It’s the first time in three weeks that he sets foot outside the house, unless you want to count the one in which his parents dragged him to the airport and, consequently, in a totally new and unknown place whilst Evan wasn’t too conscious about what was happening.
All this time in a new place and they didn’t even try to convince him to go out and explore on his own. He had appreciated; doing differently would’ve been useless. Forcing him to leave the house when he obviously wasn’t ready to do it would’ve ended up with Evan barricading himself and building walls higher than the ones he had put up after his last hospitalization. They would’ve lost him and there wouldn’t have been a single chance to get him back. They didn’t insist and as much as Evan appreciated them not invading his space, he felt a little disappointed. He thought they would try and fight more for him and his wellbeing, not that they would simply give up and hope for a miracle they didn’t even believe in.
It’s not that the new life is worse than the old one—What could be worse than being locked in a hospital room, completely alone and taking antipsychotic shit all day long? A brain that doesn’t properly work, a world that it’s still twisted and weird despite the therapies, a world he doesn’t recognise and that is waiting to hurt him. What could be worse than this? Being released into it without answers nor solutions, being put on a plane and land in a new place with absolutely no one by his side that can understand whatever is crossing his mind. Another hospital. What could be worse than this?
It’s just that Evan doesn’t belong in his family anymore. He stopped being part of it long ago. The more he looks at them, the more he feels like he’s looking at strangers, people he should’ve known but whose existence is not really a concern of his. They’re just puppets that walk around in an old house they carefully and thoughtfully decorated in order to hide the discomfort and run from the problems they can’t solve by snapping their fingers. They talk, sometimes they even try to include him in their conversations because they’re sure that for Evan, being locked up in his room all day long it’s not healthy.
What his parents don’t realise though, is that Evan knows why they’re doing it. They’re trying to give him the normal life he never had so they can punish him for the silence treatment he’s using to fight their efforts. They want to do everything in their power so they can throw his ungratefulness back, right in his face when the moment to confront him comes.
Evan is not sure he has any saying in whatever his parents are trying to orchestrate for him. He doesn’t care, doesn’t want to care. Every time they try to put some sense into the younger of their children, Evan just looks away, sometimes stabs the food in his plate without really eating it nor listening to whatever they’re trying to tell him. Sometimes he scratches the spine of the books they arranged in his room. Everything is good enough to show them how uninterested he is into their efforts and their feelings. They did the same with him, after all. Why should he behaved differently? Why should he give them another chance? He didn’t get one in first place.
The one that left the hospital three weeks before is not the Evan that people knew in his old town. He’s not relaxed and curious anymore, he’s not willing to go back to the few friends he had back then, let alone finding new ones. If something has not changed, it’s his being introvert and secretive, weary when it comes to deal with other people, strangers above all. He always had some trust issues and never really made an effort to open up to the others, but now Evan is on a complete lockdown. He wonders if there’s someone left out there able to get through him.
Now that he’s back in the normal world, in a town that seems so far away, he barely remembers the faces of those who managed to break through his walls and make him a different person, someone Evan was starting to enjoy more than his current and usual past self.
He doesn’t remember their voices. He’s not sure at all he ever had any friends, but he remembers with clarity a laugh, loud and genuine; a perfume, not one of those who usually nauseates him; strong arms and fierce slaps on the back. The hugs, warm and safe, during the saddest moments. Maybe that’s a life that never belonged to him. Maybe it was all a dream, an illusion, a side effect of the medicines he had to take whilst in the first mental facility. Maybe he lived a life that didn’t belong to him at all, by mistake. Like a thief.
What he remembers with certainty is red curly hair never styled. Freckles. Brown eyes that were always warm and cheeky. Eyes that were only his, that were always ready to understand and support him. Eyes that could find him even in the most crowded of the rooms. Eyes that were only for him.
He wonders if this is the reason behind their hunt: a life he borrowed, a collection of potentially fake memories, memories that he has stolen, that don’t belong to his mind. What a foolish thing to think.
