Consequences |LRH|

Chapter 10

Evie

They ask us when we are eighteen and susceptible to suggestion what we want to do for the next eighty years, who do we want to be? Who do we want to become? Childhood dreams of being someone memorable slamming into the concrete of reality that a robot astronaut dinosaur trainer just wasn't reasonable and picking a mediocre job that would give you enough money to pay your bills and put some food on the table would become your new dream. I had dreamed of greatness, of art galleries filled to the brim with photos I'd taken. Galas in my honour with a dress made of Swarovski diamonds and beauty that was incomprehensible. Maybe I would be one of those people that never got married but had torrid one night stands and fleeting romances, tales of loves that transcended an eternity.

Then high school when boys were peaking with stupidity and grand dreams of the AFL, NRL or even the NFL if they were good enough.Girls hadn't learned that it was more than alright to be friends with other girls and my face decided breakouts were a necessity. It was a horrid memory of nasty relationships from friends to boyfriends to family and I realized reality was just that: reality.

My dreams of art galleries and galas turned into a college degree with a few submissions to some lesser known magazines. Dreams of grandeur dwindled to a snuffed out flame, the belief in magic dropping to something that rivaled my belief in Santa Claus; nonexistent.

Then one of my photographs was noticed by a prestige art institute and pieces of a puzzle I didn't know I was putting together fell into place. I was going to one of the most notorious art universities with a full scholarship that just happened to be in the same area as my brother. And I started believing magic did not exist in fairytales but rather in tiny miracles that gave us a chance to be the best version of ourselves.

Now I'm in LA with a professional photoshoot in a renowned magazine under my belt and a maybe, sort of, almost famous boyfriend who I had gone on a few more dates with over the month we'd know each other. We went out of our way to make plans, scheduling mostly around him and his ever-changing responsibilities with all of the Jingle Bell Ball performances but I would go on a million dates at two a.m. if they were with him.

But now I was late.

Today I was flying out to New York for a contest James had signed me up for- without my permission- and I had to follow through or he was out 200 bucks for nothing. Plus, the grand prize was being featured in Popular Photography and getting my photos out there in anyway possible sounded good to me.

"Morning Evi- Woah!" James was in the way of my whirlwind of shoving a piece of toast in my mouth (I didn't need to be sleepy and hungry today, no thank you) while pulling my shoes on and swinging my duffel bag full of clothes over my shoulder, almost getting knocked down in the process.

"Going to be late for my flight. Bye." I mumbled around the toast, his wide eyes following me as I all but fell out the door.

"Well just so you know I've booked the flight back to Sydney to see mum and dad for Christmas!" And that stopped me in my tracks.

Really? I have to go back to that place. I tried not to remember that I may or may not have to deal with the 2 people that made my life a living hell. If I hadn't pushed it to the back of my mind, I would be panicking about that and not the photo shoot that I had just been notified of. It's not like I did not like going home, it wasn't that I did not love my family. It was that if judgement had a face, it would be theirs.

Evie, you're gaining weight!

Your skin used to be so clear when you were younger.

That's what you're wearing?

How is art a career? What about law?

They was always something about me for them to pick apart, critique. The thought of spending more than a five minute call with them was enough to make my skin burn like fire ants had crawled into my veins. Taking a deep breath, I slammed the door without a response but James knew how I felt. However, he didn't understand why I felt this way. All he sees is our parents mostly ignoring me or just making little comments. He hasn't really ever seen them belittle me to the point of tears, he hasn't seen them talk to me like I am nothing more than gum stuck to their shoe rather than their daughter. I couldn't deal with this, not right now. I had a taxi waiting and a flight I should have been ready for an hour ago.