EmptySoda

Pinterest boards:

Evangeline H. E. Swinswood: Raggedy: Eugene Ottenberg: Avery Sassen: Secondhand Smoke:

Art of my oc: (mainly on my VGen)

Secondhand Smoke:

CHP1 - My teeth are cement, Yours are marble. (3k words)

CHP2 - Ash Marks My Skin, Your Fist Bruises It. (3.2k words)

wp wip wip wip wip wip wip wip

not finished, pls dont kill me guys

He's kinda looks like hes jeff the jorkin it in this picture...

I promise its not what it looks like </3

Raggedy from Secondhand smoke..in proxy form!

Chapter 2:

~~3k words!

TW: self-harm mentions, bullying (physical abuse), smoking, mc attempting to throw up.

~~ 3.4k words

February 25th, 2006

It was nearing March now, the weather was still cold. I hated cold weather because it made me sleep in too long, and struggle to get out of bed. This morning in particular was cold, enough for me to wrap a sweater over my blouse, which was something I rarely even did.

Yet to avoid it stenching of cigarette smoke, I stripped it off by the time I left my front door.

I drew the cigarette to my lips, letting out a sound of amusement at Eugene's spluttering. He inhaled too fast, and too deep, causing him to cough the smoke out.

"aha- eugh- uhm, so, how long - hah- have you been -ugh- doing this?" He gave his last wheezes before swivelling his head to me, yet my eyes were locked on the tinkle of freckles that splayed across his reddened skin. His watery eyes clamped shut, shaking his head like it'd extract the smoke from his lungs faster.

"I don't know, a year or two?" I pondered, stubbing my own cigarette out on the gap of pavement between us. I hate how I trusted him so much. I hate how careless I was about telling him this stuff, knowing he could and would use it against me if provoked. My body turned, "uh- what about you?" I yelped with a dry mouth, making me clear my throat before speaking again.

"I only do it occasionally, I don't remember when I started.." He gave a small smile, eyeing the lighter that occasionally flickered to life. It rested, wedged between my slim fingers, my thumb pressing on the edge, before I shoved it back in my smoking tin.

"oh, like getting high?" I questioned, my mind drifting back to Avery and what she'd do if she found us like this. I couldn't bring myself to care, once again, despite the back of my mind dancing with dread. The fear exhilarated me slightly.

My heart curled on itself, pushing against my tight chest, making me lean closer to Eugene on a pure whim. My eyes bat more than usual, my lips pursed in the kind of way that made me seem like I wasn't occupied with how attractive he was to me. Yet I couldn't force myself any closer, I kind of just froze.

Eugene gave a laugh, which confused me, yet I realised it was at my previous query.

"Yeah, exactly." He drew, his voice and laughter echoing in the chasm of my stupid, delusional mind. I was always dumber around him. I seemed to have different personalities that changed depending on who i was with. It made me struggle with my own identity.

He drew his brows together, sprouts of his cow lick leading the motion. His small smile flaunted his gap-teeth. "So..." He prolonged the word, "do you smoke? I mean...do you get high?" The pause between the two inquires made me giggle, he glanced away at the own stupidity of his questions. Of course she smokes. I could nearly hear his thoughts.

"No, sorry. I've always wanted to try though." I said dryly, more focused on his lean body, his shoulders hunching, calloused palms resting on his thighs.

"Oh dang, we lost our group supplier- and well, I thought-" He coughed out, scratching the back of his head as I raised an eyebrow. His voice a tad more dry.

"You thought I'd supply you?" I slowly asked, confusion contorting my face, making me coax an amused chuckle from him. I was slightly offended by the conclusion I was that addicted to smoking substances that I'd supply him with drugs.

"Kind of" He hummed.

I shrugged, gleaming at him with admiration, did he really trust me this much? My chest swelled, I turned my body to him now, knees brushing against his jean-clad thigh. Perhaps I was taking it the wrong way.

"Well, I'll tell you if I find anyone who does." My shoulders rolled after Eugene rose from the dusty pavement, his back cracking and popping as he looked down at me, a strand of hair slicked with sweat obstructed his eye, making him clench them shut.

"Ahem, right...please do." He bowed his head, dropping his cigarette and crushing it, more careless than I had done, he seemed more eager to move on. His lips curved upwards, smirking at my dishevelled look, I'd stand up alongside him. I stood shyly on the road, him being higher up on the pavement, peering down at me before slowly nodding. His hands were dug into his pockets, one leaping out to swoop his loose hair from his face.

God, I'd endure an endless amount of beating from Avery and her group of friends just to spend a minute longer with him, here and alone.

My legs moved me back to trail inside of my home, Eugene waving me off to run a block over to his friends.

8:03am - Febuary 27th, 2006

I stood lonely in my room, the syringe penetrating the cap of my medicine bottle, I held the syringe to the bottle with one hand, extracting the liquid with my other. I hesitated in my actions, I frequently had episodes of dissociation that felt similar to seizures, if I didn't take the liquid.

The syringe met my lips, the cold plastic pressing against my skin as my thumb pushed the plunger slowly and deliberately so I could consume the disgusting, bitter medicine. It flooded my mouth in a thick, viscous wave, coating my tongue and the inside of my cheeks with its acrid flavour. I immediately pulled a face of disgust, my nose wrinkling and my eyes squeezing shut, utterly repelled by the vile taste that seemed to cling to every surface inside my mouth. I could feel my throat tightening in resistance, my body's natural reflex trying to reject the foul liquid.

I clutched the lining of the sink, gagging and trying to force it out of me now I regretted what I had done. I didn't want to take it anymore, and I kept telling myself that.

