Demon ∞ l.h.

∞ Chapter Nineteen ∞

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Ending of Previous Flashback was Michael's and Michael's mothers funeral, Eve had chosen to be mute. Eve is mentally struggling and unable to cope with Michael's death, which she feels she is guilty for.

∞ Flashback 2 months later ∞

"Eve, honey, it's been 2 months. He's gone, baby, it's time to let him go..." My mother sighs, looking over at me from the couch. I turn to her and tilt my head, signalling that I was confused. "You've barely left the house, you aren't speaking! Your sisters and I are worried, honey." She finishes softly.

I shrug my shoulders. What does she expect me to say, well, write down? Sorry the love of my life died because of me, and now I'm suffering mentally because of it? I'm sure that would go down swimmingly...

My mother waits patiently for a reply that won't come, and eventually she lets out a defeated sigh. Pushing herself from the couch she walks over to me and removes the novel in my hands. "I really didn't want to have to do this, Eve..." She starts. That phrase is enough for me to sit up straighter, worried about what will come next. "Your sisters and I have been thinking that it might be a wise idea for you to go and visit your Grandma Lottie up in Kansas for a little bit."

Almost instantly a lead weight feels like it has dropped in my stomach. Oh god, no, I didn't want to go visit my kooky old Grandmother. That old bat had crossed the line into insanity a long, long time ago- I was surprised that my mother hadn't put her into an old folks home yet. She surely needed one, that or a mental hospital.

Shaking my head desperately at my mother I see her eyes filling with tears. "Eve, honey, you need to get out of this town for a bit. Hell, get out of the house, your room, for a bit! Lottie's house is in the open air, nice and nature-filled. It will do you good honey." My mother finishes gently. I send her a look, the set of my eyebrows clearly asking 'I don't have a choice in this, do I?'

"And no, you don't have a choice in the matter." My mother laughs, trying to cover the emotional pain she was feeling.

Well I guess I was heading to Kansas then. Why hadn't we named our family dog Toto, again?

∞

"Eve, get out of the car." My mom said, looking across at me from the driver's seat. I shook my head and crossed my arms tightly over my chest like a petulant, sour-faced toddler. Without looking at her I pout my lips and fling open the car door dramatically.

After stepping out and grabbing the small bag of clothes I brought with me, I slam the car door- the only sound I can make now to let my mother know how upset and annoyed I really was. Taking a deep breath though my nose, I look up to the house I was staying in for the next few days- or weeks, depending on whether or not my mother thought my attitude had changed.

My grandmother's house had not changed since the last time I had seen it over five years ago. The old wooden exterior was starting to fall into disarray, the aged white paint starting to chip off, and several of the windows were boarded up. I crinkled my nose at the smell that seemed to permeate the air near the house- it smelled like literal dog shit.

I turned back to the car where Mom sat and watched me with a sad expression on her face. I begged with my eyes for her to let me back in the car. She slowly shook her head and rolled down the window. "Eve, baby, it won't be that bad. You'll be here...two weeks at most okay? I'll call you in a few days, okay?"

I drop my head down in defeat and shuffle my feet on the brown, patchy grass beneath my feet. "I love you, Eve." is the last thing I hear my mother say before she has pulled away from the curb and drives away.

I stand at the side of the road until her car disappears, and then for a few minutes more. I didn't want to go in there, and I was putting off the dreaded moment when I would finally enter the house. Mom had managed to get out of coming inside, saying that she had some meeting to go to- but I knew the real reason why she didn't want to. Her and Grandma Lottie had never really gotten on that well, especially after Dad, Lottie's only son, died.

I trudge slowly up the porch stairs, my heavy boots thudding on each of the rickety steps. Hoisting my canvas bag further up my shoulder I raise my hand and tentatively knock on the door.

Here goes nothing...

∞

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