White Walls [[On Hold]]

Chapter Five

"But does it matter anymore? Do I matter anymore?"

•••

"Why are you asking a question like that?" I hissed as the barista walked away. The tea steamed in front of me in a white mug on a platter. There was a spoon to mix the contents of the tea even more. I always put the spoon it, just so I could distract myself from the conversations that we had here. Today, I wouldn't be able to distract myself. 

"You know why were asking," Malory hissed back. She was the only one that could be harsh with me and I wouldn't cry. "You know damn why, Evelyn. Don't act like you don't." 

I rolled my eyes and leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms. Even though I was the most depressed person around, I still had an attitude. Especially if it was my best friends. "I don't." I clicked my tongue at the end of my sentence. Malory's face became red with anger. I had pissed her off. 

But before she could speak, James put his hands on the table, which made a little banging noise, so our attention drew to him. "Let's stop with the bullshit." His blue eyes were dark, but his voice was deep and calm; and that's how you know he was pissed. He took a large breath and sighed loudly, taking his hands off the table and putting them on his coffee. "You are so full of bullshit, Evelyn, and you fucking know it," he muttered. James wasn't the cursing type, so this surprised me. I think it surprised everyone because their eyes went wide at his language. "I'm going to tell you how we know and you're going to listen." I nodded my head and seeing my response, he continued, "A month ago, you were actually laughing and loud like you were years ago. You were actually happy and joyful and then this month as been a quiet, obviously not happy, Evelyn. You-."

"You honestly think that laughter or 'happiness' was real?" I questioned, looking at James right in the eyes. "You all know I haven't been the same since..." I trailed off, knowing they knew what I meant. 

Ten years ago, I was diagnosed with the most mild disorders a person could get. I took medicine, yes, and it helped me very much so, and I didn't worry about it. But seven years ago, I was in an accident. I was drunk and almost was past the limit that people could live with alcohol in their bloodstream. I started because my ex-boyfriend was a fucking badass. Clichéright? The bad boy ruining the good girl, but the good girl keeps thinking she could save the boy from destruction? That was my life for three years. 

But one night, I almost died from that alcohol. In fact, now that I look back, I wish I had died. I couldn't see, I didn't know what I was doing; and that's when my boyfriend dared me to cross a highway. My drunk ass thought it was the best thing ever, and I accepted it. I guess I had expected him to have sex with me afterwards, considering that we had done it so many times before that day. 

I was on the highway, my boyfriend cheering me on. I remember the blurring lights from the cars and the honks of warning and begs for me to get off the road. But I didn't listen. 

I should have listened.

I turned around to my boyfriend, screaming at the top of my lungs, filled with joy, and that's when it happened: a semi-truck crashed into me without a warning. 

I woke up in the hospital with a dented skull and the thoughts of death clouding my thoughts like fog in the morning, however this fog never ended like everyone thought it would. 

I wish I had died that night. Everyone wonders how I didn't die. They always would call me a miracle, even though I knew I wasn't. I'm still not one, no matter how many times people remind me. In fact, I wish people would stop reminding me of how I survived, because the life before that was when I could truly be happy. When I loved myself and had the motivation to do things.