Finding a Way | Adopted by Gerard Way

But She's Not Typical

The nightmares were like clockwork. Most of the time they were about Gerard, sometimes about the Millers, and one night I had one about the whole band. But I didn't go a night without at least a couple, they were always about a car crash, and I was always the only survivor. I've been afraid to go to sleep, but my exhaustion betrays me every night and it inevitably happens.

I, myself, was also functioning like clockwork: Wake up in the morning, get taken to school, ditch— I never did go back to The Box, though; I preferred to isolate myself completely— rush back to school to get picked up, go home and hide away in my room and refuse to come out.

But on Friday morning after a particularly gruesome nightmare I don't even want to recount, I accept that I can't afford to miss any more school. So I go despite how much I wish to stay home, or go hang out around that bridge I found. I do my absolute best to ignore the looks and whispers I'm sure I'm getting from students. I look about as weak and tired as I feel.

I thought I was getting into shape, what with my daily sit-ups and relentless pacing, hidden away in my room. Some might call it 'excessive', but to me, it's necessary. I guess the near complete lack of food intake does take a toll, but one who's effects I find satisfying in a sick, almost twisted way.

I'm fucked up, is what it boils down to. Gerard once told me it was okay to be messed up, and I almost believed him that day. But now, I realize I'm nowhere near being okay. And I thought I felt broken weeks ago? No, I was cracked in a few places, at best, but this past week has ground me into a fine powder. Climbing upstairs to my room is a chore at this point as taking simple steps has become draining.

I can't say I really care, though.

I simply stared blankly when my math teacher informed me that he'd be calling home this afternoon to inform my "legal guardian" that I was failing his class with an impressively low 29%.

The same blank stare sat on my face as Gerard drove me home after school, unchanging when he announced that it's finally Friday and he thought we could watch Back To The Future tonight. An unenthusiastic "sounds good" sufficed on my part.

And now, the moment I've been dreading deep down as I hear his voice ring out from downstairs. I don't know if it's anger, confusion, or just plain disappointment that I'm hearing as he calls, "Evelyn? Get down here for a minute." Maybe all three. Probably all three.

I enter the kitchen and stand as innocently as possible. He doesn't notice the invisible weight I'm already carrying on my shoulders.

"So, I just got a call from your school," he begins, then pauses as though he thinks I have anything to add; like I might defend myself because I'm obviously not a hundred percent innocent in this situation and I obviously know exactly what he's talking about.

Still, I stay silent.

"Care to explain yourself?" he asks finally.

"What are you referring to?" I ask slowly, and he gives me a pointed look. "Okay fine. Well... yeah, I skipped school. I just don't care anymore."

"You— what? You ditched school? Evelyn, your math teacher just called to tell me you're failing his class."

Oh shit. That. I forgot about that.

"I- I—" Failing to get any words out, I lower my gaze to the floor. I really fucked up this time.

"Did you only skip today?"

"Um, yeah," I mumble.

"Well what the fuck did you do all day then, Eve? And don't even try lying to me." Too late. My confidence, or should I say faux indifference, is squashed at the obvious anger now seeping into his voice.