I haven't felt this low in a long, long time. It's like when Eve left she took a piece of me with her, something in my chest, and it leaves me feeling hollow. Empty. Lindsey's warm hand squeezing mine can't even distract me from how broken I feel. I can't even bring myself to comfort her, as tears drip slowly from her eyes while she gazes down the road along with everyone else.

Nothing feels real. The memory of the car that's now out of sight is hazy, like it was never really there. But it was and I'm still staring at the place it used to be parked.

I thought nothing felt real when Evelyn first entered my life. I felt elated. Like I was walking on clouds. The thought of living the rest of my life with this kid in it was my idea of perfect. Growing up, I could never see myself settling down, getting married, and much less raising a child of my own. She managed to make that intangible idea— one I rejected for myself for so long, even thought I didn't deserve— a reality. Now, all the moments I was looking forward to witnessing or even guiding her through, all the lessons I wanted to teach her, all the memories I wanted to make with her...

All cut short.

All I ever wanted to do was protect her. She'd already gone through so much by the time I met her, too much for a thirteen year old. The fact that she could never see how strong she was is baffling. But I failed time and again at my goal.

First, there was the time she had a panic attack only three weeks after she moved in.

The guys had just left after a jam session. They told me to say goodnight to Eve for them. So, I went upstairs, and knocked lightly on her bedroom door saying, "Evelyn? You in there? The guys just left."

When she didn't respond I got worried. She was probably just asleep, but something felt off, so I decided to open the door and peek in to make sure she was alright. "Eve? Oh my God, are you okay?" She was hugging a pillow so tightly I thought it might burst, sobbing into in. I rushed over to her immediately.

She didn't acknowledge me. She might not even have noticed I was there.

"Hey hey hey, Eve? Eve, look at me." My urgent and worried plea did the trick and she pulled the pillow away from her face. Her eyes were bloodshot like she'd been in here crying for a while now while I was in another room enjoying myself. I felt sick with guilt.

She sat up weakly, avoiding my eyes.

"Come here, Evelyn," I said, wanting to pull her into a hug, not really knowing what else to do but desperately wanting to make her stop hurting.

"N-no, please... please don't touch me," she choked out.

I almost start to say, "What?" but when I realized what she said, I backed off. I was forced to watch, powerless, as she brought her knees up to her chest, burying her head in them. Her crying only intensified, her breathing scarily quick, and I was riddled with terror that it was all my fault.

Next there was the time she got beat up at school and I couldn't do a damn thing about it.

"What even happened in the first place?" I asked, brushing hair from her face, wondering how this nurse could be so calm when a girl just passed out in front of her. Evelyn had a bad scratch under her eye and a trail of dried blood coming from her nose.

"She was found in the bathroom by a student," the nurse explained, putting a cold cloth on her forehead and wiping away the rest of the blood. "We're not sure who did it; no one witnessed anything."

"When I figure out who did this..." I mumbled, not loud enough for her to hear me. Then, I saw Eve's eyes flutter open. I needed to stay calm for her sake. "Hey, Eve," I said gently.

"Help me sit up," she said hoarsely. The sound of her voice, so weak and defenceless, broke my heart.

When people at her school picked on her it was because of me.

I went into her room one day when she came home from school to see her laying on her bed. I walked over, holding my breath, and sat next to her. "Bad day?" I guessed.

She groaned into her pillow, nodding, "People suck." She turned over so I could see her face and I let out my breath in relief at the lack of tears.

I brushed the hair from her eyes. "What happened?" I asked.

"Don't even get me started," she sighed.

"We have time." I just wanted her to talk to me without being scared of what would happen. I longed to do my job and help her.

She sat up. "Well, they— um, everyone at school— knows about you now. I mean, they know you adopted me. And, well, I'd like to know what their freaking problem is with that!"

"What'd they say to you, Eve?" I asked carefully.

"The orphan girl. The one adopted by Gerald Way or whatever-the-fuck. Emo. That's all people will ever know me for, isn't it? My mom abandoned me and then I was adopted by you. Don't get me wrong, I love you and all, but... you know."

