chin. "I don't want you to think of me as a psychiatrist, a doctor. I want you to think of me as a friend. Someone you can confide in with no judgement. However long that may take."

Her lips, painted an awful shade of purple, washed her out. It was obvious she'd thrown on a quick layer of foundation, as the color shifted from a darker ivory to a pale white just under her chin. Her hair, clipped back in a professional bun, was so tight it pulled the outer edges of her eyes back and resulted in a squint. Months ago, I would have laughed at her desperate attempt to look young, but now I couldn't even find it in me to care. Not about her. Not about anything.

"I understand you lost not only close friends in the shooting but your brothers as well." she said the last part with caution, as if she thought it may send me spiraling. For as smart of a woman as she was, I couldn't understand why she'd say something so unbelievably stupid. I had lost my brothers, but she had seen enough of our story to know the truth. "They did something incredibly sickening, but they were still your brothers, Everly. And I know that as wrong as it makes you to think it, that is the root of where all these emotions are stemming from. Not just the anger and shock, but the hurt, the confusion. How could the boys who used to chase you around and jokingly torment you turn into cold blooded killers?"

Hearing the words that circled my thoughts daily aloud made my fingers curl into a tight fist on my lap, tears threatening to escape.

"I am here, Everly." Dr. Bellecourt continued softly. "Whenever you're ready to speak on it, I am here."

My mother had said the same thing for the last hundred days as she begged me to eat, forced me out of bed so she could bathe me. I had become a zombie, the shell of the once kindhearted, athletic daughter she'd raised. What neither her nor Dr. Bellecourt understood was that I couldn't speak. Every time I tried to talk about what happened, I felt as if I were back there. Cowering under my desk as I listened to the thunderous bangs ringing through the classroom to my back. Standing before my brothers as they pointed both automatics at me, trembling themselves as I had never been part of their plan. The blood that soaked my hand as Miles bled out across my chest and stomach, then was drenched again when I drove the knife into my brother's neck.

I couldn't sleep at night. I couldn't breathe. The quietest of sounds sent me back to that day. Everywhere I walked, I could feel eyes follow me, anticipating that at any second something would trigger me and I'd go on a murderous rampage as my brothers had.

Nobody could help me, because the three people I needed were dead and in prison. Nobody could feel what I felt, because I was caught between the two worlds the doctor before me had laid out. Some warped part of me deep down and long since buried, did love my brothers, but I hated them even more. And for the rest of my life I would have to relive the day that my world caved in on itself, and every day I'd have those eyes trailing me everywhere I went, wondering when I'd finally break and follow in their cold, bloody footsteps.