For as long as Evelyn could remember, her home has never been a safe place. With the constant threat of her mother's erratic behaviour, Evelyn is nothing more than her punching bag.
But one day, she finds an abandoned poem left on a park bench, and...
It was late, in the dark depths of the night, as Evelyn was lying awake in bed. Her mind was a ravaging war of emotions that she couldn't shut down, especially not tonight. Red hot anger and self-contained frustration boiled beneath her skin, like a stove on low heat, and her mind ached for some sort of reprieve, some kind of outlet.
Getting out of bed, she tried taking in deep breaths, like the ones they taught her to do at the yoga class that Mother and her frequented every Saturday.
Breath in.
One...
Two...
Three...
Breathe out.
One...
Two...
Three...
But still, it wasn't enough.
Without being too sure of what she was doing, she headed to her desk and sat down. Observing the expanse of stationary before her, her hand hovered over one of the pens. With the uncertainty of a girl being thrust into a world she had no place in, she picked it up, the weight of it somewhat twofold.
For a few seconds, she just sat there, staring at the blankness of the paper before her. The clean slate that it provided her was almost daunting.
"This is stupid," she muttered to herself.
What was she even trying to do?
She didn't know the answer to that, but all she wanted was to switch off her mind for a bit. To turn it off, or mute it out or stifle it with a pillow for a few damn hours.
She gripped the pen a bit harder.
Swallowing the lump of emotion that was starting to build in her throat, she put pen to paper and began to write.
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The words were messy and borderline indiscernible, and the ink had smudged from the few delinquent tears that had managed to escape, but somehow, she'd managed to do it.
She felt a bit lighter that night as she tried to get to sleep.
• • •
The next day as the school came to an end, Evelyn waited outside the gates for a bit, until she noticed the familiar wash of golden-blonde hair. Pushing herself off of the wall, she headed down the street towards him.
"Hello Miss Evelyn," Darren said, giving her a soldier's salute.
"Hi."
"How are you?"
"I'm fine," she answered, playing with the hem jumper, knowing it was a tactic to distract herself from what was really on her mind.
They continued on walking for a bit, neither saying much of anything. For reasons unknown to her, a thin layer of heat started to suffocate her as they drew nearer to their street.
Just do it, she urged herself, wanting to be rid of such feeling.
"How's your, uh, writer's block?"
He looked at her, holding a hand to his heart. "Awe, it touched me that you care. Still the same as yesterday though."
Before she lost all courage, she pulled out a folded sheet of paper and put it in his hand. "Here, take this."
She tried to scurry off back towards the school before the exchange could progress, however he called out after her.
"Hey, wait one second," he said, grabbing her arm.
She pulled back just as fast, but stopped attempting to leaving.
The moments in which he opened the paper and started to read was a pure torture that she hadn't expected to feel. As his eyes scoured over the words she'd written less than a day ago, vulnerability and uncertainty started to seep into her bones.
She didn't like this unfamiliar sensation, and the way it made her heart race to another beat.
Slowly, his lips began to quirk upwards.
"So you are a writer! I had a hunch, but you can never be too sure with these things."
She scoffed, shaking her head. Writing one measly poem definitely did not make her a poet. "Um, no I am not. I just... I just did that as a one off. But I thought it might help... with the writer's block. Like to give you inspiration, or something."
"Well, either way, thank you," he said, his gaze full of all the authenticity in the world. "That's really kind of you."
"Yeah, don't mention it" was all she muttered, contending with a sudden onslaught of embarrassment for some reason.
"Heading home?" He asked, motioning in the direction of their street.
She was, but she knew that she couldn't be seen walking with him.
"No, I have debate club actually," she said, instead resolving to partially lie.
"Debate club?" He raised his eyebrows.
"Yes, debate club. It may not seem like it, but I'm fully capable to hashing it out with someone when I need to."
He looked at her intently, his hazel eyes clear and intense. "I'm not judging you— I just didn't expect it'd be something you're into is all. You don't need to justify yourself."
"Yeah, well," she sighed. "I'm following my mother's footsteps, all the way to Oxford university in fact."
"Wow, Oxford!" His sudden outburst caused her to jolt. "That's amazing Evelyn."
"Yeah..."
He furrowed his eyebrows. "Okay, is this just how you express your excitement, or am I missing something here?"
It wasn't that she was unhappy about such a situation, it wasn't often that you'd find someone who could say what she just did, but for some reason, there was always something hidden in the back of her mind that made her falter.
A little nagging worry, the smallest of insecurities, that she couldn't quite envisage, but knew was there nonetheless. It unsettled her that that feeling could eventually snag onto another thought, and spread like a disease across her life.
She shook her head, plastering on a small smile. "No, of course this is great. It's a once in a lifetime opportunity. Anyway, I'll be late. See you around." She paused for a second, and amended herself. "I mean, bye."
She walked back to the school gates, waiting for him to disappear down the road. It was only when he became nothing but a spec in the distance when she let herself think back to his reaction upon reading what she wrote.
For some reason or another, he'd seemed to like it.
The thought filled her something she seldom ever found herself encountering. She tried to push it down as she made her way home.
But there was no stopping the little, persistent wisps that rose from the masses, leaving her unable to forget, unable to suppress.
