𝔼𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕘𝕣𝕖𝕖𝕟

Chapter 1 : Meeting Ivy

**17th of December, 2018**

We, the Jury, find the defendant Tristan Deféo guilty of rape, physical abuse, and emotional abuse in the case of Ivy Katherine Bellow.

Thank you, Jury, for your service today.

Court is adjourned.

---

**4th of January, 2020**

L.A. is hot.

Alex feels ready to face the heat, though Tyler has been on his case all week about how *L.A. is not London*. "Don’t bring anything but those weird shirts of yours," Tyler had warned. Honestly, Alex would prefer to call them *colorful*.

He knows it’ll take some time to adjust to the weather, but after years of planning, he’s finally here. If that means living with his best friend until he finds his own place, a bit of sunburn is a small price to pay.

And of course, he’s excited to meet Ivy.

Tyler has rarely spoken about her. He knows Ivy isn’t related to Tyler by blood, but they grew up together in some orphanage, and Tyler became her legal guardian when they left.

Alex has never seen a picture of Ivy or heard her voice. He’s been friends with Tyler since they were twelve, and now, at twenty-five, he knows surprisingly little about her.

That’s about to change.

He might’ve been overly confident about the heat, though. By the time he reaches the Bellow residence, he's drenched in sweat.

He rings the doorbell several times, ignoring Tyler’s annoyed “coming!”

The door flings open to reveal a grinning Tyler.

“Took you long enough!”

Alex chuckles, relieved. “Forgive me for not having control over L.A. traffic, asshole.”

Tyler laughs and flips him off, leading him to the kitchen.

---

An hour later, Alex feels at home.

Maybe it’s the quiet Friday evening, the two of them drinking tea in the kitchen, or the house itself—perfectly clean, reminding him of his own place back in London. Whatever it is, he’s enjoying the comfort.

“So, where’s Ivy?” he asks.

Tyler frowns into his tea. “She should be here soon.”

“Oh! That’s cool. I’m excited!”

Tyler mutters something under his breath, almost inaudible: “I wouldn’t be.”

Alex catches the shift in his friend’s tone but doesn’t get a chance to ask. A door slams, followed by a soft “Ty? I’m home.”

When he turns, a girl stands by the door, stiff and tense. Ivy, he guesses.

He feels his entire body soften.

Ivy is beautiful.

Her small, round nose, pink lips, and disheveled chocolate waves frame her face. Her big, golden eyes, framed by impossibly long lashes, are fixed on him with an intensity that makes Alex feel both captivated and unsettled. She looks younger than twenty-two, and something about her—something tired—pulls at him.

She doesn’t seem as thrilled to see him.

Tyler notices immediately. He walks over to her, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear with a gentle touch. “This is Alex, yeah? Best friend from London? I told you he’d be living with us for a bit.”

He speaks softly, as though comforting her.

Ivy eyes Alex warily, then steps closer. When she’s within reach, she stands motionless, her gaze never leaving his face.

“I’m Ivy.”

Alex smiles, charmed by the softness of her voice, though her eyes remain dark and uninviting. He extends his hand, hoping to break the ice. “Hey, I’m Alex. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Her eyes flick to his hand as if it’s some kind of offense, and she recoils, turning abruptly to leave the room.

Alex’s smile falters. L.A. suddenly feels cold.

---

Alex didn’t know what he expected Ivy to be like, but it wasn’t this.

He’s been living with the Bellows for a week now, and he hasn’t exchanged more than a few words with Ivy.

After the awkward greeting, Tyler brushed it off, claiming Ivy had been having a bad day before he arrived. But after a few days, Alex realized Tyler was just trying to make him feel better. Ivy wasn’t warming up to him.

Not at all.

The first night he spent in L.A., Alex couldn’t sleep. He remembered his mother’s advice about drinking tea for insomnia, but as he passed Ivy’s bedroom, he thought he heard crying.

He considered knocking but hesitated. After all, getting Ivy to shake his hand had been a struggle. He doubted she would want comfort from him.

He’d thought about her crying all night, but by the time he got back to his room, the thought of tea had slipped away. He eventually fell asleep.

In the morning, he mentioned it to Tyler. “I thought I heard Ivy crying last night.”

Tyler shrugged. “It happens most nights. Don’t worry about it.”

The comment only made Alex more confused. It became clear Tyler wasn’t keen on offering more details about his sister.

Things only got stranger.

Over the past week, Alex had been watching Ivy, trying to understand her—what she liked, how she acted.

And it turns out, Ivy likes to worry.

She never eats the food Alex makes. She doesn’t drink from anything but her purple water bottle. And she always tunes out for a few minutes during meals.

The first time Alex noticed this, he looked at Tyler for an explanation. Tyler just shook his head, as though to say, *It’s fine. It’s not your fault.*

Ivy seems to check everything—her clothes, her keys, the locks.

When she goes to bed, she locks and unlocks her door multiple times—seven times on Tuesday.

Alex notices other things too. Ivy flinches at every loud sound. A plate crashing, a gunshot on TV, cars honking outside—anything sudden makes her flinch.

She’s constantly alert, constantly bracing for something.

But what confuses Alex the most is how she reacts to physical contact.

She doesn’t seem to mind Tyler’s touch. In fact, she willingly accepts it. But when the delivery guy brought something to the door, Ivy took the package, and the moment their hands brushed, she flinched. She dropped the package, stared at her trembling hand, and frowned deeply.

It’s clear Ivy isn’t comfortable with physical contact—*unless it’s Tyler.*

Alex doesn’t think he’s the problem. But it’s still unsettling.

He can’t help but think how exhausting it must be, living in constant fear.