Lethe's Lament

Chapter 7: Eveline

It was around 10 in the evening when Eve decided to head home. She got up from her table and hugged her parents goodbye in the middle of the rowdy restaurant. She looked back at the window to the kitchen and made eye contact with the waitress she'd been talking to earlier. The girl with the curly black hair smiled and gave her a little wave. Eve did the same. She grabbed her coat from the hanger by the door, shook off some of the remaining raindrops from when she'd walked here, and stepped out into the street. It was a bit cold out, and she made sure to zip up her jacket carefully. The sky was dark, and among the smattering of thin clouds, stars shone down upon her, just like the lights behind the last restaurant, cafe and store windows shone out into the street. Street lamps bowed down over the empty asphalt like kindly old men, granting their light to the fragile passers-by. The streets were familiar and friendly to Eve, and she walked them with a confident step and a smile on her face, in no hurry to go home. She softly hummed a tune to the beat of her boots tip-tapping on the pavement.

At the nearest crossroad, she upped her pace, and that of the tune with it, to cross the street, and passed the bus stop she sometimes used to visit her friends or parents. It was a little group of figures on the street corner. A street lantern, a pole with a sign on it, and a bench facing the street with glass walls on three sides, and a little glass roof to protect the stringy man on the bench from the elements. All sat huddled together like old friends. A strange chill traveled down her spine. As she walked by, she brushed her hand past the back wall of the little glass hut. It felt cold, much colder than it should. She quickly shoved her hand back in her pocket. The stringy man didn't seem to mind. His gaze was fixed in the middle distance in front of him, unmoving, like a gargoyle, his bag frantically clutched to his chest.

Eve turned her gaze back to the street ahead of her, and saw an old man standing in front of the open doorway to a dark bakery. He wore a polo shirt and a black apron that proudly read "Jackson and Sons Bakery". Just like the man at the bus stop, his gaze was fixed somewhere on the horizon, a mild frown on his face, his mouth hanging open slightly. His left hand rested on a chalkboard sign standing by the door that listed various types of bread and pastries and their prices. Eve recognised the empty stare from when she'd volunteered at a nursery home for a short while. Often, the more heavily demented elderly would stop in their tracks, and when approached, would often seem lost in their own worlds. Just as she was instructed to do back then, she carefully walked up to the man.

"Excuse me, sir? Are you alright?" Eve asked him gently. The man turned to her and made eye contact. That was a good sign, at least. He frowned, his bushy eyebrows descending over his eyes. He slowly turned to look at the sign he was leaning on, then to the open door, and then back to Eve. Confusedly, he wiped a sleeve across his cheek,  before slowly answering.

"Sorry, I... Yes, I'm okay. I must have dozed off for a second. Thank you, young lady." He shook his head lightly, stood up straight, and turned to pick up the sign. "Quite troublesome. I don't usually work this late anymore, you see? I'm not getting any younger..."

Eve instinctively reached for the sign too. "Here, let me help you. Do you want me to take this inside?" she asked. The man smiled. "That's very kind of you, miss. You can just place it right by the door, if you would." Eve did as she was asked, and once she stepped back outside, the man closed the door. A little bell rung, and the sound resonated through the quiet street. He then took out a large, bronze coloured key from his back pocket and locked the door.

"Will you be able to get home safe, sir?" Eve asked when the door was locked.

The man grinned. "I'll be fine, dear. I live right up there." The man pointed to the two floors above the bakery. He walked over to a red door just beside the store, that still appeared to be part of the same building. "Thanks again!" he said as he opened the door. "And good night!"

Eve bid the man good night as well, and as the door closed, she walked on. Now that she was no longer distracted by the man, she could focus once again on her surroundings. It seemed to be colder than she remembered. Perhaps the weather was shifting, she thought, but there was no sign of wind, and such a drop in temperature usually didn't come this quickly... She raised her shoulders and buried her head slightly further in the collar of her jacket. She was almost home now, she knew. She could see the sign hanging off the facade of the Chinese restaurant next door in the distance. 

She passed a narrow alley that she knew lead to a whole network of small alleyways between the buildings. The fire escape out the back of her home led straight into it as well, and it would probably be a much quicker way to get home, but she'd never dared to try it. She preferred the open streets. Strangely, as soon as she'd walked past the alley, the air returned to its previous temperature. It was still a bit cold, sure, but that strange, lingering chill she'd felt since the bus stop was no longer around. Eve frowned, shrugged, and moved on.

There she was, in front of her door. On the ground floor was the workshop of a painter Eve had met only once. She seemed nice, but not very social, and Eve hadn't tried to talk to her since. She took out her keys and opened the door. Her footsteps made a muted flopping sound on the faded carpet of her narrow stairwell.

There was a faint rustling noise that came from upstairs. Eve stood still for a moment. She was only three steps away from the top of the stairs, and the door to her living room. She quickly went through a list of possible sources of the sound. She had no roommates, no pets, she hadn't left a fan on... Shoot, the window. Before she left, she been doing homework at her desk under the window to the back of the building, and had opened the window to get a breath of fresh air. The wind must have been blowing around her newest school project. She quickly went up the last few steps and opened the door.

It was only when a blast of cold air hit her in the face that she remembered there hadn't been any wind at all.

A faint dripping sound appeared in the back of her head, and as the world around her faded, the last image she caught was one of a teenage girl with startlingly white hair and a purple hoodie staring at her from the back of the room, a look of despair engraved on her face, and silvery tears streaming down from her eyes.