I hauled my bag over my shoulders despite it, and left my home, rushing to go to the school that I utmost despised.

My friends didn't care to turn to me, again, nodding or humming upon my arrival. They'd howl with laughter, giving me a confused look after I asked what was so funny. My fear of abandonment left me awkward, and desperate to laugh along with them.

"You stink of cigarettes, Evangeline, have you been smoking?" Sylvia joked, her lips dampened by her tongue running across them. I knew she was joking by the familiar glint in her eye, the way she elbowed Prima or Blake, the two girls whispering sharp and nasty words back.

Their strong distaste for smoking, drinking, homosexuality and 'whoreism' (which was basically their word for being too lustful) didn't compensate for the other sins them and this whole town committed. They lied, swore, bullied, and judged enough to send the whole population to hell. The hypocrisy of them, and every other religious figure (which was nearly everyone in the town) was stupidly stupendous.

"Come on, if I knew you'd dump my ass for smoking, why would I do it?" Raggedy hummed. Evangeline was much shyer, I could tell who was who inside my body. Raggedy was confident while Evangeline was quiet.

Besides, we could lie if we wanted to (we meaning both Evangeline and Raggedy). There would be no consequence. I didn't believe in God, the bible or sinning. I had my slice of morality, which told me to respect their stupid take on what sins to defy and what ones to follow. And I'd shut up about it.

Prima let out a hum, nudging Blake who simply giggled, her shoulders shaking with her. I didn't even know what they found funny. I currently wanted to gauge my eyes out from the knowledge my day would inevitably be horrible. I just hope I could drift through it like I usually did.

Each lesson made me feel worse, more weak and tired than the last. My only reward would be to buy a freezing drink to guzzle down with the freezing weather. My arms pricked with goosebumps after I forgot to haul my sweater to school, forgetting it in my house.

~3:36pm

I nearly turned back when I saw Avery rest against the shop's window, her flushed face pink from anger. Her beady eyes judging me, creeping closer, "Hey, Evangeline. Kinda sketchy how you're slinking around with my man."

My body tried retracting, tried to do anything to avoid this confrontation. I don't even know how she fucking found out, did Eugene tell her? Did she see us herself? Did someone else tell her about us?

"What did I tell you, slut-bag? Can't fucking keep your legs closed?" Her arms jerked towards me, grabbing the collar of my shirt and gritting her teeth. I hadn't made a move on, 'her man' and never really intended to...until he moved on me, at least.

I saw Eugene linger behind her, his attention laid onto Avery.

"Fuck- I'm sorry?" I said, unsure if I was even being genuine, "He came to ME." Raggedy quipped, her hands clawing at her tightening grip which only seemed to fuel her anger.

I pushed against her lightly, trying to shove her off without making her attack me more. My eyes glanced over to Eugene, his stance radiating his sudden lack of sympathy for me. What had changed?

"My boyfriend wouldn't come to your skank ass unless he needed something" Avery laughed in my face, speckles of spit suds spraying on me, making me pull a face of disgust.

I was blushing like hell, and had been ever since she locked eyes with me. Part of me was thankful she hadn't commented on it, I knew it wasn't intentional.

"Yes- he...he did!" I spluttered, my eyes widening, "he wanted me to supply him with...drugs." I cried out, my hands catching loosely onto Avery's wrists. My stomach churned, I backed to the wall she had me pressed against, I glanced around to stop my cheeks from burning more. "Tell her, Eugene!" I snapped

"Holy fuck, trying to make a move on everyone, ay? Don't fucking touch me like that," She barked out, squinting. "And besides, my boyfriend doesn't smoke. He's a devout Christian you psycho! Stop making stuff up!"

I felt my brain go fuzzy, and for a second, disassociate.

"Now, slut, what did I tell you last time this happened?"

I wasn't even listening to her intimidating words, I was still processing the freight train that just hit me. My mind was reeling, struggling to catch up with what had just happened. The shock of it all left me numb and disoriented. He was standing there, right there in front of me, not bothering to defend me. Not saying a single word in my defence. His hesitance to interfere, his refusal to step in and say something annoyed me. My shaking body slammed against Avery, who just stood there for a second, thinking over what just happened. I could see the confusion flickering across Avery's face, the wheels turning as the pair tried to make sense of the situation unfolding before us.

That seemed to be it: Avery lowered her head, yelling a plethora of words at me before grabbing my head and slamming it against the wall behind me. My first concern was whether or not I was about to have a seizure, the blinding lights in my vision made me unable to see temporarily, accepting the slicing pain I felt against my head. The depth of indentation her nails made caused blood to trickle down to my shaking chin. Her grasp on me made me jolt, coming back to reality. I panted, eventually managing to push her away, my gaze dropping to Eugene, who laughed with his friends, slapping the chest of the man closest to him. My legs trembled further, repetitively hurling my limp body against the brick wall.

The laughter coming from Eugene, the mocking speech flying from the mouths of his friends. Avery yelling words that were too loud for my sensitive ears, her voice shrill and piercing, each syllable like a needle driving into my skull. Her hands digging into my side, her nails biting through the fabric of my shirt, pushing me more and more to the wall.

Raggedy slammed her hands against Avery, her arms pushing into Avery's bony ribcage, her body pressing into Avery's hips now that she was beneath Raggedy. Raggedy's hands rose high above her head, then came pounding down onto Avery's face with wild, uncontrolled fury, Raggedy's nails scratching across Avery's skin hard enough for little sprouts of red to rise to the surface.

My anger died down as I, Evangeline, punched Avery's eye sloppily, my fist connecting at an awkward angle, doing too many things at once to even effectively hurt her. My movements were frantic and uncoordinated, driven more by rage than any real intention to cause damage.

