EVELYN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Evelyn's POV

A day later.

I woke up before dawn, the dull gray light of morning filtering through my curtains. My body ached—not from physical pain anymore, but from the weight of the emotions crushing me from the inside out. The bed felt foreign, too soft, too safe, too far from the nightmare I couldn’t escape.

I turned on my side, curling into myself, my chest rising and falling unevenly. The memory hit me again, vivid as if it were happening all over. His voice, smooth and taunting, rang in my ears.

"You’re so beautiful, Evelyn."

The words made me feel sick now. My skin crawled at the thought, a wave of nausea surging through me. I clutched my stomach, biting down hard on my lip to keep from screaming. He made me feel beautiful, just to destroy me.

I hated him.

But I hated myself more.

My reflection haunted me—the girl who couldn’t stop him, who froze when she should’ve fought. My body didn’t feel like mine anymore. It felt stolen, defiled, and every inch of me reeked of bitterness.

Tears blurred my vision as I sat up, my fists clutching the sheets. I tried to breathe, but my chest felt tight, like there wasn’t enough air in the world to fill me.

I staggered to the bathroom, flipping on the light. The glare was harsh, and I squinted at the mirror. My face wasn’t as pale as it had been, and the puffiness under my eyes had gone down. My body was recovering—but it was only skin-deep.

I brushed my teeth mechanically, scrubbing until my gums bled, as if I could erase the foulness clinging to me. When I finally set the toothbrush down, my hands trembled. I stared at my reflection, the girl staring back at me looking hollow and unfamiliar.

“I can’t do this anymore,” I whispered to myself. But I knew I had to. I couldn’t stay trapped in my own mind.

By the time the morning sun poured through the windows, I had made up my mind. I would go to school today. Maybe seeing my friends would distract me. Maybe being around people would remind me that I still existed.

I dressed quickly, pulling on a simple blouse and jeans. My hair was a mess, but I didn’t care. When I went downstairs, my parents greeted me cautiously, their voices soft as if I were made of glass. I avoided their gazes, grabbing my bag and leaving without a word.

---

The school hallways were loud and bustling, a stark contrast to the quiet isolation I had grown used to. Jasmine, Amber, and Maya spotted me near my locker, rushing over with relieved smiles.

“Oh my God, Evelyn!” Jasmine exclaimed, hugging me tightly.

“We were so worried about you,” Amber said, her voice tinged with concern.

“Are you okay?” Maya asked, her eyes scanning my face.

I gave them a small nod, forcing a weak smile. They didn’t push me to speak, filling the silence with updates on school drama and gossip.

Apparently, Luke, the guy I’d met at the park, was the talk of the school. He’d joined the sports club and was already making waves.

“Everyone’s obsessed with him,” Amber said, rolling her eyes. “But he’s actually really sweet.”

My stomach twisted at the mention of his name. I didn’t know how to feel about Luke, especially after yesterday. But I didn’t have time to dwell on it.

The day passed in a blur of classes and whispered conversations. By the time I got to my afternoon literature class, I was already drained. I slumped into my seat, my hands fidgeting under the desk.

The teacher’s voice broke through the hum of my thoughts. “Today’s topic is one of the most difficult and sensitive we’ll cover—sexual assault and consent in literature.”

My chest tightened immediately.

She began explaining how the themes appeared in different works, and I could feel the walls closing in around me. Every word felt like a dagger, each one hitting too close to home.

The room spun. My breathing grew shallow, and my vision blurred.

I couldn’t stay.

I stumbled out of the classroom, clutching the wall for support. The hallway felt endless, the fluorescent lights blinding. My legs wobbled beneath me, and I gasped for air.

Langston’s face flashed in my mind. His hands, his voice, his presence.

I felt myself falling, the floor rushing up to meet me.

“Langston,” I whispered hoarsely, my voice barely audible.

And then louder, a desperate cry: “Somebody help!”

Everything went black.

---

When I woke, the world was a blur. My body felt heavy, my head pounding. Voices floated around me—distant and frantic.

“Is she awake?”

“What happened?”

“She said something about Langston before she collapsed.”

Panic gripped me as the memories surged back. I tried to sit up, but strong hands held me down.

“Evelyn, stay still,” someone said gently.

I couldn’t see who it was. All I could think about was the name I had spoken, the name that had slipped from my lips like a curse.

Langston.