EVELYN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Evelyn's POV

The world around me felt muted as my consciousness returned. My body ached in places I  didn’t want to think about, my skin felt raw, and my throat burned, dry from hours of crying and screaming.

As my eyelids fluttered open, the hazy outlines of my room began to take shape. I blinked slowly, disoriented, and that’s when she I them—my family gathered around me.

Mom sat on the edge of the bed, her hand stroking my  hair with a trembling tenderness. Tears glistened in her eyes as her lips trembled, murmuring words I couldn’t quite hear. Mariam stood nearby, clutching a handkerchief, her face red and blotchy from crying.

Dad loomed at the foot of the bed, his arms crossed tightly as though he was holding himself together. His jaw was clenched, and his eyes—those eyes that rarely betrayed emotion—were glassy, brimming with pain and, was that guilt I saw?

And then there was my  brother Max, standing in the corner of the room with his fists balled at his sides, his usually teasing demeanor replaced by a quiet fury. He looked at me, then away, as if the sight of me hurt was too much to bear.

“Evelyn,” mom whispered, leaning closer. Her voice cracked with emotion. “Baby, you’re awake. We’ve been so worried.”

Her words were a trigger. The tears that I thought had dried overnight began to flow again, hot and relentless.

“Oh, my sweet girl,”  mom murmured, pulling her into a gentle embrace. I didn’t resist. I collapsed against my mother’s chest as she held me tight.

“Evelyn, please,” Dad  said, stepping closer. His voice was heavy with desperation. “Talk to us. Tell us what’s wrong.”

I tried. I opened my mouth, but no words came. My voice was gone.
“Princess,” Dad said softly, crouching beside the bed now. “It’s okay. Whatever it is, we’ll fix it. We’re here for you.” His hand reached out to touch my shoulder, but I flinched at the contact.

“Evelyn, please,”  Mom urged, her own tears falling freely now. “Say something. Anything.”

I don’t know how long I cried. It felt like hours, but it could have been days for all I knew. My body trembled uncontrollably, as if it had forgotten how to breathe without the weight of the pain pushing down on me. I clung to my mother as though I could hide from everything that had happened if I just buried myself deep enough into her arms. Her hands ran through my hair, but her touch couldn’t calm me—nothing could calm me.

I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t say anything, no matter how much I wanted to scream it all out, to just make the pain stop. My chest felt hollow, as if something inside me had been ripped away. Every breath burned as though it were the first one after being underwater for too long. I sobbed harder, my body wracked with grief, but still... silence.

“Evelyn, please,” my father’s voice was distant, like I was hearing him from underwater. “Talk to us, baby. Tell us what happened.”

I couldn’t. I wanted to, but I couldn’t. The words were there, trapped in my throat, but they wouldn’t come. My body shook even harder, and I curled tighter into my mother’s arms, burying my face in her chest, feeling the softness of her blouse against my tear-soaked face.

“I’m calling the doctor,” my father said, his voice strained and desperate. I could hear his footsteps as he walked away, but it didn’t matter. It didn’t change the knot in my stomach, the nausea that twisted my insides every time I remembered what had happened.

“Shh, baby. It’s okay,” my mother whispered. But it wasn’t okay. Nothing was okay. I couldn’t tell her. I couldn’t tell anyone. I was drowning in my own silence.

The doctor arrived quickly, his presence momentarily distracting me from the overwhelming wave of emotion crashing over me. I didn’t look at him, didn’t even move when he began asking my parents questions. I just lay there, holding my mother as if she was the only thing keeping me tethered to reality.

After what felt like an eternity, I heard the doctor speak, his tone serious but gentle.

“Evelyn is in shock,” he said. “It’s likely that the trauma has triggered a psychological response. She’s suffering from acute stress reaction. The fact that she can’t speak right now is a common symptom of that—her mind and body are overwhelmed. It’s not unusual for someone to be unable to communicate for a while after something like this.”

I felt my mother’s hand tighten around mine, but I didn’t move. I couldn’t. It felt like my whole body had gone numb, frozen in place by the weight of my own thoughts.

“We’ll need to keep her calm, make sure she’s safe and supported,” the doctor continued. “It might take a few days, maybe even a week, for her to find her voice again. But she’ll be okay. She’s young, strong. She’ll heal with time.”

I didn’t feel strong. I didn’t feel anything except for this overwhelming sense of being lost, like I was a ghost in my own life.

The doctor prescribed some medication to help me with the anxiety, to ease the tension that my body held, and left instructions for my family to keep me in a calm, stress-free environment.

Once he left, I sank back into the silence, staring blankly at the ceiling as if it could offer me some kind of answer. I couldn’t think straight, couldn’t find the words to say, and I couldn’t stop crying. I could feel my mother’s hand stroking my hair, but even her touch couldn’t make me feel safe. I was beyond safe. I was beyond anything. I was drowning in a world I didn’t recognize anymore.

---

The next day, the doorbell rang. I didn’t move, didn’t even look up, my gaze still locked on the empty wall in front of me. But I could hear them—my friends—laughing as they stepped into the house.

“Evelyn?” Amber’s voice called out softly from the doorway. I didn’t respond. She and Jasmine entered, both of them holding small bouquets of flowers in their hands, and Maya followed with a large box of chocolates. The sight of them made my heart ache in ways I didn’t think was possible.

“Hey,” Jasmine whispered. “We brought you some flowers.” She placed them carefully on the bedside table, glancing at me. “How are you feeling?”

I didn’t answer.

They all knew something was wrong, but none of them dared to ask. The sadness in their eyes was enough to break my heart even further.

Maya sat beside me on the bed, reaching out slowly to take my hand, her touch so gentle, as if she was afraid I might shatter into pieces if she touched me too hard. “We’re here, Evelyn. We’re not going anywhere. Whatever happened, we’re not leaving you.”

I couldn’t look at them. I couldn’t meet their eyes, because I knew the questions they weren’t asking. I knew they wanted to know what had happened to me, what had caused this silence, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell them. I couldn’t even think about it.

“Do you want the chocolates?” Maya asked softly, her voice full of tenderness. But I couldn’t answer. I couldn’t even look at the chocolates, or the flowers, or the faces of my friends who were only trying to make me feel better.

Amber’s voice broke the silence. “We’ll stay here with you, okay? You don’t have to say anything. Just... know that we’re here.”

I felt a tear slip down my cheek. I wanted to say something, anything, to tell them how much I appreciated them being here, but I couldn’t. The words wouldn’t come.

I curled in on myself, my body trembling as the tears fell freely, soaking my pillow. They stayed with me, though, sitting quietly around me, letting me cry, letting me be broken. They didn’t ask me questions. They just... stayed.

And I wanted to believe that everything would be okay. I wanted to believe that I could find my voice again. But for now, I could only lay there in the silence, surrounded by the people who loved me.