Suddenly, I was hoisted off her by one of Eugene's friends, a tall, lanky guy. He pulled me up, his hand yanking brutally at my hair, the sharp pain shooting across my scalp. He dragged me backward and slammed me against the wall, holding me there with his grip still tangled in my hair, my feet barely touching the ground now that I was off of her.

"I fucking told you I'd clobber you, didn't I? Watch me, watch me fry her ass, Eugene!" She'd call behind her. Sections of her skin were irritated, her mascara smudged on one eye, she wiped at it frantically, her ego shaking with her body.

Her hand held on my neck, clasping it tight enough that my airways were cut off. "Eugene, come here- give me your flip knife!" she yelled, shoving me further against the wall.

Eugene hesitated like he always did when things stopped being jokes, his eyes flicking between us and Avery like he was trying to disappear from the moment. He'd then slowly obey, his lean frame sliding over to Avery, before quietly murmuring, “Avery, come on… this is gonna mess things up for me again. And- d'youreally wanna get in trouble with your mom again?" His knife slipped into the eager hand of Avery, who snatched it right up. He didn't even look at me.

I felt Avery's cool blade seep into my veiny wrists, picking the limp limb up, "You like cutting yourself anyway, right? I could do it for you." Avery hummed.

I heard the laughs of Eugene and his friends echoing through the street, shocked at her words but finding amusement never the less. "I'm gonna make sure that every time you even look his way, you'll remember what I did to you, and you won't flirt with another woman's man!" Her voice was rising now, getting louder and more shrill with each word.

Her flip-blade dug into my cheek, piercing my chin, to cheek, deep enough for blood to cluster and rise up instantly. The surrounding skin caved in, leading into a deep gash. I gasped, knowing it was going to scar from how much pain i felt. My head pounded, my mind was drawn to the sound of Avery's laughter, her yelling and squealing. The pain was taken away for a second: I was locked onto the obnoxious noises coming from Avery. Hot blood trickled down my face, it stained the collar of my blouse, the light-tone fabric flushing a deep red. The damp scarlet material sticking to my skin now, making my neck wet with the joint droplets running down my collarbone.

I couldn't hear Avery anymore, her mouth moved and I could see her slide around in my view, shifting from side to side as she tried to get my attention. The surrounding people were blurring into a pixelated frame. I couldn't see anything but Avery. I couldn't hear anyone at all, not a single word, not a single footstep. My imagination was creating a ringing sound whenever I pin-pointed on someone moving their lips, gesturing wildly with their hands, or stomping on the pavement. Eugene rung the loudest, his squinting eyes that seemed to laugh at me, lusting over his girlfriend who was inflicting her common practice on me.

My face was snapped sideways now, the force of the blow sending a sharp, stinging pain ripple across my cheekbone. Her fist collided against my jaw with brutal precision, the impact powerful enough to swizzle my entire body and nearly knock me off balance. I could taste copper on my tongue as my teeth rattled from the strike. The repetitive action of her relentless hits brought me crashing back to reality, my hands instinctively ran up to grip her wrists again. Tighter this time, desperately trying to stop the assault. My fingers eventually ran up, wrapping around her arms in an attempt to hold her back. It was in that moment, as I struggled to defend myself, that Eugene's voice cut through the loudness, calling out to her.

"Damn- Avery! Come on, now-" He yelped, his voice cracking with desperation as he clasped her shoulder tightly, fingers digging in just enough to make her turn to him. "come on, if my dad hears about this, he'll beat my ass for going against the Decalogue, you know how he is Avery. You know exactly what he's like when it comes to this stuff." His eyes were wide, displaying the innocence I still love. "I'm already on thin ice with him after what happened last month."

She glanced back over her shoulder, eyes narrowing with irritation. "Fuck- fine." She wiped the switchblade end onto my blouse, the redness further infecting my clothes, spreading like a dark stain across the fabric. The metallic smell of blood hung heavy in the air. "Come on then."

I hadn't stopped blushing even after all this time, my legs shaking from anxiety.

She let go of me abruptly, hands unclasping from my top half where they'd been gripping me tight enough to leave crinkles. She'd shudder in disgust at my blood that ran down her arms in thin rivulets, dripping from her elbows onto the ground below. Without her support holding me upright, my body collapsed, and my ass hit the concrete hard, the impact jarring through my spine. My head was pounding relentlessly from the previous contact with the wall, each throb sending waves of nausea through me. Stars danced at the edges of my vision as I struggled to stay conscious.

...

The group left after some middle-aged woman began rushing over to me, my shaking, bloodied hand falling into hers. She tutted and stroked at my frizzy hair, causing me to blink slowly, similarly to how a frog would. I didn't even know what happened, whether I blacked out from a seizure, my injuries, my anxiety or dissociation. My back ached, and I seemed to scoot my head around the chunky, soft frame of this woman. She was asking me questions which I didn't reply to: I was more focused on where the gangle of bullies were, and if they left.

The lack of cars in the gas station told me they dipped after Eugene pleaded with them all, for whatever reason that I can't remember. I held back the vomit in my throat, pushing the woman away and instantly apologizing.

Chapter 1:

My teeth are cement, yours are marble.

TW: vomiting, bullying, medical trauma (epilepsy, medication), smoking

~~3k words!

February 25th, 2006

It happened a couple years back, in 2006, when I was 16. Well, obviously, I am currently not 16. Nor is it currently 2006.

I think the medication made me worse. Well… I can’t know for sure, considering I started taking it when I was six. Sometimes I intentionally forget it for weeks at a time. In those periods, I feel better in some ways that outweigh the downsides.

