The Silent One ✔

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chris turns around and glares at me with the disposable cups in his hands.

"Please don't make me go down there" I beg, glaring at the body hanging from the beam.

Her neck snapped and eyes wide open. She looks at me deeply but there's no life behind her eyes. Trisha's body is as pale as a sheet and her lips a blue. Her arms and legs are tangling from the ceiling.

My chest tightens, forcing me back against the wall while my heart rate speeds up. I look down at my trembling hands before my throat begins to restrict.

Now she she stands in front of me, her face only a few inches away from me. My breathing is shaky and I shut my eyes quickly, pressing my back against the wall behind me. My shoulders are pressed against my jaw as I listen to Trisha's heavy breathing in front me.

"EVANGELINE" she cries.

"Ahhhhhhhhhh!" I begin to scream at the top of my lungs, slapping my hands on my ears.

"Evangeline!" She repeats.

I open my eyes to find Chris in front of me.

"Come with me" Chris begs, his eyes wide and fearful.

I take his hand and he guides me through the house. We enter a room that I assume is Sam's. It looks almost identical to his room back in New York. I sit on Sam's bed with Chris beside me.

"Are you okay?" He questions, looking into my eyes.

I shake my head violently.

"I can't breathe" I admit, trying to my hardest to draw a deep breath.

"I think you're having a panic attack" he admits, "I used to get them after Elise died"

"Your girlfriend?" I assume.

"Yeah" he nods.

I don't get anxiety/panic attacks for the same reason people with other disorders do. Mine are triggered by memories. By dark, polluted memories linked to my sister. Basements are my strongest trigger. The one I can't seem to ever overcome.

"There's no need to be alarmed" I reassure "its just my Post traumatic Stress Disorder"

Immediately I regret saying those four words out loud but when my heart rate slows down to normal and my ability to breathe returns, I feel safe with Chris.

"PTSD? Are you serious?" His eyes widened in concern.

I nod slowly, breathing deeply. "I was diagnosed when I was fourteen" I admit.

Chris pauses. "...can I ask what happened?" He asks slowly.

I take a deep breath, rubbing my dove tattoo with the palm of my hand. There's only one person that I've spoken about this with, and that person is Sam.

"My sister" I struggle to say. "Why do you think I see her? PTSD causes hallucinations...Outbursts of anger"

"What happened to her?" Chris asks.

I scoff, attempting to get rid of all the sadness in my voice. "Would you like the long version or short?" I raise a brow.

"I like long stories" he half-smiles with fear in his eyes.

I nod.

I don't know why I trust Chris. After all, he hasn't given me any reason to. There's something about him that feels so safe and familiar to me.

Here I go.

"Well it was a Saturday afternoon...my dad and my brother were out camping for the weekend so my sister Trisha and I were the only ones home...I was at Sa...my boyfriend's place for the day" I catch my self before taking a deep breath "when I came home it was dark...My father camps a lot so he had a stockpile of dehydrated foods and canned goods in the basement...I can't cook so I was told to take a can of soup and microwave it....this was a mistake" I shake my head.

Why would I say all this to Chris? I don't talk about that night because I don't want to traumatize people with my problems. So why is Chris suddenly an exception?

"Continue please" he begs "sometimes talking about it helps"

I nod "Okay...I went down to the basement to grab a can of soup...I climbed down those steps and flicked the light switch... In front of me was my sixteen-year-old sister...hanging from one of the beams...with a noose around her neck"

"Oh, Eva—" his eyes widen.

"She knew that I would find the body...my dad and brother weren't returning till the next day...she knew that I would be the one to find her body...I resent her so much for that...we think that she may have done it because of my mother"

"Your mum?" He furrows his brows.

The woman that took her own life twelve years ago — leaving her husband and three children behind.

"Yeah, she died when I was six," I tell him "depression is hereditary after all...But there's no use pondering over it now, right?"

"You've been carrying all this with you for all these years?" Chris sighs.

"Besides my ex-boyfriend, you're the only person that I've been able to speak about it with" I admit.

"If you ever need to talk to someone...just know that you can talk to me" Chris assures.

Everybody says that to me — whether or not they actually mean it, is another story. I can tell that Chris actually means it.

"Thank you for helping me..." I nod, "I'm exhausted and don't feel like partying...I'm gonna head home"

"Good night, Eva"

I half smile "good night, Chris" I say before swinging the door open to find Jenny on the other side with folded arms and a murderous gaze.

"How dare you" Jenny yells at me as I shut the door behind me.

"What?" I furrow my brows in confusion.

"You and Chris" she cries with tears running down her cheeks.

Me and Chris?

"What are you talking about?" I blink.

"You two having sex in Sam's bedroom"

Well, she can say the word 'sex', without blushing now. I guess that's progress.

"Jenny we weren't—" I assure.

"Save it!" She yells.

Oh, here we go. This is about her little crush. I don't have time for stupid little high school drama when I have actual problems going on in my life.

"I don't have time for this" I roll my eyes as pushing past her.

I climb down the staircase where I notice that the rooms were starting to fill up with teens.

"Where have you been?" Ned questions as sipping his beer.

"Tell Sam I'm leaving," I say simply.

"But Eva—" he begins to protest.

"Please" I beg, causing him to nod.

I'm tired, and Jenny screaming at me makes me want to get out of my ex-boyfriend's house even more.

I leave the house where I find my motorcycle. I jump on as putting on my helmet. I leave Sam's property and begin riding down the street.

Well, this has been an interesting hour. Sam was vulnerable, I told Chris about my PTSD, Chris asked me out, and Jenny hates me. God, I wish I just stayed home to watch The Flash.

I suddenly speed up without realizing, as a car cuts me off. My heart rate increases as I turn left to avoid collision with the other cars. I see a thick steel pole in the distance. My eyes widen.

Bang