"bring me down, it's not that easy. lay me down, just please don't leave me. i remember you were climbin' on top of me, why you actin' like you fuckin' forgot me? i've been dreamin' about a place out in hollywood. tell my mama that i'm movin' to hollywood."

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when i got home, it was extremely hard to explain why i was limping and why i looked like an absolute wreck. nor why i was wearing clothes that weren't mine. i simply chose to plead the fifth and return back to my room to sulk.

i felt dirty and not sexually liberated like i thought i would have. the painkillers had finally wore off and now the cut on my foot and the 'pretty much' stab wound in my lower abdomen were causing me so much pain it was becoming harder to ignore, whether peep did a good job stitching me back up or not.

when i'm alone, i overthink.

right now, my current thoughts are convincing me to never go back to gustav's again. i probably shouldn't have even returned there in the first place, but i promise i had no idea that's where i was driving until i had gotten there.

the come down off the drugs is pushing me to extreme nausea so i pushed my door open and took off towards the bathroom, attempting to stay off my bad foot.

i leaned over the toilet on my knees and vomited all of the contents of my stomach into the porcelain, which was mainly alcohol because there wasn't much in my system that i hadn't already puked up. when i was finished, i closed the lid and plopped down onto my butt, groaning loudly.

everything hurts. i sighed and flushed the toilet.

i'm hungry, but i immediately grimaced at the thought of eating anything and immediately throwing it back up again.

i desperately need an amazing, long, steaming hot shower.

"is everything okay in there?" i heard my father calmly question through the door.

"yes, dad. do you think you could bring me some clothes so i can take a shower?" i pleaded with him. i was home on time so there isn't a huge reason for either of my parents to be angry with me but with the state i'm in, i'd probably be busting a nut out of worry right now.

"sure thing, kiddo." i heard him call, already a good couple of feet from the door. a minute or two went by until i heard a knock. i opened it, surprised to see my mom's face instead of my dad's, and although i shouldn't be upset about that—for some reason i am.

"your father sent me instead. he figured you might want to talk to me about these sorts of things because i'm of the female sex as well." well, he was wrong. i rolled my eyes as she pushed passed me into the decently large bathroom—not caring the slightest bit about privacy.

the whole room had an aesthetic, a white, black and lavender theme. it was carefully and attentively decorated by my father who casually leaned towards the calmer, cool toned colors. the other rooms that were decorated with warm tones were designed by my mother, who was more of an angry and irritated person so it fit her.

i didn't want to take my shirt off in front of my mom in fear of her seeing every awful, violent looking mark. even though i wasn't that close to her i still wanted to pitifully beg her for help—with which part, i don't know, but i still just wanted to get down on my knees and cry my heart out desperately to her.

i turned away from my mother as she went to sit on the closed toilet. a lonely tear fell down the left side of my face and i couldn't control it. when i sniffled to keep my nose from running, it alerted my mother.

"i know there's something wrong. spill." she demanded, but shockingly in a calmer tone than i had expected.

so i did.

"i was hanging out with some friends of mine, and they happen to know about my.. little xanax problem. they thought taking me to a cliff and nearly letting me fall off would teach me a lesson about how much my life means to me and how i shouldn't just throw it away on drugs, but in the end they were just being a hypocrite." i said all in one breath, still not facing her.

"go on." in her typical monotone voice she ushered me to continue.

"well, as i said, they're a hypocrite. so like, it was all for nothing. it made me pissed, which made me do drugs."

"their actions made you do drugs? why don't you rethink that statement eve."

shit. she's right. i'm a fucking idiot. just because gustav did coke didn't mean i just had to run off and go do drugs too, that's just ignorant and now who's the one not taking responsibility for their actions?

"you're right."