Downsides being the fact my mood stability gets worse, and that’s usually when Raggedy feels more dominant. She doesn't appear on command, and she’s not something I can switch on or off. It's more like a shift in me that becomes more frequent when I’m unstable. I start becoming more impulsive, doing and saying things I normally wouldn’t. It’s like a tug of war between feeling calmer mentally and losing control over the darker, heavier parts of my mind I associate with her.

I don’t think Raggedy is something I “become” in a simple way. It’s more like a breakdown in my ability to control: when I can’t hold everything together, my thoughts and reactions stop being filtered properly, and everything feels immediate instead of considered. I wasn’t sure what caused Raggedy to even come to be. At first I suspected her origins rooting from my epilepsy, which was quickly rebutted by brief research.

Other than that, I haven’t exactly studied my condition properly. What I do know is that I am taking Keppra due to my epilepsy. Epilepsy caused by having focal cortical dysplasia (FCD, Type IIId, from a kind of scar-like abnormality on the right side of my brain). My doctors said it can affect the networks involved in control and decision-making, especially with the frontal lobe involved in regulating behaviour. I don’t fully understand, however.

These past days, I've been religiously taking it. Though, doing so, makes me feel like I'm pinning myself up for self-sabotage. I don't fear seizures while off meds because I've only ever had a handful, (documented, at least) which primarily happened at six to ten years old. Which was five to six years ago now, but that might just be luck. The Keppra is horrible: it makes me foggy, makes everything feel muted, but when I stop taking it, the world gets too deafening, and Raggedy gets louder with it. I know that's the problem. I know that's not the medicine's fault. But I take it anyway, and I hate it: I know it makes me mentally worse, I've tried telling the old bitch; she just doesn't ever listen. I can't even tell my father, the decrepit man runs off to the military instead of caring for his family. My mother is so keen in blaming it on me, telling me I was the reason his bags are packed and he's deployed 11/12 months of the year.

I knew the woman was lying to me, as he was adhered on being a man of the marines even before he met my mother. And now I have to suffer the consequences of the social standard to eventually settle down (even when you're not happy with your partner) before thirty. Maybe if they went their separate ways and just accepted their differences, I wouldn't have been born. Or perhaps it was inevitable. My mother would've been fertilised, and produced me either way. I'm so resentful to that belief, because it leads to a depressing ideology: even if they did never meet, even if it was a different woman, or man, that I'd inevitably be born. That I'd have my upper half be choked out by a trash can every other day, apparently. That I'd be constantly met with harassment and repetitive bullying.

"Is she gonna' cry?" One girl swirled her words, trying to shoot them out around the wad of gum that was squelching between her teeth. I remember the sound before anything else. This routine never was uncharted to me, my abusers were always here, and seemed to blur into the same person constantly.

"God, maybe you shouldn't be such a slut next time, Ev, aha?" Another kicked her pointed shoe into my fleshy thigh, my body heaved and jolted. I felt my mouth brush against the dampened lining of the bin, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. Every time my hands reached to the edge of this degrading hat, my wrists would be pelted by the knees, feet and cigarette ends of these girls. My legs were shaking, matched with my trembling lip that caught the tears running down my hot cheeks. I was accustomed to feeling angry. All. the. time. But crying from anger, or even sadness in public was something I despised. A true state of vulnerability, was what this was. The group of girls weren't exactly my personal bullies, but had degraded me for a plethora of reasons multiple times before.

Their shoes collided into me repetitively now, despite my body not even attempting to resist, the abuse worsened. I'd yell out, my voice hitching as I gagged at the smell of this trash can's stench wafting into my nose. My words were wet with the sound of my sobbing. No matter how much I tried to shut up, simply attempting to close my gaping mouth wasn't as effective as my usual method of clamping my jaw with my hands. Their words had blurred around me, like wafts of smoke. My ears pin-pointed onto the gum that was being grinded between the teeth of one girl. I was partially crying from anger at how loud it seemed to my sensitive ears. It helped deter the pain I was feeling.

Raggedy wouldn't cry, Raggedy wouldn't be this much of a wuss. I tried shutting myself up for her sake.

My back curled in on itself, the way my body slumped onto the cold tiles made the trashcan slip from my head partially. Yet, the yelping and yipping of one of the girls brought me back: my ears always perked up to the loudest noise.

I knew the lecture would be cut short as they quieted down for a second. I myself temporarily stopped sobbing, listening in. The faint and far sound of the janitors jangling keys brought the group back to life.

"Shit! We needa' leave, HEY! if you tell anyone about this, I'll make sure your jaw is clobbered you fucking whore! Maybe then you can't move up to my boyfriend, huh?" She gritted while I slowly sat up, not before earning one last boot. To the face...or at least where my face would've been if I hadn't been wearing this trash can.

As the last girl left, I lifted the can off my head, my lips spluttered enough for spit to run down them, and my trembling legs moved so I could lock the bathroom door to avoid further embarrassment.

My back slid down the counters of the stained sinks, my hair curling into the crevasse of the drain after being caught. I turned my head backwards, towards the mirror. My eyes hesitantly forced themselves onto my face and body despite my partial disagreement to doing so. My skin was red and irritated in most places, especially on my thighs and arms. I pinched myself a couple times to stop crying, before inevitably meeting my reflection again. God, I wanted to smoke so bad.

My eyes would dart everywhere - anywhere - but at my bag. Until I was distracted by my sight drifting to a mystery liquid leaking from the trashcan, presumably bin water, and my own vomit.

