Carry Me Home

Eleven

Evelyn

"Evelyn! Evelyn, come back. Evelyn!"

I could hear Rowan shouting my name out repetitively but I didn't avert my direction. I was going to carry on walking. I was going to carry on lifting the burden of my seven year old self.

"It gets better, Evelyn. Wounds heal!"

"No, they don't, Rowan! All they do is leave scars behind. Those scars remind us of the past. It will never get better." I yelled back, my confidence and my strength gradually crumbling inside me. My mother was always a tough subject for me and that subject caused me to do things I'm not particularly proud of to this day. Rowan ran up to me and placed a hand on my shoulder, my body completely pressed up against his. He bent his head down and laid his chin on the top of my head.

"Angel, I'm sorry," he whispered, his fingers touching my own.

"You have nothing to apologise for," I said, but he shook his head in response.

"I provoked you and for that I'm sorry. Are you ok, Evelyn?" He slowly spun me around to look me in the eye. I nodded and tried to back away.

"You can let go of me now, Rowan. I'm fine." Instead of letting me go his hold on me tightened. "We're in public."

"I don't care, Angel. If you don't mind me asking, how did she die?"

"If you wish to know then I'd rather it was in a secluded area."

He nodded and walked silently beside, my mind feeling like a whirlpool where all my thoughts were swirling around and drowning my senses. He found an empty bench and sat down, awaiting my company next to him. Once sitting down I repeated the same story I told Hayden. His appearance stayed the same. There were no widened eyes. There were no sad or sympathetic smiles. Just a calm face. And after I had finished my narration he said a phrase that I didn't foresee.

"I don't like you, Evelyn," he said casually. Confusion covered my face as I continued to stare at him.

"Why?" I whispered, my voice hardly distinct.

"Because you've been blaming yourself for something that has never been your fault to begin with. You were fucking seven, Evelyn! Seven! You didn't know what the hell you were doing."

"If you heard who I became afterwards you wouldn't just dislike me, you'd hate me."

"Who did you become?" he asked, edging closer to me. His gaze daring me to reply to his illegal question.

"I can't say."

"Why not?"

"I don't want you to hate me, Rowan."

"I couldn't ever hate you, Evelyn."

"But you would. Anyone who found out thought I was weak. Attention seeking. Someone who had no respect for themselves. I don't think anyone but my psychiatrist understood who I was," I revealed, sitting upright. Trying to keep myself strong and sturdy so that my weak interior wouldn't erupt out from the cracks in my non-existent armour.

"Did you self-harm?" he asked, still enclosed in his calm stature.

"I need to go. I told Hayden that I'd wake him up and - and - and I just need to - need to go back to my dorm." I said hastily, my speech faltering. I grabbed my bag and was about to make a run for it before he yanked me down.

"You can't run from your problems, Evelyn, they'll always chase you. You need to stand in front of them and conquer them."

"Conquer them with what, Rowan? The scars adorning my arms? Or my eyes who are always leaking? WITH WHAT, ROWAN!" I yelled, rapidly losing my patience and self-control. "YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND WHAT IT'S LIKE TO LOSE SOMEONE BECAUSE OF YOUR OWN DAMN FAULT! YOU DON'T KNOW SHIT, HASTINGS!"