Ever since he came to this new city, he feels like he’s entered a new space-time dimension, totally different from the one he has lived in until a few weeks before, and the more he thinks about Yvonne, Uriel and Eean, the more he’s convinced something is definitely not right. There’s a piece of the puzzle missing. That’s why he decided that the time to go out and explore has finally come.
The minute he wraps his thin fingers around the door handle, he hears steps getting closer. Evan goes still, his muscles are shaking for the effort and it’s taking up all his willpower to stay put and don’t run away like the thief he feels he is.
Uriel is the one who appears at his back after a little while but Evan can’t relax. The man’s desire to have a normal kid is strong, and the fact that Evan is broken is undeniable and the boy doesn’t know why his father is there. He could be harmless, but he could also be there to fight him. His father never physically hurt him but Evan feels like he doesn’t know any of them anymore. Especially Uriel who is everything but a violent man. He knows rationally speaking that he’s safe, that Uriel only wants to help, but his body is acting under its own will and Evan is still tense and ready to fly, to get defensive.
«Are you leaving?» Uriel asks, in a severe tone. It feels like an order, a request that demands immediate answer more than a curiosity, but that’s the way his father talks in everyday life. Evan is used to it and it stopped bothering him a long time ago. He doesn’t even need to turn around to see his disappointment and the way his eyebrows lift up whilst he waits for his answer. There’s nothing new to him in that scene even though his father changed as well, ever since Evan came back home. Too bad he really can’t remember how Uriel used to be before, no matter how hard he tries.
Evan nods a little in response, not willing to have a conversation with him in that exact moment. He learnt the hard way what is the price to pay for questions that go unanswered and how unwelcome silence is for the man. His lips snaps and an “ah!” leaves them before Uriel can take it back. The mouth twists in a victorious smile and Evan would really love to tell him to don’t feel like he owns this victory yet, because he’s still in time to change his mind and act like the coward he actually is, but he keeps quiet and lets Uriel have his moment.
«And didn’t you think of letting one of us know, at some point? Perhaps to take Eean with you?»
Evan denies with a slight movement of his head.
Obviously he thought about it and decided against. He planned on leaving the house alone, quietly and without being caught and then, in the same way – quietly and alone – he would’ve come back and sneaked into his room like nothing ever happened. Yet again the floor had to creak louder than usual, the keys had to fall from the hanger and the coats had to imitate them. The world is really conspiring against him.
«I don’t like the idea of you being out there alone,» Uriel comments. It’s just a reprimand and Evan doesn’t need to turn to see that his eyebrows are now joined in a frown and that his forehead is full of crinkles. He already knows that his mouth is a thin line and his face is straight and his expression is severe.
It doesn’t matter that Uriel is not a fan of the idea of Evan wandering around the city on his own; Evan doesn’t want to go with Eean and he’s not going to bring him. It’s not tradable. So he shrugs and lowers the handle, ready to take his leave but Uriel stops him.
The man gets closer, hides Evan’s body with his one and looks at his son cowering back. He wonders when Evan became that thin and afraid, when did he himself become so scary that his younger boy has to hold his breath and brace himself for some kind of violence that will never happen. Evan is shaking so violently that Uriel’s heart misses a beat.
«Be careful and come back for dinner. Your mother would appreciate if we’d sit down all together for a meal, every now and again.» With a sigh, Uriel takes his hand away from the door, where he put it to lean over his son and speak quietly in his ear, then he moves away. He doesn’t leave, but he gives Evan some space to breathe.
It hurts to see him clutching the wood so fiercely and Uriel looks away because he can’t bear that sight. The words he said two years ago whilst throwing a vase off of the shelf come back to him in the blink of an eye. He remembers what he told his wife, what horrible things he thought of his own son, what Eean told them later that night, when Evan had locked himself in his room and Yvonne had cried herself to sleep.
“Couldn’t you give birth to a normal kid?!” he had shouted. But Evan wasn’t broken. Evan was just scared of something that none of them could see nor understand. Evan has always been perfectly normal; he just needed an ally, someone he could count on and they all betrayed him. No wonder he’s afraid and prefers to hide in his room than to talk with any of them. They took everything from him and didn’t even realise it.
Uriel thinks that Eean was right after all. They should apologise, give him a second chance. But it’s too late now.
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