The thought, and knowledge, it was mixed with my hair and skin made me gag, my head bowed as I drooled into the sink before coughing my lungs up, puke rising and gurgling from my sore throat. My chest heaved, my mind turmoiling as my worst fear came to light. I helplessly muttered demands for help, and apologises to God himself, before rising up, panting until my heart ached. I clamped a hand to my forehead, clawing until my face burned with scratches.

A gargled cry let out from my throat, my eyes were dry, my throat was unusually wet. The dampness felt irritable, a stark contrast to the usual scratchiness I felt. My shaking fingers unzipped my bag that I was avoiding. It had been waterboarded in the running sinks, but never the less my fingers were already digging around for the familiar feel of a tin. It previously harboured strawberry peppermints I consumed irrationally. Yet, the piece of junk now held a raisin-box filled with clusters of tobacco, rolling paper, filters and a quarter-filled lighter. I pre-rolled about two, though the rolling technique ensured the filter-end was tight, the tobacco end spilt some pieces.

Unsteadily, I held the lighter to my lips that clamped the filter-end of the cigarette, only to light the opposing end. My mouth sucked on the filter-end, inhaling the smoke into my lungs. Nearly instantly, my throat went dry. Only a sigh of relief let out from my chest, a stark contrast to the vomit, begging and crying that previously soaked my throat. The reflection in the mirror blurred, and danced around, moving with my watery eyes that leaked.

Eventually, my fingers were warm, and sparks flew onto my wrists. An indication that the cigarette was begging to be put out. I'd press the lit stump against the wall, the blackened paper curled into itself and the flame died out, fluttering into the water. The cigarette didn't let out the hiss I had expected, so instead I coughed, blowing the last remains of the smoke from my lungs and letting out a hiss myself.

Unsure of what to do, I stepped over to the small, obscured window. A gasp of relief blew from my mouth, making me yip quietly as rain pelted the window. I could blame the rain for my soaked-with-trash-water hair.

I unzipped my sopping bag, grasping the zip-up that was bunched at the bottom, putting it on my quavering body that still trembled with adrenaline from five minutes ago - the zip wedged just above my chest, a loose strand of my curly hair (now frizzy, and damp) catching in it. I yanked the strand free, some pieces clinging to the zip which I simply removed. My pale, slender fingers scooped the remains of dangling hair atop my head into the back of the hood, sniffing my sooty fingers from the cigarette. I hesitated to lick and suck them this time, due to the contact with my disgusting hair.

My feet caught up to the door, unclasping the lock that sealed myself from the world. I was thankful for the rain, binding an excuse to not attend P E club. I wasn't exactly athletic but it gave me something to do, that wasn't sleeping after school all the time.

My legs carried me home, the rain pattering against my lips, and catching on the mascara that was already dripping down my face. The stubborn marks washing away in the weather. My bag lurched, each step jolted my metal bottle against my back, creating a painful, yet comfortable, rhythm against my weak body. My feet quickened upon reaching a neighbourhood I recognised. Once fast pace turned to a slow jog, eventually my door creaked open against the key I dug from my front-pocket. My breath hitched as my shoes collided with the floor, the boards beneath my feet creaking with each step I took.

My mother twisted her body towards me, eyes piercing into my head, squinting through the puffs of smoke in the air, rubbing at her reddened eyes, irritated from the carbon.

"You're home" She noted, nodding, as though it was unexpected -which it was, as I would normally be at an after school club. Her voice cracked, flaky and harsh.

"…Yes," I said, my eyes glancing at the kitchen counter's décor plant that seemed to have more personality than my dry mother. Neither of us exchanged another word, I just scuffed my muddy shoes to the wooden stairs, unweaving my laces enough to pull my tightened shoes off. My naked feet kicking them against the peeling wallpaper before grasping the stair handle, slipping up the stairs to the bathroom. My breath stunk obnoxiously, I could taste it. The small cabinet above my mirror held the antidote: a litre of mouthwash I swigged whenever I smoked.February 26th, 2006

My shoes routinely scuffed the sidewalk, despite waking up nearly two hours ago, I still felt undead. The eye bags were particularly dark today. A result of the fact that my days weren't spent reasonably now. The hold of sleep caving its fingers into my collarbones, seducing me to sleep all day. It strives to make me uncomfortable. I usually used to be unable to rest most of the time. Yet over this past month, all I could do is sleep.

It's the medicine, I am telling you.

My friends never called yesterday after I was swirled up by the 'bullies' they acknowledged, but never bat an eye to. My stomach felt emptier than usual, I never eat breakfast before school but due to my lack of appetite yesterday, the hunger was worse.

The strands of newly washed curls brushed against my nose, tickling me enough for my attention to be averted. My bag was tumble-dried after yesterday, and wafts of perfume attacked my nostrils due to the persisting stench in the morning it held. I had begged my mother to have a break, a day off for the sake of it, yet she denied my need to rest.

"Hey! Evangeline, why didn't you come to PE club yesterday?" Eugene chirped from beside me. Eugene. He hounded me for my attention this week, catching the sight of his girlfriend who hated me. He was the reason I got dunked with a trashcan. His questioning made me perk up, realizing my excuse wouldn't hold due to the fact they held it in the sports hall if it was raining.

Eugene was handsome, and I undeniably had a crush on him. The crush came and went, similar to the cycles of the moon: I went from hating the boy to being obsessed with him. My hatred originated from his tenancy to simply watch from the sidelines as Avery, his girlfriend, beat my ass for talking to him. Though, there wasn't much he could do, as his girlfriend and her male friends would beat his ass twice as hard if he retaliated. I hope that was why he never defended me, because if there was any other reason, it lead to him simply just not liking me enough.

