EVA

Every night, the thunder comes to haunt me. I hear it in my dreams, like crackling fire. I hear it outside every time it rains, which happens to be a lot. My sister always holds me every time it happens. My mind wants to shut down and my heart rate goes a mile a minute. I remember the night it came back. I jumped onto my bed and looked out the window. The thunder screamed with yelps of pain and begged for help with the rage of a billion fires. I covered myself with my blanket and started crying. My sister came in and woke me up. I was dreaming. No. It was my seizures again.

“It happened again, didn’t it?” She said.

I looked at her and nodded.

“Well, I’ll sleep in here with you tonight, if you want.” She smiled at me.

I nodded again and hugged her tight as lightning went off in my brain.

I looked down at the plate in disgust. It was my first time cooking, and I didn’t have my mom to help or even do it for me. I’ve always been a spoiled kid. But what’s different about me is that I know it. Most kids don’t know they’re spoiled; they were raised that way. I’m not spoiled money-wise. In fact, we’re pretty poor. I’m spoiled in attention. I bask in the glow of my parents’ attention, while my sister sits in the shadows. I am their everything. They are wrapped around my finger. 

At least, they used to be. 

My father and mother always loved me, but they treated my sister like nothing. She barely ate most nights, while I filled my belly with piles of food and sweets. Now, everything’s different.

So here I am. Trying to cook a decent meal for myself. My parents abandoned me. The only reason they used to love me more than my sister was because I was “prettier”. My sister had a condition where her face was all scarred and scratched, but my parents never paid attention to her. We never took her anywhere with us and they were so embarrassed to have her as a daughter. I never did anything to stop my parents from hating her. I actually liked her, but I didn’t stop the kids from teasing her at school and I didn’t request making another plate of food for her. I don’t know why. She always shared her toys and helped me with homework. But I loved the attention. 

The thought of my sister makes me wanna cry and scream at the same time. I hate her now. She’s nothing to me. She’s nothing more than the ripped picture of her sitting on my desk. Her disgusting, horrible face staring back at me. 

My parents treated her like dirt, but suddenly she’s the biggest celebrity the world has ever known. She’s become famous for her face. She’s signed brand deals and created multiple successful companies and has a bunch of mansions and friends. My parents were so disappointed in me for not being like her. They were horrible to her, now they’re horrible to me. They treat me exactly like how they treated her. Like dirt. But my sister is still kind to me. I just refuse to live with such an ugly thing that’s world-famous for no reason. I’ll never become famous. Suddenly she’s “defied the laws of beauty” and she’s been to so many interviews and inspired so many little girls and… She’s horrible. I can’t think of words bad enough to describe her. Years of not eating turned her skinny and perfect. I couldn’t believe it when my parents said they were going to live in one of her houses because they can’t live poor anymore. They didn’t even want to take me. They left me behind in this apartment to pay the bills. But I don’t have any money.

I’m not jealous of my sister, but I want her to burn. She is the reason for my life’s failure. My parents’ attention shift. My life being bad. It’s all because of her. I can only think about her now, so I take the ripped pieces of the picture and throw them in the trash. That’s where she belongs.

I don’t miss my sister at all. Did she ever do anything to make me hate her this much? No. But that doesn’t stop me from absolutely loathing her. 

“Everything bad that happens to me is because of her,” I think to myself, as I zip on a jacket at three in the morning to go to the park because I can’t sleep. 

I open the door and start walking. This is probably dangerous. Who knows what kinda weirdos are lurking around at three a.m.? But I still keep moving anyway. I don’t care if I get kidnapped, because if I do, it’s all my sister’s fault. How is it my sister’s fault? I don’t know. But I’m sure it still is.

I walk around the apartments until I reach the playground. It’s managed by the complex, but no kids ever play on it. I sit down on the slide and stare at the street lamps, the only light I can see right now. The only light. 

“Eva?” A voice says. I turn around slowly. It’s her. The monster. The horrible, disgusting thing with the horrible, disgusting face.

