Do you ever have one of those mornings where you just wish nighttime could have gone on a little longer? When your bed feels like the only safe space in the entire world, unraveling yourself from you blankets the biggest feat? And your chest feels heavy, like you're tied down to your bed? But you're not sad, just void of emotion.

I've been having one of those mornings for too long now.

It really hit me the morning after my date with Emerald, AKA the best night of my life. I was positively beaming when Gerard picked us up from the park. I didn't let the excited squeal leave my lips until Em got out of the car and ran into her house and out of the cold, waving from the door step before slipping inside.

"I guess you had a good time, then?" Gerard chuckled.

I nodded excitedly. "It was the best! The only bad part is I forgot her gift at home, but I'll give it to her at school."

"What'd you two get up to, anyway?"

"Um—" My mind then flashed to my back pressed against the park bench, her and I breathing heavily, the heat of our bodies on top of each other— "We just hung out."

Gee snickered.

That was a couple weeks ago, though, and when I woke up from it it felt like a dream. The magic drained from my chest, because I realized something.

That date felt too much like a goodbye.

It felt like the closing of something beautiful that should go on forever, but the crushing realization that today is the first day of March makes the very real possibility of being torn away from her and everything else I love settle.

I don't even have the motivation to spill it all in the form of a poem, the last one I wrote being a draft of something I wanted to stick in Em's Valentine's gift box. I scrapped it. The product felt too forced, because I've never written a poem about love before. It felt too cheesy, because what love poem doesn't? And it didn't feel good enough for her.

"Evie?" Gerard's voice sounds from the other side of my bedroom door.

"Come in," I groan, my speech muffled by my blankets.

He pushes the door open. "You alive?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" I ask, without even poking my head out of my sheets.

"'Cause it's almost 11AM and you're still in bed?" Gee says in a duh tone. "You feeling okay?"

Physically? I guess so. Mentally? Fuck no.

"Yeah, Dad, the outside world is just so cold. I don't wanna leave my bed," I say, sinking deeper into my sheets.

"At least be up before Linds and I get back."

This causes me to finally sit up and brush away the hair that's fallen in front of my eyes with my fingers. "Back? Where are you going?"

"We have a meeting with the lawyer today, remember?" I can now see that he's standing, leaning against my doorway. He's got a winter jacket and boots on, already prepared to leave the house.

"Oh, right."

He crosses my room and kisses my head. "We'll be back in a couple hours, love you." Then, he leaves just as quickly as he came.

"Love you, too," I whisper.

Within a couple minutes I faintly hear the front door open, and then swing shut. The unmistakable sound of the car pulling out of the driveway comes next.

I'm alone and it's only going to happen more frequently as the court date approaches.

Perhaps it's the fact that I haven't seen Em's face for a couple days, or that I couldn't concentrate during a French test on Friday and Charlotte rubbed in her 100% to my 75% in my face. Or maybe it's just the relief of being home alone so that I don't have to hide my feelings anymore, but I can't take it. I can't take the nagging in my brain, the force pulling me toward my bathroom, or the itching of my skin.

But maybe it's just the pills that I've been holding between my teeth instead of swallowing.

When things fall apart we tend to go back to places that comfort us. For me, the court case is a wrecking ball, destroying my world that I've already had to rebuilt, and letting myself feel the full force of my anxiety and depression, neglecting my wellbeing, destroying myself, is my comfort.

I pull my sheets off of my body and roll out of bed, shuddering when my feet hit the cold floor. I'm hungry for breakfast, and I promise myself that I'll go get something to eat after this.

Without even remembering the steps that I took to get here, I find myself standing in front of my mirror. My hair is a mess, my face reflects the exhaustion that I feel, and my hands tremble as I reach for the razor on my counter.

My heart is beating out of my chest, but I need this. I need to feel something other than the pain I already feel; the pain I can't control.

This pain, I will be able to control.

When I hold the cold blade in the palm of my hand, staring as it glints in the artificial light of the bathroom, it feels similar to when I held a pile of painkillers the night I was taken to the hospital. I remember how certain I felt in that moment that what I was wanting to do was necessary. I feel the same way now.