"Fuck off Eugene, tell your girlfriend she's a bitch while you're at it." I quipped, quickening my pace, which resulted in Eugene confusedly doing the same. There Raggedy was. Peeking through my words.

"Hm? What? What- why are so pissy?" He pursued, tilting his head, a stray strand resting against his forehead, my stomach turned inwards, now aching with a different hunger. Eugene, the only one who still looked at me like I mattered, even if just for a moment. My pace slowed, my heart churned instantly.

"Your girlfriend and her dogs…ugh…they just-" I flushed red, trying to word my sentence in a way that didn't label me as a loser for getting degraded like that. I definitely was a loser, however. Everyone saw it, Eugene did, my friends did, my parents did, my bullies did.

"They found me, and 'punished' me for talking to you" I hesitantly huffed, my eyes drawing to him and his features. His sharp jaw, his button nose, his freckles, his thick furrowed brows that arched with sympathy, his messy hair, his brown eyes. My body yearned.

"Oh- shoot, my girlfriend is like that, what'd they do?" He mindlessly said, and I didn't reply, just averted my gaze. He didn't seem as concerned as his face displayed.

"Uhm, they just…kicked and hit me" I said, in fear that he'd snitch on me. My face turned to his after a beat, searching his eyes.

"Have you uh- been smoking? Not in a rude way, It smells nice." He nodded, not exactly caring about the physical abuse I just confessed to. Yet, the panic rerouted, my chest pounding before he chuckled, "Its fine, I smoke too"

"Hm? oh, yeah. Sorry." I blinked, apologising despite him comforting me. No wonder why his girlfriend, Avery, was attacking me! I was a slut for wanting to steal another woman's boyfriend, and getting so flustered at these trivial actions.

"Oh, huh, maybe you can smoke after school with me? I've never felt safe doing it at home." He dryly laughed, to which I leaped.

The rest of the walk was spent with my red-face making conversation, scooping my hair continuously behind and in front of my ear to cover my flushed cheeks. The school loomed in front of us, I spared him a glance before he sauntered off to his rowdy group of friends and me to my quiet ones. I sat next to them on a hook of concrete that bordered around a small green area. They'd nod, and hum in acknowledgement before returning to their conversation.

The group was severely religious, the whole school was, in fact. I struggled to reciprocate these beliefs. Their loyalty to (some) commandments of the Bible created their hated for smoking and drinking in the town. This made me extremely paranoid about being caught.

At times, the lack of attention they gave made me concerned on whether or not they found out about my smoking habit. My reassurance was that they'd probably be outwardly pissed, and wouldn't go to petty solutions of ignoring me. Which, now thinking of it, getting beaten by every student and their ancestors didn't seem as appealing as being ignored.

My lack of concern for getting caught scared me, the impulsivity I experienced didn't feel normal. Yet, my day continued without a speck of stress on whether my crush would snitch about my little addiction.

Chapter 3:

Chap3) My Mask Of Silk

TW WARNINGS: Self Harm mentions, Physical violence (use of knife)

1AM - February 28th 2006:

I had been sat cross-legged on my bed for the past hour, a strip of silk from my father wrapped around my head tight enough to constrict my breathing. My mouth had dampened a hole through the fabric with uneven breaths and spit, yet I didn't care.

Every so often, my fingers would hook beneath the cloth and tug it away so I could gasp in lungfuls of air. After a while, though, I grew bored of the routine.

The knot behind my head loosened slightly under my fingers. The fabric shifted, sagging more loosely across my face. Breathing came easier, and I stopped adjusting it.

The silk smelt faintly of cigarette smoke and old cologne.

It reminded me of my father.

He used to wrap it around my head like this before dragging me through the forests behind our old house, laughing whenever I stumbled into branches I couldn't see. He called me Raggedy. I never knew if he meant it as a joke or something else, but the name stayed.

The fabric had worn itself into two uneven holes where my eyes were. They were large enough to see through, but small enough that I couldn't properly make out my own face in the mirror.

I didn't look for long.

My fingers drifted instead to my cheek.

The blood had only just begun to clot, sticky trails still running down my neck, collarbone, and jaw from the gash. I held a damp rag against it, the cold water making me shudder as I scrubbed it clean.

My head ached in a way that felt familiar and nearly constant.

I sat up, posture slumped and crooked. My hands moved slowly, tracing the uneven bumps and scars along my thighs before wandering toward the window latch.

I cracked it open. I needed the distraction. Cold air spilled in, raising goosebumps across my skin. I pulled the blanket tighter around myself. Eventually, my fingers drifted back to my body, this time landing on my face.

The blood from the Avery-inflicted wound had only just begun to clot, sticky trails still running down my neck, collarbone, and cheeks from the gash. Earlier, I had pressed a damp rag against it, shuddering at the memory of cold water against raw skin as I scrubbed it clean.

Now a thick white gauze pad covered it, pressed beneath the silk still tied around my head. The silk always made things feel better.

When things got bad, after my mother, or Avery, or anyone else, I would sit like this and wait for my loud mind too settle. And when it did, I wasn't exactly me anymore. The silk tied around my head made me feel more certain, more sharp. Less afraid of the space other people took up, less insecure of the space I took up. I didn't like thinking about it for too long. If I did, I feared that it would stop making me feel so in control.

This body didn't feel like mine anymore, it felt like Raggedy conquered it, climbed into the drivers seat for a while, letting my usual self rest. The memories of me playing hunter turning real, like Raggedy really was out to hunt. Preying on the people who tormented me.

I was being silly.

