Evangeline (Unedited)

03

B R E A K F A S T

I wake up in the softest bed I have ever been in. The pillows feel like clouds, and I never want to get up, even when Tommy knocks on my door to tell me that he and one of his other brothers had breakfast ready for me; the oldest, Alessandro. I stare at the door for a few minutes trying to recover my bearings and I start to piece together where I am. My new bedroom.

There is a white, wooden desk beside the bed with a matching chair and fake succulents on top. Antique paintings on the walls, exposed log beams supporting the roof and in turn making the room look very cozy. I push myself off of the bed and wander around, trailing my hands along every surface and swearing quietly when I accidentally give myself a sliver. I stroll to the window and look outside, admiring the scenery which was much different than my old home. Instead of drug exchanges and run-down neighborhoods, I can see a distant stream, wild cows, and hills. I relish in the beauty of it all until I realize that the house I'm in does not look much like New York City—where I was supposed to be going.

"Evangeline?" A knock on my door startles me, and I breathe into my hand to see if my breath stinks. When I can rule out that possibility, I quickly hurry to the door and slightly open it, seeing who is there first. When I see it is just Tommy, I open it wider. "I was just making sure that everything is okay. Is it?"

"Yeah," I declare unconvincingly, and then nod enthusiastically to try and prove myself. I, for the second time, debate telling him I don't go by Evangeline, but the clarification suddenly feels incredibly claustrophobic. Vulnerable, maybe. So I push my irritation at that name to the side and focus on him. "Yes, I'm very okay. This room is lovely, thank you."

"It's just temporary, but I'm glad you like it." My smile falters. "Shall we head down to the dining room?"

I watch as he steps away from the door, allowing me space to exit. My mind reels at what he means. It's just temporary. The thoughts running through my head are interrupted just as soon as they start when a man turns the corner, and we pause face-to-face with him.

He goes to say something but his mouth closes when his eyes fall on me. He doesn't say anything for what feels like hours until Tommy slaps a hand on his shoulder, and turns to face me too. Both of them tower over me—and I am by no means short. Average height, at least. I stand at around 5'5, but I still hope to grow some more. I'm only 14, after all.

"Evangeline, meet Wilbur. He's your third eldest brother." Tommy tells me with a smile. I force one on my face and fidget with my hands. When Tommy figures out that neither of us were snapping out of the trances we had walked into, he speaks again, turning his head to look at Wilbur. "I didn't realize you were coming today. I was under the assumption it was just to be Alessandro, Evangeline and I."

"I- Uh," He stutters and blinks slowly. I look at my feet. He looks back towards me and runs a hand through his floppy, black hair. My eyes were attached to the many tattoos running along his arms, and a certain one caught my attention. E.M.A. My initials. He notices my stare and looks at his arm, a small smile creeps onto his face. He rolls up his sleeves the rest of the way, and my eyes direct onto his other arm, where I see the initials E.R.A. Elio's. "Welcome home, rires."

I tilt my head at the unknown word and look up to Tommy for help. He is already looking at me with a broad grin.

"Let's get downstairs. Alessandro won't be happy if he has to eat cold food." He places a soft hand on my back and gently guides me past Wilbur, who follows us with his eyes. We walk down a beautiful dim hallway with a red patterned carpet running down the middle of the aged brown wood. I want to describe the carpet as dirty, old—whatever may seem fitting—due to the stains on it, the obvious remnants of muddy footprints from small feet, and the darkened areas on certain places; right beside the extremely cluttered, full bookshelves we pass, the two velvet green armchairs near, the family pictures on the walls. It is stained, but not with dried paint, mud, and whatever else manages to end up on the carpet. Stained with love, comfort, and happiness, too. So much so that Tommy's lips curve upwards in a small, subconscious smile as we walk down the hallway.