The Outskirts (new version)

chapter 1

Evelyn woke up, stretched, and let out a loud sigh. She grabbed her notebook that she hid underneath her pillow and started to write. 
I had a weird dream last night, not any weirder than the dreams I usually have. I dreamed I was in a field of grass, dotted with flowers. Except I wasn’t on the ground, I was flying, there were birds all around me and they brought me up to the clouds. I sat down on the clouds and this beautiful girl walked up to me she kissed my cheek and everything around me became pastel colored and I thanked her. Then I woke up.
Underneath she wrote:
I wish things were as nice as my dreams. I wish things weren’t as horrible, and scary. I can’t belive im still writing in this book, and I haven't given up on this. I don't want to go to work, why can’t I write what I want to write, this is terrible. I want to create what I want. 
She closed the book and put it back under the mattress. She was already falling behind on work, because she would avoid doing any of it because she couldn’t stand it. She had to sit around and type stories about things that she could barely pretend to agree with. She wrote about people being caught breaking the primary laws. None of these laws did she agree with. But she could never say that out loud. She wrote about it in her notebook many, many times but she couldn't let anyone know that she had it. 
Evelyn decided to start the notebook after a year of working at her job in the media department. In her head, she called it the department of fear and lies. Because that’s all she wrote about. Lies about how everything is fine, the air is becoming less polluted, there’s less war over resources. When in reality, she overhears her boss whenever she walks past his office, talking about how the exact opposite is going on. Then he comes over to her and tells her to write that everything is fine. She also writes about people who are doing the same things she’s been doing. Writing and drawing. Writing and drawing things that people aren't allowed to. She wished she could somehow look at what these people create before god knows what happened to them, but she can’t. They get set on fire and the 'criminal' gets sent away. She needed to know what was so bad, what was so horrible and heinous that these people need to be persecuted. 
She slumped back on her couch and reluctantly put on her stockings and shoes. She was tired of feeling anxious. Not a single soul knew of her journal’s existence, but at the same time what if she looked suspicious? Her boss always said that people who broke the primary laws had ‘a certain look to them’ what if she did? What if he realized already and just hasn't said anything yet. 
Evelyn ran to the bathroom to rinse her face holding back tears, “Why am I like this?” she said. “Why can’t I be like everyone else and not need to break the rules. Why do I seem to be the only one I know who thinks everything is… wrong? I don't want to be alone.” she sobbed.
“I don't want to please, I just need someone to understand.” she murmured.
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After spending cleaning up and riding the bus to work, Evelyn had finally clocked in, three minutes late, third time this week. 
“Evelyn!” Her boss boomed. “Why were you late AGAIN!?” her boss towered over her, he was about six feet tall, had eyes that pierced through her like daggers. Evelyn was about ready to crumble.
“It- it was the bus… there was a lot of uh traffic today…” she stammered. 
“I need you to find an alternative route to work. You can't keep being late like this!” He complained, “Get to work, you have a lot of writing to do.” 
“Yes sir.” She said and walked over to her cubicle. 
Evelyn worked in one of the higher up jobs due to how she had excelled in school throughout her childhood and adulthood. All from elementary to college her writing was the best in her class. She used to be proud of it, until she realized what she would be using her skills for.  Now she was seen as the lowest of her peers, because of her ‘attendance and her attitude’. She didn't like her job, but she cared about getting caught, which is why she ended up doing it all last minute. Countless times she wrote what she really wanted to say in her notebook, but typed out what she was told to write instead. Her ‘attitude’ problem was that she constantly spaced out during work. Tapping her fingers on the desk, constantly getting up and down to go to the bathroom, shifting in her seat. She always got her work done, just not as effectively as her boss would want her to. The only reason she hadn’t been fired yet is because of how well she wrote. 
Everyone else around her seemed completely immersed in what they were supposed to do. The man next to her was hunched over, his face almost pressed to his computer screen, typing away. The woman opposite to her gave her the stink eye once she noticed Evelyn was looking at her, then she went back to what she was doing. She had piles of papers on her desk that she continued to flip  through and scribble on. She barely knew anything about these people despite working with them for 3 years. Socializing during work or break wasn't encouraged and nobody ever bothered to meet up after work. But all she did was type,stare at the ceiling, and then type some more. Every day this goes on for 8 hours until the day is over. 
    After work she decided to walk home instead of taking the bus. She did this at least once every few weeks to get her mind off things. As the sun set on the city, the street lights turned on, leaving all the roads completely hushed. Evelyn walked down the road very carefully. Not because of anyone who might want to hurt her, but because it was almost curfew. She needed time to herself, she needed a time when she wasn't trapped in her cubicle or in her apartment. It felt like a prison.   She found this old abandoned playground on one of the routes she took home. It had probably sat there for about half a century, based on how run down it was. The equipment was rusted and broken. There were big holes drilled through the ground and the plants around it were completely overgrown. It was placed behind a small apartment building, parallel to the forest at the edge of the city. Evelyn wasn't supposed to be anywhere near here but she walked through this area anyway, she knew that she wouldn’t be caught since no one patrolled here. She carefully opened the gate and sat down on the bench. She took a deep sigh and closed her eyes for a moment. She imagined what this playground once looked like, bright and colorful, filled with kids running around having fun. Even what kids did now was depressing. They were put to work in schools unless they were physically fit enough to be put in training for labor work. She let out an even louder sigh once she let it sink in that she had work again tomorrow. 
“Do I even care about getting caught or fired or whatever?” she wondered, “Death seems less horrible than the torture of  writing lies everyday, and not having anyone who I can share my feelings with.” she started to cry again.