metanoia

Chapter Eleven

(A. N. : http://www.polyvore.com/m/set?.embedder=4111484&.svc=copypaste&id=133960134 attached is a link to Evie's typical outfit when she's just hanging with Michael, along with the rainbow of vodkas and myriad of pills she owns. Just in case anyone was wondering.)

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Evie didn't fight me about therapy for 2 weeks. We got along happily. It was so perfect. One day, she even came home from therapy with a smile on her face.

"I love therapy." She said through her smile, wrapping me in a hug.

"I'm glad." I smiled. "Want to go walk?" I asked.

"No, I've got something to do for the nursing home. Can you go to the grocery store and pick me up a carton of milk and some cookies, though?"

I nodded, said "Sure.", and walked out the door.

I paced the aisles in search of soft chocolate chip cookies, Evie's favorite. I even picked her up a jumbo box of tea bags and some coffee beans. I had to go to three different stores to find the cup she'd been looking at, but I got it. I'd been gone about half an hour, and when I got back, I heard lots of happy giggles. I smiled and opened the door.

My smile melted.

Evie was surrounded by Xanax, three pill bottles I'd never seen before, three bottles of vodka, and a big knife, giggling like a maniac as she poked the Xanax in the bag.

"Evangeline!" I shouted.

"Miiiiikeyyyyyyyyy!" she slurred. "Wanna pill?" she held out a handful of white capsules.

"What the hell?" I shouted, batting Evie's hand away and sending the pills flying.

"Noooooo!" she giggled, chasing after the pills on her hands and knees. "My babiesss!"

I ran over to her and picked her up. "Evangeline!"

"Yeahhh..." she smiled. "You're really hot."

"How many did you take?"

"How many who?"

"How many pills!"

"I had a headache, so I took those thingies, and I drank lots of vodka." she have me a wide grin. "I love therapy."

"Evie!" I growled. Her eyes were drooping. "What are these?" I picked up an empty bottle with my free hand.

"They make me sleep..." she laughed. "I love therapy."

"Oh my God." I said. "We're going to the hospital." I rushed out the front door and started walking. We were about 5 blocks away.

"I love therapyyy. I love therapyyy. I love Michael. I love pills. I love therapyyyyyyy." she chanted. "Thera-peeeeeee!"

"Shut up!" I shouted. I couldn't take her screaming for 5 blocks.

"Shut up!" she giggled. "Shut upppp, shut upppp, shut up shut up shut up!" she sang. All I could do was roll my eyes and be glad she was still alive.

"I'm so happyyyyyy! I'm walkin' on sunshine!" she squealed. "I've never been so happy! I love therapy!" she was wriggling in my arms. We had three blocks to go. "I'm horny!" she shouted. She craned her neck and kissed me, nearly making me puke. The taste of vodka and cigarette smoke always kills me. I'll always miss the Evie kisses that tasted like candy. I kept thinking of happy Evie as I walked to the hospital, listening to her sing and attempt to make out with me. I was sure this was it. I knew she was going to die.