And suddenly, the spiking pain in my cheek quietened down, my mind stopped barking orders, spewing insecure thoughts or hesitant actions. The pain felt like it belonged to Evangeline, not Raggedy.

Once unable to process much from the pain, my body (or, Raggedy's body at this moment) thrived from it. My hand twitched to press into the gauze, feeling around my squirming face to check if I still stung there, I did. It made me squeak slightly, yet my fingers dug further.

I had the embarrassing, cringing urge to cauterize it. The unusual lack of pain Raggedy felt seemed strange. Turning my wound inflicted by Avery, into one I myself worsened, one I was responsible for instead of her. It made me weak, how Evangeline let herself get beaten, how I could've prevented it. No matter how much my hand, palm or finger jerked and squished the bloodied gauze, squeezing into my cut, I didn't feel the same pain i felt not only five minutes ago.

Evangeline was a wuss to pain. Complaining too much, doing too little. It didn't even have to be pain that this mindset took flight in. It was annoyingly everything.

My fingers edged towards a loosened corner of the gauze, my nails picking at it and lifting it up, slowly--

A knock pounded at my door.

I sucked the running drool back into my hungry mouth, grumbling out the permission to enter, which wasn't even spoken before the door jolted open.

Judith - or, mother, sauntered drunkenly into my room, her hips swaying before her eyes did that usual squint - irking me. I felt the corner of my eye uncontrollably twitch before I blinked dully at her.

Judith simply grinned, howling out a snarky laugh , "What's that on your face?" She chuckled. I didn't blush, a rare occurrence in a degrading moment such as this one.

"It's John's" I murmured, my mother giggling once again, more judgmental this time rather than amusing.

"John- your father John?" I nodded, "Since when did you call your father by his first name?"

"Since I realized that's his name. He's not very fatherly, is he?" I grunted, resisting the urge to rise from my bed, being held back my the scars on my legs. Evangeline wouldn't have got this far. Too much disrespect for the scared girl. She probably wouldn't have even thought this way.

My mother snapped, jutting a finger out to me, "You do not disrespect your father like that, you ungrateful-" she began, eventually looking at the criticizing grin on my face which made something in her cool down. "Just- don't talk about your father like that..." She snapped, giving me one last once over, "and close your goddamn window..." she shook her head, walking backwards to the door, grabbing the handle and slamming it closed.

My hands flickered back to my wound, pressing into it again, the silk catching in my fingers. I kept fidgeting with the gauze until I fell asleep, inhaling the scent of the silk smothering my face,

(October 15th, 2001)

--"“Raggedy! Run, Raggedy! He’s after you!” my father teased.

He chased me through the trees, arms lifted high above his head to seem taller than he was. In one hand he clutched a pale white toy. Always just called him.

My legs ran and ran, branches whipping past in blurred streaks. I never really got away for long. Whenever he caught me, he’d scoop me up laughing, like it was part of the game.

Then I’d be the one holding him (or at least onto his leg) running again.

This time, he caught me quickly. My father lifted me into the air, high enough that I could see his face clearly, scarred, flushed, smiling like he’d been waiting all his deployment for this moment.

“Come on,” he said, breathless with laughter. “You’ve got the sickness, I caught you. Now you chase me, aye?” He beamed down at me.

And I did, my legs picking their pace up as we scampered further into the woods.

10:13AM - February 28th 2006:

Whenever I was caught, he'd say I had the sickness.

He never explained it properly. It was just part of the game, something that made us turn on each other, like we'd both been reset. Hunters became prey. Prey became hunters. And afterwards, it was always forgotten, like it had never belonged to us in the first place. He'd say it was the amnesia.

I think I have it now.

My chest won't slow down. Air keeps slipping in too fast, too shallow, like my lungs can't decide how to work properly. My legs feel unsteady beneath me. I'm standing at the front of the class. Everything feels slightly out of reach, like I'm watching myself from a little too far away to step back in properly. When I sit down, I know I'll forget most of this.

My cheeks burn, flushed a dark red. The gauze on my face has been downsized to a clean row of butterfly bandages. Multiple students harassed me about it, and my own mother interrogated me that morning. She hadn't noticed the night before because of the silk. I got mysterious glares from students all day. The irritated wound received more attention in a single day than I had throughout all my years here.

My head swirls while my stomach anxiously churns. I'm shaking like a leaf and blushing like a strawberry, my words sputtering out before my teacher. Everyone else blurs around her. I read the poem from the tab at the front of my brain, my focus on getting the words correct not doing much to stop my redness.

I know Raggedy wouldn't act like this if she were stood here instead of me.

Eugene, Prima, and Sylvia went before me. Avery opted out, defying Miss Austin's command, which earned her a week's detention and a failure for the assessment.

Eugene spoke loud, laughing slightly at the funny faces his friends were pulling, which swept him off balance with his words. I tried to be mad at him after yesterday- I really did, but I couldn't. His effortless nature, passing with flying colours. I could tell he scored high by the way Miss Austin whispered her approval, smiling and nodding.

Prima was quiet, giving a glare to Blake as she carelessly read from the sheet. It scored her lower marks, but she didn't seem affected by the teacher's pre-warnings. She obviously hadn't revised and just wanted to get it over with, especially by the way she furrowed her brows in fake-interest at Miss Austin's criticism.

Sylvia spoke loudly with confidence. She acted out her slide of the poem perfectly, moving her body, gesturing her hands as her face contorted into expressions not even I had seen from her before. She sat down in front of me after she finished, her head held high as she flashed me her score, making my eyes widen.

And lastly, there was me. Blushing like a fool, rushing my words, the only good thing being my pronunciation. I didn't care about acting or reaching the poet's message across. I just wanted to sit in my damn seat and get a good-enough score.

