Me, Myself and I- Draw

His Story

Here it is, my dearest Evan! Sorry I lied and I didn't post this chapter until today, but at least I got it posted! So this will take off from the other chapter on Stacy. Enjoy Story Time:

Your Point of View

You managed to get to your house and scrambled through the back door, slamming it shut behind you. "Honey," you heard your mom call, "don't slam the door." You let out a vague answer and stumbled down the hall and to your room, ignoring further reprimands from your mother.

When you make it to your room, you close the door behind you and lock it so your privacy is certain. You flick the lights on and glance down at your hand and see the diary still clutched in it; in all the excitement, you had forgotten you had it. You set the book gingerly into your desk and stride over to your closet, and shed your current clothes which are drenched in sweat.

After you are dress in clean and sweat-free clothes you step towards your desk and sit down on the chair perched in front of it. For a bit of extra light you have your lamp flare to light, adding a soft gold tinted glow to the overall white light, and, with a deep breath, open the diary.

The beginning is a bunch of doodles and scribbles and childish and misspelled sentences: "I has a nuu brudder." You visibly relax and continue flipping through it. They start getting more intelligent, until suddenly the pages become blank. You can even see some pages were ripped out.

Then, writing starts to fill the page, tall and loopy and neat, completely different from the small, curly writing from before. You start to who could possibly be the owner of the writing and decide to check it out.

July 31

I needed a diary, I told Doctor. I needed one. He didn't say anything, but hinted to me Sister didn't want hers, so I nicked it. I don't think she minds, she's so nice. To me, at lease. I am her only family besides Doctor, but he doesn't really talk to us much. Just uses us for the experiments.

You blink at the page. Experiments? What? You shake your head and continue reading.

I'm Evan. I don't have a last name, only a first. Did you know I was an orphan before Doctor adopted me? Of course you didn't - that's why I'm telling you. But that's why I'm so loyal to Doctor. Why I do what I do. So maybe I should start from the beginning.

I was found at the local orphanage when I was two years old with nothing but the clothes on my back and a deep crimson ribbon tied to my wrist.

"Who are you?" The boy with bright red hair looked up from where he was sitting on the orphanage steps, but didn't say anything. "Not a talker, are we?" The caretaker smiled down at him and tugged onto the end of her brown ponytail. Then she reached out with her hand and hovered it in front of his face.

Red states up at her and slowly put his small, pale hand in hers and allowed himself to be hauled up. "Will you tell me your name now?" the lady asked. "I'll tell you mine - Bronwyn." The kid stared up at her with big amber eyes, then opened his mouth and whispered, "Evan."

"Evan, eh?" Bronwyn repeated. Then she winked and said, "How about you and I be best friends? Evan and Bronwyn; doesn't that sound good?"

We were best friends. I trusted Bronwyn more than anyone else at the orphanage, even the other kids. She made me feel good. The other kids thought I was weird for liking her so much. If I must be honest, I think I like-liked her a bit. But that wouldn't have worked; she was eighteen years older than me, and she had a boyfriend of half a year. Besides, I wouldn't have had a chance with her after he broke it off with her because -

Evan stared at the bloody body of Bronwyn lying on the road. His head spun in confusion, and he felt another one of the caretakers - Coraline, if he remembered correctly - grab him and hold onto him tightly. Her long blonde hair brushed the top of his head as she stared at her best friend, mouth agape and shaking. The police arrived a short while later, along with an ambulance, and two hours later at the local hospital, Bronwyn Webb was officially declared dead at 3:28 pm. Cause of death? Car accident.

Evan was nine when it happened. When the police brought him into the room to interrogate him on what happened, he recalled the events with a frightening accuracy - how, since that was his "birth" day, Bronwyn and the other caretakers decided to bring the orphans out on a little field trip to the arcade. Bronwyn had tripped on the curb of the sidewalk and ended up toppling onto the road where an unsuspecting driver had no time to avoid her.

As cheesy as it sounds, a part of me died that day.

The next year, a little after I turned ten, the Doctor came to visit for a new child. He wanted one of us older kids, preferably a boy. There were only two other ten-year-olds and five eleven, twelve, and fourteen year olds. And out of all the kids he could have picked, he picked me. I was so happy at first; now I envy the other kids.

"Which child would you like to adopt, Doctor?" Emily asked. She was an older caretaker, probably in her late fifties. Doctor stared at the kids assembled in front of him, from the one blonde ten-year-old girl to the oldest tawny-haired fourteen-year-old make twins, and felt his gaze settle on a small and scrawny tenner.

There was something about that kid, something about him that made Doctor interested. Maybe it was his flaming red hair and skinny physique, but it was mostly his eyes, and dull yet bright amber color that shone with helplessness. So Doctor introduced Evan to his small family, and Stacy was overjoyed.

She always wanted a friend - it was killing two birds with one stone.

It was paradise at first. Stacy and I played together whenever we could; she was only four when I entered her life. She didn't have a mom, because she died a few months after Stacy was born, and that's why she doesn't have any other siblings.

When I was fifteen and she was nine, the torture really began. Doctor would take us down to the basement for hours at a time, and when we left, we didn't talk for days. Later on, we found out he was trying to make super children, and it worked, kinda. The only downside was that he needed to cut our mouths open to operate on our teeth to get them like fangs. Didn't work too well, so our teeth are kinda jagged, and he had to sew our mouth closed. Stacy's proud of hers, but I'm not. That's why I cover it.

Stacy has taken to playing with the other kids, but they always run from her in fright. Doctor says that one day those kids will do anything to play with her. Stacy doesn't like waiting. She's kidnapping these kids when no one is looking and keeping them in the attic, dressing them up and using them as dolls. I play with her now and then, but stopped when she got a bit too harsh.

The diary entry stopped and you lean back, trying to wrap your head around it all. You can't seem to, but you know that this is too interesting to ignore, so you push the diary to the side and grab your pen and a sticky note. You hastily scrawl Research diary owner(s) and turn back to the diary and freeze.

September 13

Someone took my diary. It was a kid, and they took it from Stacy. I'm mad at her, but she loves me so much I can't stay mad. I do know that she's plotting to take the poor kid. Doctor's been planning on getting another child.

I hope they like playing dress up with Stacy.

That entry hadn't been there before.

End~

And there's that! It took me two days to finish the picture and then three more to finish the story. Sorry it's so long, and that it took forever. I'd go back and edit but I'm so tired so I won't.

Hope you enjoy!

Peace!