Chapter Ten
Seventeen Years Ago - Evelyn
“MOM?”
My hand looks so small against her cold body as I try again and again to wake her up.
“Mom?”
I know what the cold usually means, at least what it means in the movies I’m too young to watch, but it can’t be true. Her eyes flash open, black soulless pits that don’t belong to my mother. Scooting back as quickly as I can, I slip and slam my elbow onto the dirty, tiled floor.
She points a broken finger at me. “You did this to me.”
Tears start streaming down my face and I open my mouth to tell her it wasn’t my fault, that I tried to help her, but nothing comes out.
“You stole all my dreams away. I was beautiful before you ruined my body. I was going places if it hadn’t been for you.”
I shake my head, wishing she’d take back the words.
“I was only with those men because you took away all of my other options.” She takes a few more broken steps. “You forced my hand, and this is all your fault.”
Tucking my knees to my chest, I rock back and forth, covering my ears. Then she’s grabbing my hair, pulling it too hard. A scream builds in my throat, but nothing comes out as she begins to shake me.
“Evie.”
Her voice is different now.
“Evie!”
I wish she’d stop shaking me.
“EVELYN! WAKE UP!”
I throw my body forward, gasping for air, barely able to get any air down. The room is unfamiliar and panic climbs up my throat, but someone is sitting in front of me with their hands on my shoulders. A boy with dark hair and dark eyes, more open than I’ve ever seen them.
I know that boy.
Ryder.
“Come on, Evie, just take one slow breath. With me. Just like this.” Ryder takes a deep breath in through his nose and out through his mouth.
I follow his breaths. Over and over.
Eventually I can breathe again, but my eyes feel heavy, just like my heart.
“It was just a nightmare, Evie. You’re okay now.”
I let my head fall forward, unable to carry the weight of my thoughts anymore. Being seven shouldn’t be this hard. The tears keep streaming down my face, and I don’t have it in me to wonder whether Ryder should see me cry or not.
“You’re okay.” Ryder reaches around and gently rubs my back.
My stomach still squeezes with nausea, but I breathe through it, looking hard for that brave face I’ve held. “You’re. A. Real. Mother. Hen. Type.”
Ryder snorts.
“Is this typical for you then? Sneaking into people’s rooms at night?”
“No.” The word hangs in the air.
“Oh.”
“None of the other kids have woken me up in the middle of the night with their screaming. I thought–” He shakes his head, shuddering a little, making me wonder whether this house is any safer than my old one. “Your face was screwed up into something horrible and you looked scared. It felt wrong to leave you like that.”
“Well, I’m awake now.” I shrug, an awful example of bravery. “You can go if you want.”
Pause. “Want to talk about your nightmare?”
I shake my head.
“Okay.” Ryder stands up. “Think you can fall back asleep then?”
I shake my head again, feeling for a second like I’ve lost my words. Ryder stands there for a second like he might stay, but I’m too tired to tell him to go away.
Too tired to speak, yet I can’t sleep. How terrible.
“Do you like music?”
What kind of question is that? “Of course I like music.”
“Good.” Ryder plops down, before shoving me to the very other side of my small bed.
“HEY–”
“Shhh!” Ryder smacks his hand over my mouth. “You’ll wake up the whole house! Just move over.”
A smidge of annoyance starts to outweigh the fear and nausea, and it’d be a lie if I said I wasn’t grateful for it. So, I move over, but only a little bit. Ryder moves my pillow with me, so his head lies flat against the mattress.
I frown. “You can share some of my pillow if you want.”
“I don’t like pillows.”
“Well, that’s just weird. I love pillows. The more the merrier.”
“I’ll give you mine, then. I never use it.”
“Okay.” Who could say no to more pillows?
“Close your eyes.”
“Are you going to put a booger on my face or something?”
“Fuck’s sake, Evie.”
Fuck’s sake. I add the phrase to the growing list of bad words I’ve learned.
“Just close your eyes.”
I do.
A moment later, Ryder starts to hum. It’s no song that I’ve ever heard before, and maybe calling it humming is a big, fat understatement. His voice is something special, it’s not just a voice. How does one even make such beautiful sounds?
As I concentrate on the way his voice goes up and down, I commit every bit of the song to memory. Something eases in my mind, allowing my chest to loosen its grip around my lungs. My eyes begin to remain closed on their own, without me having to force them to stay shut.
I lie like that for a while, feeling more and more at ease, until somewhere along the way, his lullaby leads me all the way back to sleep.