After I finished, the teacher gave me a sympathetic look and a guilty movement of her clenched lips. I simply looked at the paper, not even caring about my score, and sat down at my seat.

Sylvia smugly turned to me, obnoxiously yapping, "You turned so red!" while staring at my score, her mouth agape in disappointment. The gap between our numbers was large. Hers obviously higher.

I sighed, getting nudged by the person sitting next to me asking what time it was. I simply glanced at the clock. Lunch was soon.

And so was the end of the day. My lesson passed quickly, calmer after my embarrassing assessment. I stuffed my face with food to avoid explaining to the multiple people approaching my lunch table about the origins of my scarred face. I got complimented by girls who didn't even know I existed, their words only spoken in an attempt to butter me up so I could reveal the secret.

"Evangeline- how'd you get that cut on your face? Seems nasty. Alex from history told me you got swiped by your psycho mom, but then Blake told me Avery kicked your ass after you hit her for no reason." My body turned to Blake, she sheepishly smiled before I turned to this random girl standing in front of me. I didn't care about the jab at my mother, surprisingly.

I grit my teeth, my cheeks reddening. "Me and Avery got in a fight."

She grinned, eager for the juicy story.

But I didn't smile back. Part of that little nook of myself - Raggedy -wanted to correct Evangeline. Wanted to say Avery threw the knife, wanted to say Eugene lied to me so I'd be caught vulnerable, wanted to say a lot of things. That exact part, the one that was getting louder, only thought: She's wondering if you won. If you're stronger now. That part didn't care about being beaten further. It almost wanted it, to prove her strength.

I cringed at my own thoughts, embarrassed at this sudden act of unbeatable immunity, shaking it off.

Well, now I just hoped Avery wouldn't attack me further for marking her up (giving her a bruise under her eye) during the week where our speaking assessments happened. Explaining things at the front of the class, in front of everyone. I wouldn't have come this week if only my teachers simply let the 'sick kids' not do it rather than making at a later date.

I turned to Sylvia who seemed to bug me for my attention, I caught her just in time for her to start ranting on about the boy she was seeing.

"Yeah- Can you believe it? Says he likes me but doesn't even text me-"

"He doesn't text you?" Prima gaped.

My mind drifted elsewhere as I saw Eugene dismiss himself from the table, walking towards the hallways round about his locker. I excused myself from the conversation before stumbling out my chair, earning a laugh from the group of friends I was sat with before I ran to the same hallway.

"Eugene!" I spluttered, quieting in case anyone was around. Specifically Avery.

"Hey Evangeline, whats up?" He perked, jolly and talkative as though he hadn't witnessed my ass get beaten by his girlfriend.

"The fuck you mean 'whats up?'. Are you really gonna brush past what happened yesterday?"

Eugene sighed, "Look, I told you my girlfriend is weird like that-"

"Yeah! She is weird! Beating up people when I haven't even- ugh. I was only talking to you. Platonically." I huffed, side-glancing him and scuffling my shoes into the edge of my locker as a way to fill the silence.

He uncomfortably rolled his shoulders, giving me a look that said 'I'm not gonna add my input in fear of your reaction'

I carried on, as he didn't say much else.

"Fuck- I just wanna be your friend without having to face Avery."

Eugene didn't agree with what I said. In fact, he didn't speak at all. It made me mad how he didn't seem to be as loyal to our friendship as I was. He mainly talked to me if he got something in reward: like smoking, alcohol, gossip.

I thought it was a way of bonding between us. Shared interests. Maybe it was, and i was overthinking it.

I just exhaled loudly, resting my side against the locker before looking at him. His eyes were restless, staring back at me before he shrugged.

"Yeah. I get it.”

“You seem less friendly..” I began.

“Yeah,” he cut in. His voice wasn’t loud. That was the worst part. It was controlled. Careful. I was used to my mother yelling when she was angry. But this was scarier- being serious, and patient like he was drawing out my suffering.

“Because you told Avery about the smoking thing.” I blinked once. “I didn’t think you’d actually say anything,” he added quickly, like the thought had been sitting there rotting. “I got questioned because of you.”

His shoulders shifted. Not toward me. Away, “It’s just… complicated now.” He dragged a hand over the back of his neck, avoiding my eyes. “If she keeps digging, or her friends start talking, I’m the one stuck in it. I can’t..." he paused, exhaled, “I can’t be friendly right now.”

“I tried acting normal,” he said, quieter now. “I tried to just… avoid it so it wouldn’t turn into a thing. But it’s still a thing.” His jaw clenched, “And it makes me pissed off, alright?”

He finally looked at me properly for a second. Then didn’t hold it.

I felt Raggedy rumble beneath my surface. But I was mistaken. Evangeline's insecurities came instead,

He didn’t wait for me to respond, instead just saying "I'll see you later.." and leaving.

I stayed there for a second too long, watching the space where he had been standing, like if I stared hard enough it would rearrange itself into something less serious, less gut wrenching.

I got questioned because of you. That line looped again, cleaner this time. Because of you.

Because of you. My fingers tightened against the edge of my locker. I didn’t even realise I was holding my breath until my chest started to ache.

I can’t be friendly right now. Right now. I repeated it in my head like that word changed much. Right now meant later. It had to mean later, but it didn’t feel like later when he said it. It felt like something else...like there wasn’t going to be a version of this where he came back happy and pleased to be around me. If he ever was.

How I imagine Evangeline!...(digital version)

I hate digital art as i find it MUCH more difficult compared to traditional.

Anyway, take it as you will, I don't really think im 100% happy with this.