"i always am." she retorted sassily. i heard her lighter flick and the smell of smoke filled my nostrils. for some reason, this smell made me comfortable. i turned to face her this time.

my mother's face hasn't aged in twenty years. she's the most flawless human being i know and could put any instagram model or kardashian to shame. somehow, everyday, her makeup was absolutely perfect. lipstick and eyeliner are never smudged or applied messily, always with time and precision; even if she didn't wear any makeup it still took her nearly two hours to get ready.

today she's wearing a wine red lipstick that complimented her skin tone and hair color well. the only thing on her body that gives away her age is the tiny silver hairs that are poking out at the roots of her scalp. seeing those made me happy because they were one thing she chose not to touch up on herself.

i slipped the tips of my fingers underneath the shirt that gustav told me i could keep and carefully removed the article of clothing off my body, refusing to make contact with any part of the bruised skin. i felt like a bad apple or a ripened banana.

my mother gasped in horror when her eyes laid upon the mess that was now my body. "oh, my baby," she cried and stood up, rushing over to me. that's the most emotion i've heard in her voice in years. "what happened to you?!"

"well, dangling off a cliff for
seven and a half minutes can somehow do this to a person. trust me, i was shocked too."

"why didn't you call us?!" she was carefully inspecting me, making sure to avoid smothering me to death but still poking me here and there to make sure i didn't have any broken bones or something like that. who really knows with her, though.

"i'm sorry mom, i was just.. i don't know, i thought i was a big girl and could handle myself but i guess i couldn't." she sighed deeply and then started inspecting the bandage that was covering the wound that peep had previously stitched up and covered.

"who did this?" she didn't respond to my previous admission of defeat, just continued on taking care of me like she always did. her nails quickly undid the tape that was holding the bandaid in place and started poking around at the hole that was sewn shut. i squinted and ground my teeth together; the pain was becoming all too much.

"a friend of mine." i seethed, avoiding giving him a name or a real title.

"well you should tell that friend of yours not to quit their day job. these stitches suck," i groaned and started whining, upset at the fact that he done fucked me up in more ways than one. "get in the shower and i'll fix you up when you get out."

"can you take a look at my foot too?"

"after you don't smell like depression and alcohol, thank you." and with that, she left and i turned the shower on as hot as i could stand.

the water that was near painful somehow soothed my bones a tad bit, but my muscles and other parts of my body still didn't feel as lax as i had wanted them to. i stood still, staring down at my painted black toenails, letting the water nearly drown me before i picked my head back up.

although my parents have a decent amount of money and could probably purchase me salon quality hair products, i chose to buy basic strawberry shampoo because i just really don't care about doing anything fancy at this point in my life.

i feel like this is some kind of post-peep-depression. i'm withdrawing from being in his presence, but at the same time i want nothing than to run as far away from him as i possibly can. i feel regret and shame for what we did together and that's not something i should feel if it was something that was really supposed to happen.

don't get me wrong, i care deeply about him but there's just something off—something i can't quite put my finger on, and i'm not sure if i'm ready to find out. i might just disappear for a few days and see if he notices.

after i finished rinsing and washing my body, i felt like a whole new person. it felt good to wash the negative emotions off and out of me like i was only a dirty plate and not a scarred human.
——
i took a step out, and slipped, hitting my head off the side of the bathtub.

i woke up in a hospital room. peep wiz there . he say "evelyn i can't believe u almost dI ed coma back to meh babb." i say noh, and slep him in dah faze.
——

(a/n: at the point of writing the previous paragraph i was a little intoxicated but i thought it would be funny to leave it in)

stepping out of the shower, i cautiously put my clothes on and wrapped a towel around my head to aid my hair in drying. i cleaned up after myself and retreated back to my room, sending my mom a text and letting her know i was out of the shower if she she wanted to come fix the messy job that gustav did.

three knocks on the door. she sent my father instead. i called out to grant him access into my room.

"hey, champ." he greeted me as he walked in, legit first-aid kit in hand.

"hi, dad. did mom clock out?" he chuckled as he came and sat on the edge of my bed, lifting my foot onto his lap.

"no, i just wanted to spend some time with you. even if it is because i'm putting humpty-dumpty back together again," i laughed at his joke, and it soon reminded me of how much i missed being home and not doing crazy shit, imagine that. "so you wanna tell me what happened?"

i sighed. "i don't know, dad. i was being an idiot. i'm sorry if i made you worry at all."

he shrugged his shoulders as he began wrapping my foot in gauze. "your mother convinced me that i had nothing to worry about. i was still terrified, though. you've never really been out in the big bad world and i'm always gonna want to be there to protect you."

"i love you dad."

"i love you too, evie." my heart lurched at the nickname, so i turned my face away from my father so he couldn't see the lonely tear drop run down the side of my face.

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