Evie

Chapter 3 - Abandoned

EVIE

"Genevieve."

Drip drip drip

"Genevieve? Hello?"

Thud thud thud

"Can you hear me, honey?"

I could hear my heart beating. It was very fast against my chest. Maybe it wants to rip me apart and climb out. Maybe it'll even fly away, leaving me dead.

Dead just like Mommy. I giggled.

"I think she's still in shock." A feminine voice said softly. So comforting. So different from Mommy's ugly, rough voice that always yells. "I already called her father. Said he's coming."

Drip drip drip

"Hey!" An old man's voice. Someone took the soda bottle from my hands. Someone was angry at me. Of course, they were. Someone's always mad at me. I was a bad girl. "You can't pour the soda on the floor."

"Let her be, Dave."

"Yeah, sure, Sophia. Leave her be and leave it to me to clean up the goddamn mess."

"Jesus, calm the hell down. She just lost her mother. She's a little girl."

"Little girl, my ass. We've both seen her record. She's a goddamn psycho. With a little girl like that, no wonder that poor woman killed herself."

"DAVE!"

The voices faded.

Poor woman killed herself. Hmm.

Just like my classmate Laura's big sister. She jumped off a building and her body splattered on a sidewalk. Everyone talked about it. I didn't like Laura but I knew she loved yellow and rainbows before her sister. But after, the real Laura was gone. Somebody sad possessed her.

Would that happen to me, too? Would I be different? Even if I don't even like yellow?

Purple is the best color. I liked red but not anymore. Blue and green are fine.

I didn't think so. Laura loved her nice big sister. Mommy was mean and I killed her with my big, selfish mouth.

I was already always sad and angry anyway.

It was different so I should be fine. Daddy would come get me and we'll live happily ever after.

Perhaps I'll say sorry to Mommy's grave first. Mr. Powers always told me no one deserved to die, not even bullies. He told me so after I let out that I wanted that stupid bully Tommy dead.

I secretly still think Tommy should be dead anyway. But Mr. Powers was an adult so he knows better than me, I guess.

A finger poked my arm and I lifted my head from the armrest. I was curled up in a rocking chair in a room. Toys were littered on the floor and the walls were colorful. They said they brought in kids here so we'd be more comfortable. It didn't work for me. I was eight years old. Daddy said eight was too old to play with toys.