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☤ C H A R L I E ☤
Something is bothering Evelyn.
Either something happened at the party or afterward, because the second she walked in the door - 3am, which wasn't late seeing as neither Eva nor I established a curfew - and the second I glanced at her face I knew something had just happened. Something that scared her and upset her.
Now, I know Evelyn better than everyone else. I know her better than she knows herself. I know when she's happy and when she's sad, when she's excited and when she's pissed. And, just by looking at her face, I could tell she got a good scare and was all cried out.
That party was a week ago. Ever since then she hasn't left the house except to go to school, and afterward she just holes herself in her room or stares into space at the dinner table.
I don't know how Eva hasn't noticed this change in Evelyn, but then again the only thing on her mind is making sure we're living comfortably, and making sure that all of us are relatively emotionally stable. As far as I know, Evelyn hasn't . . . cut herself, which I suppose is a relief. But the fact still remains that she's unhappy. And Eva is completely oblivious to it.
I don't want to speak out or act rashly. I know Evelyn, when confronted she tends to retreat back into her shell of impassivity and hide her emotions. She won't budge if I ask upfront what's the deal. She'll lie and say she's fine, and it'll be as if the topic was never brought up. I should do something, I know, but I'm afraid if I do I'll lose her like how I did not so long ago. And I can't let that happen. I can't lose my little girl again.
Because I'm afraid I won't be able to find her this time.
❀ E V A ❀
I rest my head on Charlie's chest, my fingers lightly touching the material of his shirt. We're both staring at the ceiling. "Does Evelyn seem . . . different to you?" Charlie asks, breaking the silence.
I frown a little, taking my mind off ideas for my new collection for this month and digest his words. "No. She seems the same," I tell him, tilting my head upwards to glance at him. There's a troubled look on his face, his normally clear eyes filled with worry. He has something on his mind. "What makes you think that?" I ask him.
He's quiet for a while, brows furrowed slightly. I absently trace my fingers over his clean-shaven jaw, mulling over his words. I hadn't noticed something is wrong with Evelyn. I've been so swamped with work and running the house that I haven't had time to notice any change in behavior.
"If there is something going on, I'm sure Dr. Paige will let us know," I murmur. But Evelyn seems the same to me. Just fine as she'd put it. Maybe she's hiding something. Is she? Did something happen? Did someone hurt my baby? I can feel myself getting angsty at the thought, and the urge to wake Evelyn up and question her is overwhelming, but I fight it.