Hearing that hurt. Knowing that her past would follow her for the rest of her life, that she could never escape it no matter how much I tried to protect her from it. And that some people would never be able to see past it no matter what she did, or how much of a great person she could be.

"Bullshit, Eve," I said, hoping I didn't startle her with my bluntness. "You're so much more than that. You are a whole complex package, just like everyone else, so fuck them and their opinions. And between you and me, Emo is a pile of shit, okay? So laugh in their face if that's the word they choose to describe you. A smile is the best revenge."

She thought over what I said for a few seconds, then started slowly, "Okay, but- but what about everything else? People stare at me in the halls and they whisper things about me. I'm just a freak— that's what they say. I'm worthless. No one likes me."

It seemed like nothing I could say in that moment would convince her of how wrong those people— and even her own thoughts— were. She wasn't a freak, was far from worthless, and I loved her so much and so did the guys.

I just wanted her to be able to see it herself.

It only got worse as time went on. I remember, so clearly, when Ray shoved his phone into my hand at Frank's birthday party.

I saw him through the crowd, looking around with a panicked look on his face. I pushed my way towards him and shouted over the music, "What's wrong, man?"

"There you fucking are!" he shouted back.

I flinched at his sudden outburst. It was so unlike Ray. "What the—"

"It's Eve," he said and then his phone was in my hand.

I put it up to my ear, needing to shout so I could hear myself. "Evelyn, what happened!?"

"Em- Emerald... we were... her d-d—" She was stuttering so much I could barely tell what she was saying. Her teeth seemed to be chattering.

"Eve, I need you to calm down a bit. Can you do that for me?"

I heard her inhale deeply, but shakily, then choke out, "I- I need you to come— come and get me. Come and get me, p-please."

I felt my heart twist inside my chest and I jammed my hand into my pocket, fishing for my car keys. Ray, who was still standing next to me, a concerned look on his face as he listened to my side of the phone call as well as he could, looked at me questioningly. "Are you still at Emerald's house?" I asked Eve, ignoring Ray for now.

"N-no."

She was crying, panicking, begging to be picked up, and not where she was supposed to be. I was terrified. Panic rising in my throat, I got her to tell me where she was and as soon as I hung up, I shoved my way to the exit of the bar, Ray hot on my heels.

He insisted on driving. We were both sober, but I was probably too worked up to be safe on the road.

When we got to the bench on the corner of Oak Street, she was freezing, without a jacket, and crying harder than I'd ever seen her cry before. I could've gotten there so, so much sooner if I had checked my fucking phone. But I hadn't and she was hurt once again.

All these moments and more seemed to flash before my eyes as I still stood outside the house next to Lindsey. With everyone memory that crossed my mind, my tears fell faster and angrier. When I planned her a birthday party she told me she didn't want and had a bad panic attack, when she came out to me thinking I'd reject her, when her foster family came up on the news, when I didn't notice she was skipping school, smoking and drinking.

And all that time she was suffering, starving, destroying herself from the inside out, and I didn't fucking notice.

I kept telling her it would get better, back then and more recently. But she resorted to self harm to cope with everything, and still she felt like she couldn't come talk to me, so maybe she was right. Maybe it really wouldn't get better. Not with me, anyway. Maybe it was time I gave up and hope— if hope is worth anything— that she'll finally be okay with Laura Barry.

Before the pain of losing custody of my daughter, like the heaviest weight on my shoulders, forces me to the ground and I end up crying at Lindsey's feet, I let go of her hand. Ignoring everyone behind me when I run back into the house, I slam the door. I need to escape, but I have no where to run to. I decide to head upstairs.

Seeing Eve's room so empty adds salt to the wound. The band posters I pointed out the first time we ever met, Bowie, The Beatles, Queen, all taken down. Her bookshelf bare. Her closet door open shows the naked shelves and clothes hangers. It's like she was never here; it just looks like an out-of-use guest bedroom.