Found : A Dan Howell Fanfiction

Part 1 : Introductions

Evelyn Grimes slammed the door to her empty apartment, leaned her back against the door, and heaved a big sigh. She slid down to the floor, hugging her knees, closing her eyes and letting the darkness creep in on her. She looked up at her grey apartment; the freezer locked, the pillows from the couch all over the floor. She left her purse sitting in front of the door, and walked slowly around the corner into her bathroom. She stopped and stood in front of the mirror. She looked at her smudged mascara, and her frizzy, dark brown hair. To her, she looked a complete mess. Evelyn put her hands on the edges of the sink and leaned into the counter, staring down. There were still some dark, dried specks of blood on the white surface from when she had cut her wrist last night. She had been stressed out about her art final, and she couldn't bare the fact that she might fail, so to cope, she had purged on popcorn and ice cream, then thrown up 10 minutes later, and cut herself to punish herself for doing such a thing. The razor peeked from its case, sitting next to the faucet on the counter. She must have forgotten to put it away. Its tinted, thin blade tempted her so, and she had to greatly fight the urge to reach over and slit her thigh, right above the hem of her red dress. She imagined the subtle pain, as she slid the metal across her skin, cutting open her flesh, and watching the new wound trickle with the sight of red blood. Evelyn shook her head, freeing herself from the morbidly pleasing daydream. She knew what she was doing wasn't healthy, but she felt she could do nothing to stop herself. Evelyn dragged herself out of the bathroom and into her bedroom, throwing herself down onto the unmade bed, and groaning loudly. She could see the empty box of granola bars on the floor over near her dresser, from her purge a few days ago. The apartment smelled of perfume, blood and air freshners, from trying to mask the scent of vomit in the bathroom. Evelyn rose her head from the buried mess of her covers, suddenly craving red velvet. She got up and ran to the fridge, the only thing on her mind being to get food in her stomach. She swung open the door to the fridge, frantically looking inside for something to eat. What she found nothing but a half gallon of milk and some bananas. It wouldn't be enough. Evelyn slammed the door shut, and ran to the cabinet to see what was there. A giant bag of potato chips. Perfect. She snatched the bag off the shelf, tore it open in a frantic haste and started to put chip after chip in her mouth. By the time that 10 minutes had passed, Evelyn had eaten the whole bag. She sat on the floor of the kitchen, hugging her knees, feeling terribly about what she had just done. She then stood, and walked solemly to the bathroom, locking the door behind her as she walked in, even though there was no one else in the apartment. Evelyn lifted the lid to the toilet, sat down, and started to shove her two fingers down her throat. She gagged multiple times, but it took five tries for her to get the chips back up again, and into the toilet. She sat next to the toilet, throat and eyes burning, ready to start sobbing again. She wouldn't wallow in her self pity. Evelyn collected herself, stood, and grabbed the razor from the sink counter. She pulled it out of its case, and proceeded to find a place to cut. She decided on her thigh, because it was the easies place to hide. She took the blade and slid it cleanly across her left thigh, slowly, so that the pain would set in midway through. When she finished the cut, she looked down at it, and how the trickle of blood looked like a red tear, streaming down the cheek of the open wound. She cut her thigh three more times, then her wrist once, to finish herself off. She then dropped the blade on the floor with a clink, and with that she sat on the floor of the bathroom, leaning against the tub, and relishing in her own pain and self-awareness. She closed her eyes, and imangined the blood making a small pool on the floor, collecting until it filled the room and drowned her in a sea of ruby colors. Evelyn opened her eyes, but she did not see the blood she longed to hear drown out her inner cries of anguish. She only saw the white paint on the bathroom wall opposite of her, and the sink, looking like a giant from her place on the floor. Her face started to crumple, and she felt the tears behind her eyes, breaking through the dam she had built to hold them back. Suddenly, she heard a knock on the front door, and someone yelling her name through it.