3650 Days//New Hope Club.

Rock Bottom.

Double update just because I love you all.
This starts off super depressing but I promise it gets lighter towards the end.

~

Rock bottom was not a fun place to hit. Evie would know.
Less than a year ago, she had been sitting in her king-sized bed, in her secret apartment, binge watching Netflix on her laptop and shoving spoonfuls of Ben and Jerry's Half Baked into her mouth. she had no worries, apart form which dress to wear to which event and which charity would make her look the best if she donated a large sum of money to it. Now, however, there was a lot more going through her mind than dresses and charities.
Her thoughts weren't typical of what you'd expect a newly-homeless person to be thinking. They had been, at first, questions like 'Where am I meant to go?' and 'how will I survive?' exploding inside of her brain. But now, now there were only thoughts of the unborn child which was currently being formed in Lauren's body.

That child was so lucky. It wasn't even born and it already had so much going for it: A loving family, a place to stay, people to look after it, a clean record and no regrets or bad memories to repress. It hadn't screwed its life up yet, probably never would, either, as it had proper parents.
Evie hated that child. She envied that child. Not even born yet and it was already luckier than the blonde had ever been.
She wished she was born to loving parents. She wished her parents hadn't just brought her into the world just so she could take over their business. She wished that she was in that state of peace and security that Lauren's child was currently in, somewhere warm and comforting where she could just exist, with no toxic memories in her brain to plague her thoughts.
But she couldn't have what that child had. The closest she could get was the cold, silent, permanent state of blackness which every human was promised as soon as they began to exist in the comforting peace of their mother.

Evie wished she was dead. At least then her thoughts would be gone. But she didn't want to die. She didn't like the inevitable permanence which would be given to her; it meant that she didn't get to choose what happened to her, she would lose the power she had over herself. Unless she ended the existence herself, stole death's gift of the never-ending before he could choose when to bestow it upon her.
But, in order to die, you need to be killed and with her recent homelessness, she had nothing to kill herself with. There weren't any bridges or cliff faces near her, either, and as it was around 2:16am, there was little chance of being hit by a car in this part of London. Of course there was always starvation or dehydration, but that would take days to occur, and the girl felt she might convince herself out of it before it could happen. She also didn't want to give the universe time to fuck up her life any more than it already had been.

The blonde didn't envy the child anymore. She envied Parker; he was slipping into the peaceful sleep whilst she was fit and healthy.
Death was unkind. He was taking Parker, a man who had people to live for, a man who wasn't ready to leave the buzz of the world, instead of Evie, the one who craved nothing more than to poison herself with Parker's cancer so that he could stay and she might go.
Bad things happened to good people, it seemed. Evie was a shit person, so she guessed that maybe she was once a good person, and all the bad had possessed her. She didn't deserve the peace of death. She deserved to live and suffer through the life of isolation she had created for herself. She deserved to watch as the child grew up in a happy family. She deserved to hear about the boys she used to know, creating happy families of their own. She was a weed. She deserved to be left to wither as the flowers of the world bloomed, making the Earth a brighter place. She deserved- "Evelyn?" The green-eyed girl let her eyes fix onto the feet of the person standing in front of the park bench. "Evie, it is you, isn't it?" The voice came again, but the girl had no intentions in responding.

Instead of walking away as the depressed girl had wished they would, the person took a seat next to her, pulling her into their chest as she started to cry. This wasn't how she pictured her life to go: crying in the arms of a person who apparently knew her, on a park bench at 2:34am after being thrown out for not being able to afford to stay on a sofa in a small apartment.
The voice was familiar, she knew that she had heard them speak before, and she tried to work out who it belonged to as they whispered comforting words and promises of 'it'll be okay' into her ears.
Evie hated the word 'okay'. It used to define her. Evie's okay. Her grades are okay. Her life is okay. It had, over the four years, been replaced with the word 'shit'. Evie's shit. Her career is shit. Her life is shit. Still, she preferred it over 'okay'. She didn't want to go back to a state of constant 'okay', where she was just average, where she was invisible to everybody and easily replaced. At least she managed to get more attention when she was 'shit'.