Page 3 of Fall

I look down to see the dried blood on my hands, my shirt, my jeans.Micah. My heart squeezes as I clench my eyes tight. Micah was shot. Hades is Elijah’s father. My sister is gone. My mind swirls with a whirlpool of images—old and new—drowning me in sensations and emotions. This is too much.

Taylor places his hand on my shoulder, and I nearly jump out of my skin. Fuck!

“Easy, Evie. I’m just trying to help you up. You need a shower. And then, we need to talk.”

They don’t understand—I can’t control my thoughts. I’m slowly losing control.

Taylor and Celeste try to help me up, and the movement is overwhelming. I can’t stop the onslaught of emotions or the panic attack from coming. I don’t know how to tell them that I’m scared. I don’t want to hurt them. My breath is short and choppy. I can’t calm my mind.

I look at Celeste and see the fear reflected in her eyes. That one look stills my mind, if only for a moment. Long enough for me to find my voice. I say the one thing I swore I would never say again.

“Help me,” I whisper.

With a nod, she grabs my hand, places her other hand at the small of my back, and ushers me to the bathroom. She coddles me, asking me to focus on putting one foot in front of the other. Ivy used to say that.

Celeste undresses me, peeling me out of my blood-soaked clothes, and to my surprise, I let her. She leans over to help me remove my underwear, and she softly whispers‘Jesus’at the sight of my scars. As if Jesus would ever help me.

Somehow, I manage to get in the shower and stand under the hot stream. I focus my attention on how the water feels running down my body and try to regulate my breathing.

“I’m gonna get you some fresh clothes. There’s a towel behind the door. Just come out when you’re ready, okay?”

I nod slightly, keeping my head down as she closes the shower curtain and walks out.

What the hell am I going to do?

I let the steady stream wash away Micah’s blood, and with every breath I take, a little more of my control comes back. By the time the water runs cold, I’m back to me again. I get out, wrap the towel around me, wipe the fogged mirror with my hand, and startle at the sight.

I rarely see Ivy anymore, but now I’m looking right at her, and she looks pissed.

“You are Evelyn Marie Hawton,”I hear her say.“Fear does not control you. You are better than this, Evelyn.”

Before I can even think about responding, the mirror fogs up again. When I wipe it once more, my sister is already gone.Sigh. I need you, Ivy.

I take another minute to examine the woman before me. Her violet-blue eyes look bruised and tired, but still strong. She has scars, but she’s not dead. I close my eyes and decide that my sister is right yet again. No more running, no more fear.

I straighten my spine and step out of the bathroom in search of Celeste and the fresh clothes she promised.

“Always right on time for coffee,” she says with a smile as I round the corner to the kitchen. She hands me a mega mug of caffeine with milk and foam. “You feeling better?”

“I do.” I nod. “Where’s Taylor?”

Her eyes dance with something mischievous before she speaks. “I kicked him out. I know how much youlovetalking and being open with people, but I figured you might like some time before he starts the Spanish Inquisition.”

Hot coffee sprays out of my mouth at her comment. “Cele, you and I both know that’s bullshit. YOU are the interrogator of all interrogators.” I genuinely laugh, and honestly, it feels damn good.

“I know that.” She shrugs, still smiling. “I also know that whatever you went through this morning wasn’t a walk in the park and figured you might just need some time.”

I shake my head. “You’re too good to me.”

“I am. Lucky for you, I’ve already decided that I’m keeping you.” She gives me a cheeky wink and points to the clothes neatly folded on the counter. “Put the clothes on, leave the towel, and I’ll give you the grand tour of Casa de Celeste. We can veg out in front of the TV tonight and munch on junk food.”

I look at her through narrowed eyes. “Who are you, and what have you done with Celeste? The Celeste I know would demand to know what happened and why I showed up at her house with blood on my clothes.”

Her shoulders sag. “Yea, well. That Celeste didn’t understand how hard it is to talk about things. Come on. Move your ass and I’ll order pizza.” And just like that, her smile is back—a little forced, but back.

I put on a pair of oversized sweatpants, wondering who they actually belong to while I tie the loose strings so that the pants sit just over my hips. I pull on the black skull hoodie she placed there for me and think I might have to keep this one to add to my collection. Once I’m fully dressed, I let her give me the grand tour.

“You’ve been here since spring break?” I ask, genuinely curious. Not that I want to bring up what made her come here—I’m not sure she’s ready to talk about that, and neither am I.

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