I know if I do this I'll be going against everything Gerard has told me, everything I told my own girlfriend when she was struggling after her dad left.

I also know that I'm desperate.

And I also know that this won't be the last time. Not after the bliss I feel from seeing my own blood, from feeling a different kind of pain than I've ever felt before. It only takes one cut to get hooked on that.

• • •

Gerard said they'd only be gone a couple hours, so when 4PM rolls around, and I'm still alone in the living room, bouncing my leg nervously as I sit on the couch, I begin to get worried. Wouldn't he call if he knew they'd be this late? Wouldn't Lindsey think to let me know, at least? They say two heads are better than one, but neither of them could figure out how to pick up a phone and call me?

It's all in your head, Eve, they're probably fine, I remind myself. Probably.

I just need to distract myself. My ukulele sits untouched in my room, as always, but that's all the way upstairs. I could turn the TV on, but nothing good is ever on on Sundays.

Just when I feel my anxiety start to get the best of me, the urge to pace the floor growing stronger with every steadily quickening breath I take, my phone buzzes. Snatching it up off the couch next to me, I read a text not from Gerard or Lindsey, but from Mikey: Hey Eve

Evelyn: hi

Mikey: What's up?

Evelyn: waiting for dad and linds to get back

they've been gone forever

Mikey: Court case stuff, I'm guessing?

Evelyn: that's right

Mikey: So what have you been up to with the house to yourself?

I subconsciously tug on the sleeves of my hoodie before typing, maybe a bit too quickly, nothing really just watching TV

Mikey: Right on. How are you doing?

Okay, I might just be overthinking this, and I know we've grown close, but this message is very out of the blue. Before, I can stop myself, I dart my head up, looking around the room as though I'm going to see Mikey standing there, a knowing look on his face.

Of course, I'm alone. He has no reason to be suspicious. Still, I pull the sleeves of my hoodie down lower, making sure they're covering my wrists completely.

Mikey: Eve?

My phone buzzes in my hand again as I realize I never did answer his question.

Evelyn: about the whole court thing or just in general??

Mikey: Just in general. I want to know how you've been.

Evelyn: oh well I'm fine I guess

same as always

why?

Oh, how easy it is to lie when the person whom you're lying to isn't even in the same house. I don't even feel guilty.

Mikey: I just felt the sudden urge to make sure you were okay.

Evelyn: oh

Mikey: Want me to come over so you don't have to wait alone?

Evelyn: don't you have a girlfriend you'd rather hang out with than me?

Mikey: I always have time for you.

Evelyn: actually it's fine gee just got home

I turn my phone off and toss it to the side, Ignoring the next buzz. I thought that last message had been a lie, too, but right on cue, the front door clicks open.

"We're home!" Gerard calls, probably thinking that I'm up in my room.

I launch myself off the couch and nearly collide with him in the hallway. "Please tell me next time you're gonna be late. I was really worried."

"Gee can take the blame for this one," Linds says, hanging her coat up. "My phone died a couple hours ago."

"Dad, why didn't you call me?" I didn't realize just how shaken up I was about them being gone so long until I hear my voice break. My emotions are all over the place lately.

"We just lost track of time, we were really busy," he says apologetically, hugging me.

I tear myself from his grasp, then, the relief I felt from seeing the two of them finally return, is replaced with frustration. "Lost track of time? I thought you guys were, like, dead or something!"

"We're not dead, Evie, we're fine!"

I feel like saying, but I'm not, but I hold my tongue, spinning on my heel and heading to my room. Before I get on the stairs, though, I throw over my shoulder, "Just don't fucking forget about me next time and call."

I go to bed early that night, but toss and turn for hours. What if something had happened? What if they'd gotten in a car wreck just like the Millers did and then I'd be even more alone?

For the first time in a long, long time, I wake up in the middle up the night, bolting up in bed, covered in sweat.

Thanks to that fucking nightmare, red car and all.