My piercing scream floods the complex, and I start running like I’m trying to get away from the police. I don’t know where I’m going. Just away from her. I reach my apartment, get inside, and lock the door. After all these years, she’s back. She came for me. Is she trying to kill me? Probably.

I hear a knock at my door and close my eyes. Go away. Go away! Oh, why didn’t I just take the medicine like the doctor said? One big pill a day and one small one after every meal. My sister is crazy. No. I am. I’m crazy. Help! 

I woke up, sweating, in a blank white room. A nurse walked in with a needle the size of a large boulder in her hand. I felt shock and tiredness rush through my veins. My eyes wanted to rest, but my brain was on fire. My heart was beating like it had to power the entire world. My sweat was dripping all over the bed I was tied to. 

“Hello Eva. Welcome to the asylum.”  The nurse said maniacally.

“Get me out of here!” I screamed.

“I’m afraid we can’t do that. You’re gonna stay here. Forever.”

I started screaming until my throat felt like sandpaper. The nurse kept laughing her evil laugh until I woke up, screaming. I look around. There’s motivational posters all around me on a soothing blue-colored wall. I’m on a couch, sweating through the fabric. I sit up and I’m surprisingly not tied down. A small lady wearing a yellow pantsuit who looks as though she was taking notes on a couch across from me looks up.

“Oh, you’re awake. Thought that seizure would last forever.” She says cheerfully.

“Who are you? What am I doing here?” I start getting up, panicked.

“Woah, Woah, Eva sit down. I’m trying to help you.”

I look into her brown eyes and find truth. Some of the only trust I have left tells me to believe her. So I comply.

“Ugh. This all happened because of my terrible sister.” I sit back down and put my face in my hands.

“Sister? Eva, you don’t have a sister. At least, not anymore.”

“What?” 

The lady looks confused, then it’s like a spark goes off in her mind. “Oh, yes, you’re the special case.”

“What do you mean?” I say, getting angry.

“You see, Eva, I am a therapist. Here to help you with your struggles. And I think it’s time you came to terms with your schizophrenia.”

“My- huh- oh. I forgot.”

“Yes, I know you did.” She looks at me apologetically, almost in pity.

“Schizophrenia is a disorder where in most cases, you take a break from reality. There are many other complicated parts to it, but that’s the most major symptom you have. So, tell me what happened.”

“Nothing happened.” I say, “It was my sister. I can’t believe my parents love her.”

“Eva!” The therapist says, loud but calm, “Your parents and sister died years ago.”

I look at the therapist like she just stabbed me.

“I can’t believe I’m telling you this story again, Eva.”

“The story of my sister’s horrible face?”

The therapist looked shocked, “Eva, how long has it been since you’ve looked in a mirror?”

I shrugged my shoulders, “All the ones in my apartment are broken.”

“Yes, the apartment that’s six months behind payment.” The therapist looks back at her clipboard, then gestures towards the mirror on the wall. I get up slowly and walk to it like I’m afraid. But maybe I am. I look at the thing staring back at me. My sister isn’t the one with the scars. I am. Ew. 

“There was a terrible fire.” The nurse started, “The entire house went up in flames. Your sister and parents were with you, but they never made it out. Your sister was the one who caused the fire. It was an accident. She turned on the stove and her dress caught fire. Your parents were upstairs, arguing as usual. And you were playing with blocks. Your sister, Esther, got stuck under the chandelier that fell from the ceiling. She cried and yelled for you to escape. You kept running until we got you out, but your parents and sister died. And the fire left you with some scars. In your versions of reality, you hate your sister because she started the fire. You feel like your parents left you because they never came back. Part of your stories is that you always saw your sister lurking in the shadows when you were younger, while you were being ‘spoiled’. You were only seeing things. She died when you were only ten. That was eight years ago.”

“No.” I said, touching the scars on my face. They felt like a hot stove. I look down at my stomach, wrapped inside my lacy white dress, and it feels like I haven’t eaten for hours. But I probably haven’t eaten for days.

