Evan Farrington's Confession | ✔️

eleven

"Ev! Dinner!" Suzanne called.

Evan rested her head back on her headboard and closed her eyes. "No thanks, Mum," she yelled back, fighting to keep her voice from sounding strained.

She took a long drink from her mug of tea and waited for the footsteps to ascend the stairs. They didn't. She tilted her head and closed her book, her mug hovering by her lip. Suzanne was still downstairs. Evan's mouth twisted into a slight frown. Her stomach growled.

(don't even think about going downstairs)

She listened intently. Suzanne was in the lounge with Eric.

"It would help, Eric." Evan heard her mother say. She hated the begging note in her voice. "Please. Just come and have dinner with us. I've set you a place."

Evan gritted her teeth. The living room door softly clicked closed then a few moments later there was the faint sound of cutlery clashing with plates. Her chest stung. Had they-

(forgotten about you disappointment never wanted you anyway)

Evan stood up, carefully rearranged her duvet and pillow then walked downstairs. The sounds of dinner got louder as she neared the kitchen: scraping chairs, filling cups, George talking about effectively nothing. Suzanne barely looked up when she entered.

The table was set with a pot full of risotto in the middle. But Evan's place was empty and Eric's place was set. Her father wasn't sitting at it though.

(wouldn't it be sad if you-)

She pretended not to notice the change, averting her suddenly tingling eyes from the table and getting a bowl from the cupboard. She could feel her family watching her as she served herself some risotto. George had stopped talking mid-sentence. The unfinished point hung precariously in the air. Evan fought to keep herself from slamming the cutlery drawer after getting a fork.

("You could do more than slam it.")

Evan gasped. It was Caligula. She whirled round and flicked her eyes around the kitchen, scanning every nook and cranny for the shadows. The cutlery drawer was pushed closed by her back as she retreated into the counter. But they weren't there, at least not in the physical sense. That was something. But the voice. It sounded every bit as real as George's had before she had entered the room.

("Remember the knife?")

Commodus. Evan closed her eyes and focused on calming her breathing. She could ignore them.

"Ev? Do you feel dizzy?" asked Suzanne.

A searing pain gouged through Evan's head, so intense and unyielding that Evan yelped and opened her eyes.

"Evan?" said her mother, putting down her knife and fork. Why did she need a knife? It was risotto, there was nothing bigger than a slice of mushroom.

Marcus sighed and helped himself to another spoonful of food. "Evan's finally gone loop-the-loop."

Evan didn't hear him. The knife. What had she done with the bleeding knife? There was no way she had just left it there on the kitchen floor. She opened her eyes and looked at where it must have fallen. There was nothing there. No matter how much she wanted to, Evan couldn't remember picking it up.

("Tip the food onto the floor.")

It was Caligula this time. The sentence was sung rather than spoken. Evan bit her tongue and focused her ears on her grandad's chat beginning to pick up again. Something about birds. He was always talking about birds.

("You know what we can do, Evan. Wouldn't you rather it was you doing it instead of us?")

Evan drew in a hitching breath. Then she rushed out of the kitchen, hoping against hope that the Emperors, wherever they were, would follow her. There was a colossal dong  from the kitchen, like standing next to a huge bell. Suzanne screamed. Evidently the Emperors had not followed.

Evan stood still with her full bowl, just out of sight of the kitchen. She could hear her mother making her signature 'what-a-mess' noise, exasperated tutting and sighing.

("Bad decision, Evan.")

Commodus's voice sounded like how Evan would expect a dragon to speak. It rumbled from deep in whatever passed for his chest. Evan poked her head around the kitchen door. The pot of risotto was lying overturned on the tiled floor. Rice and mushrooms strewn everywhere. George was staring straight ahead, rare silence heavy on his face. Marcus was still eating. He apparently hadn't realised anything was wrong. Evan constantly wondered how he managed to remain so skinny.

"Mum? What happened?" Evan asked. She put her bowl down on the counter and crouched down to pick up the pot. It released an avalanche of risotto spilling out in all directions. She put it on the hob and used a handful of kitchen roll to scoop up some of the rice and dump it in the compost.

Suzanne took a shuddery sip of her white wine. "The-The bowl just slid off the table. Off the placemat for Pete's sake. And it- it tipped in the air. How is that even...?"

Evan knew the question was directed at her but she pretended not to have heard. She dumped her kitchen roll in the bin and got a surface spray from a cupboard.

"Marcus help your sister please," Suzanne said weakly. Marcus grunted and didn't stand. He put down his fork and surveyed the scene.

"What the hell happened?" he asked. Suzanne made a frustrated noise and took another drink from her glass.

"Evan, go and have your tea. Don't worry about the mess," Suzanne said.

Evan picked up her bowl from the counter but didn't move to leave the kitchen. There was a place set. Even if it wasn't her place, it was still a place. She could sit with her family, or at least the portion of her family that attended meals. They wouldn't forget about her if she sat with them to eat. George hadn't finished yet and Marcus was digging through the cupboards for the crackers. She could just-

(remember why you don't?)

Evan didn't. But she left anyway. 

--

Thanks for reading! I look forward to seeing you in the next chapter (wink). 

Love always,

-pinknaails

xx