𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄- 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐈𝐃

𝐅𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍

 𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐀'𝐒 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐕𝐔𝐋𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅, a reminder of a time when she was a girl who had faith in the world. Showing them off to Mallory was something she'd never wanted to do. If she could, she'd never let anyone see them. 

Sometimes, when Alana glanced at them in the mirror, she saw a glimpse of her old self, and along with it came the pain as she remembered how she got those scars. Sometimes it felt like the phantom limb pains that people described- a cruel reminder of what was lost yet somehow still lingered. That night, it was as though a part of her had been severed, leaving her as a heap of broken, jagged pieces that never quite fit together again. Sometimes it felt like that eighteen year old girl was still there, buried somewhere deep, deep inside of her, screaming and crying to be let out. Corey might have physically killed her, but Alana's hands were covered in blood all the same. 

Corey was the one who held the knife, the one who had carved her up while his friends watched and laughed, revelling in the sounds of her screaming and crying. But Alana had been the one that killed her the second she raised a knife of her own and ended a mans life. There was no coming back from that, and Alana knew that before she did it. It was a sacrifice she had been willing to make, and she would do it all over again if she had the choice to. 

For Evangeline. 

Because that was who they'd done it for. Alana needed to remind herself daily that the girl had wanted her to live, even though all Alana truly wanted was to join her.

But she could never bring herself to do it. She'd thought about it more times than she was willing to admit. She knew how easy it would be; she had done the math, and Alana knew just how many pills she'd have to take before she slipped into that peaceful oblivion. She wondered if Evangeline's face would be there to greet her when she died; Alana wondered if there truly was an afterlife, if she'd be able to see Evangeline's face and know that it was all worth it in the end. 

Alana had tried. Once. On the first anniversary after the accident, she'd locked herself in the bathroom and filled up the tub. She filled up the tub enough until she could submerge her head under, and even though her lungs burned, screaming and begging for air, she didn't come up. Water cleanses, she recalled someone telling her. Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean; wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow. It reminded her of when the Mitchell's had taken her in and coerced her into getting baptized. Corey's father had spoken of salvation, of washing away past sins, and re-emerging from the water renewed and pure. His mother had whispered assurances that the water would cleanse not just her body, but her spirit. 

That first year, Alana let herself stay in the tub, wondering if it would somehow cleanse her spirit. She wondered if it would help with the guilt of surviving, knowing that she'd lived when Evangeline hadn't. In the distance, she had heard loud banging, and shouts of her name, but Alana kept her head under the water. It was so close, and Alana swore she'd felt herself toeing that line between life and death, and she was prepared to cross it and not look back. Alana swore that in those last moments before death, she'd seen a head of blonde hair reach into the tub and pull her from the water. 

Instinctively, her body had thanked her as she was pulled from the tub, and her greedy lungs sucked in as much air as they could, despite Alana's insistence that she didn't deserve it. 

"What did you do?" Rhiannon had shouted through her fit of sobs. It was then that Alana realized it wasn't Evangeline that had pulled her from the water, but Rhiannon. Alana hadn't said a word, not when Rhiannon drained the tub and held her soaked body close to hers, not caring about the fact that she was getting soaked. Alana opened her mouth, and willed herself to say something, but no words came out. "Why would you do that?" Rhiannon sobbed. "I already lost her; I can't lose you, too." Still, Alana didn't say anything. Her arms had hung limp at her sides, and she glanced over to the bathroom door to see that it had been kicked in before Rhiannon had stormed in. After that day, she swore to never do it again; she swore to Rhiannon that she would survive, otherwise Evangeline gave her life that day for nothing. It was the least Alana could do for her friend.