The nightmares were like clockwork. Most of the time they were about Gerard, sometimes about the Millers, and one night I had one about the whole band. But I didn't go a night without at least a couple, they were always about a car crash, and I was always the only survivor. I've been afraid to go to sleep, but my exhaustion betrays me every night and it inevitably happens.

I, myself, was also functioning like clockwork: Wake up in the morning, get taken to school, ditch— I never did go back to The Box, though; I preferred to isolate myself completely— rush back to school to get picked up, go home and hide away in my room and refuse to come out.

But on Friday morning after a particularly gruesome nightmare I don't even want to recount, I accept that I can't afford to miss any more school. So I go despite how much I wish to stay home, or go hang out around that bridge I found. I do my absolute best to ignore the looks and whispers I'm sure I'm getting from students. I look about as weak and tired as I feel.

I thought I was getting into shape, what with my daily sit-ups and relentless pacing, hidden away in my room. Some might call it 'excessive', but to me, it's necessary. I guess the near complete lack of food intake does take a toll, but one who's effects I find satisfying in a sick, almost twisted way.

I'm fucked up, is what it boils down to. Gerard once told me it was okay to be messed up, and I almost believed him that day. But now, I realize I'm nowhere near being okay. And I thought I felt broken weeks ago? No, I was cracked in a few places, at best, but this past week has ground me into a fine powder. Climbing upstairs to my room is a chore at this point as taking simple steps has become draining.

I can't say I really care, though.

I simply stared blankly when my math teacher informed me that he'd be calling home this afternoon to inform my "legal guardian" that I was failing his class with an impressively low 29%.

The same blank stare sat on my face as Gerard drove me home after school, unchanging when he announced that it's finally Friday and he thought we could watch Back To The Future tonight. An unenthusiastic "sounds good" sufficed on my part.

And now, the moment I've been dreading deep down as I hear his voice ring out from downstairs. I don't know if it's anger, confusion, or just plain disappointment that I'm hearing as he calls, "Evelyn? Get down here for a minute." Maybe all three. Probably all three.

I enter the kitchen and stand as innocently as possible. He doesn't notice the invisible weight I'm already carrying on my shoulders.

"So, I just got a call from your school," he begins, then pauses as though he thinks I have anything to add; like I might defend myself because I'm obviously not a hundred percent innocent in this situation and I obviously know exactly what he's talking about.

Still, I stay silent.

"Care to explain yourself?" he asks finally.

"What are you referring to?" I ask slowly, and he gives me a pointed look. "Okay fine. Well... yeah, I skipped school. I just don't care anymore."

"You— what? You ditched school? Evelyn, your math teacher just called to tell me you're failing his class."

Oh shit. That. I forgot about that.

"I- I—" Failing to get any words out, I lower my gaze to the floor. I really fucked up this time.

"Did you only skip today?"

"Um, yeah," I mumble.

"Well what the fuck did you do all day then, Eve? And don't even try lying to me." Too late. My confidence, or should I say faux indifference, is squashed at the obvious anger now seeping into his voice.

"I- I was just... hanging out." My voice is already beginning to wobble, but Gerard doesn't notice as he rolls his eyes. I know it's my fault. I'm being difficult. But I'd rather be curled up in bed listening to sad music than discussing this.

"Hanging out where exactly? Doing what? What if something happened to you, you coulda gotten lost or killed or— I thought you were smarter than this, Evelyn!" he yells.

"Obviously I'm not, okay? I'm fucking stupid, I know!"

"Bullshit. You're not stupid."

"Oh yeah? Tell me then, why am I pretty much failing all my other classes?"

He's taken aback by this new information. It's fair, though, because if he's seen my old school records (which I know he had during the adoption process) he'd know I was at the top of almost all my classes in the past. "Evelyn, you need to tell me these things! I can only help if you quit keeping it all to yourself!"

"Maybe I don't need your help."

"Maybe you're failing your classes because you didn't fucking show up."

"It's not like I was doing anything dangerous! I was literally just hanging out! Why would I want to be at school anyway? I have no friends, no one there likes me, my grades are shit!" I never usually yell, but it's the only way I can stop myself from crying in this moment. "I just needed to get away, okay? I just— I can't sleep at night. I can't fucking sleep when all I can think about is Rosa and how I wasn't there and how alone I am and—"

"You aren't alone, Eve! I keep telling you, you're not alone, don't you listen?"

"Look, I didn't tell you about all this because I didn't want you to get mad!"

"Why would I get mad? I just want to help you!"

"You're getting mad right now!"

"Only because you're acting like— like this!" He waves his hand at me when he says "this!"

"Oh, please, how exactly am I acting?" White hot anger surges through me. Of course, I know I'm being a bitch, but as far as I can comprehend, I'm not the only one being unreasonable here.

"You're being a typical fucking teenager, aren't you? Keeping things from me, thinking you're too good or too mature to ask for help when you obviously need it. I keep telling you, you can talk to me, but you obviously haven't been listening!"

"Maybe I'd be more inclined to tell you things if you weren't so damn busy all the time! Deciding where you wanna put me when you're on tour really takes up a lot of time, doesn't it?"

"You know—" Gerard shakes his head. "We were actually thinking of bringing you along, but maybe you don't deserve that!"

Oh. This is an unexpected turn of events that brings the anger pulsing through my veins to a grinding halt, regret taking its place. I have noticeably less fire in my voice when I finally say, "Fine then. Maybe I didn't even want to go in the first place."

"Evelyn, just go to your room," Gerard says. The low tone of his voice is almost as intimidating as the shouting was.

"Gladly." I turn on my heel and trudge up the stairs.

"I'm telling the guys not to bother coming!" he calls after me.

I slam my bedroom door in reply.

• • •

I stayed curled up in bed with a Harry Potter book in hand the rest of the evening, music playing in the background (Mazzy Star, anyone?). When Gerard dared to knock on my door to inform me that dinner was ready, I threw my shoe across the room forcefully and it hit the wall with a loud thud.

He got the hint and his footsteps retreated down the stairs and didn't return after that.

After who knows how many hours of reading to try and keep my mind off of things, I decide to shower. I haven't been keeping track of the time, but the moon shining through the crack in my curtains tells me it's late. Even so, I'm not tired— not what I call "sleep tired" anyway. I'm thankful for that because I'm afraid of going to sleep. Afraid of the nightmares.

I turn the water on hot enough that it should be burning my skin, but I can barely feel a thing. I'm numb.

It's sad, really. I thought I'd just gained a few valid reasons to live: Gerard, Mikey, Frank, Ray— but where will I be when they all grow tired of me or realize I'm too much trouble? And what about when my grades plummet further for my sudden lack of passion toward anything? I don't have a foster family to go crawling back to. Completely alone, a failure, a high school dropout, I see myself on the street, afraid. Eventually, I'll simply be dead.

What's the point?