“I can’t say this hasn’t happened before. Your last one was that your parents left you on the side of the street in a box, and your sister kicked you until you scarred. But every time it happens, you go to treatment for a week, then leave. I’m afraid you can’t leave this time, Eva.”

“I’m sorry.” I look up at her.

“It’s not your fault. I’ve never seen a case this bad. Your parents knew, but it got dramatically worse when you escaped the fire.”

I started pacing the room, and then I laughed. I laughed so hard. More than I’ve laughed in years.

Then I looked at the therapist, “All right. I’m done. I don’t know what’s real and what’s not. I’m scared and hopeless. Terrified and who knows? Maybe I’m still dreaming.”

The therapist looked at me.

I looked back into her eyes, “Take me away.”

“I’m sorry Eva. Therapy and hospitalization is only for crazy people.”

“But I’m crazy, aren’t I?” I lock my gaze onto her eyes.

“No, Eva. You’re worse than crazy. You’re asylum crazy.”

Two men in black suits barged into the room. They started sprinting towards me, but didn’t grab me before I jumped just out of reach. Tears started racing down my face as I ran towards the open door. I could hear the therapist lady screaming for them to catch me. I ran like the night I was running from Esther. But I was really running from my imagination that time. 

Who knows? Maybe this isn’t happening. Maybe I’m tied to a chair right now, being delivered food from a dog door and whipped until I scream in an insane asylum. But I just keep on running. My eyes burn with fear and my veins are exploding with rage. Classic Eva.

My life was flashing before my eyes. Much of it was make believe. How could I forget? Forget that terrible night? My mind sees and believes only what it wants to. Why me? Why aren’t Esther and Mom and Dad alive, and we’re one big happy family? No night terrors or fantasies or daydreams, and everything that’s happening to me, happened to someone else. Why not? It’s so unfair. All of this is a mistake. It’s all my fault, somehow. But I’ll never be able to put the puzzle pieces of my life back together. I just keep on running down the hallway. It feels like it’s going to keep going on forever. How long is it?

“Evelyn Alice Hartley, get your butt off the bed right this second, or so help me, I will make you clean the entire house!”

“Mama?” I stop suddenly and look back. My mother is standing there in a spotless white robe, her arms crossed, one foot tapping gently on the floor over and over. 

“Mama!” I run towards her, then stop, “No. It’s not really you, is it?”

“I don’t care, Eva! You’re cleaning your room before your uncle gets here or he’s gonna think we live like pigs in a sty.” She says firmly. My mother was always so beautiful, her graceful hair flows elegantly down her shoulders. Her perfectly shaped face with a bright complexion matches her perfect blue eyes. 

Someone clears their throat behind me. I turn around and I’m standing face to face with the therapist. She looks oddly tall when she’s not sitting on a pastel pink couch, though. She opens her mouth and blurts, “The fact that this is the only real memory of your mom makes us pretty sad, Evelyn.”

“It’s Eva. And what are you talking about? You can’t see my memories.”

“Really? ‘Cus right now, it’s here in front of me.”

I look back at my mom. The therapist struts towards her angry stance and walks right through her. 

“Technology these days, am I right?” She snarls.

I stare at her, confused. I was almost at the exit. I could’ve made it, if I wasn’t so stupid.

“We scanned your brain, Eva. We see everything you remember, and the things you can’t quite recall. And not to mention the fact that we can project them,” the therapist gestures towards the hologram,“I think it’s about time we got to know each other better, Eva. I’m Ruby.”

I look at her outstretched hand in disgust. Very slowly, I reach out, shake it, then wipe my hand on my plain white dress.

“I should probably mention that you were running down a trick hallway. It keeps on going, but gets you nowhere.”

“WHAT DO YOU WANT?” I shout.

“Ah, yes. Well, I suppose we shouldn’t beat around the bush. We need you for research, Eva.”

I’m about to start running again before a body comes up behind me, throws a cloth on my face. I breathe in the strong scent, and drift off to sleep.