>>eight

"I can't really understand why you do this," Darren asked her as she sat on the bridge railing, letting her legs dangle off the edge precariously.

This was something that Evelyn had thought a lot about herself too. Why would something potentially life-threatening appeal to her so much? After wracking her brain, she managed to shorten the list of reasons to one single motive.

"Control. I sit here because I like the control. Like I'm on the edge, but only I know whether I'd let go or not."

He peered down in front of them. "Have you tried?"

"Tried what?"

"Letting go."

She gave him an incredulous stare. "Of course not."

Swinging his legs over effortlessly, he sat down next to her. "Let's try then."

For a second, she had to discern if he was being serious. Her reaction was to laugh nervously. "No, I could never."

"Look, if you're worried about hurting yourself— this jump is nothing. I've done worse. I promise you'll be safe."

"It's not even that," she said, the volume in her voice faltering. "If I came back home all wet, my mother..."

"No, I get it, your mum's a bit strict." He bit his lip in contemplation, white teeth lightly pressing into tender, pink skin. "How about this? I'll take you to mine after to dry off— my electric heater works wonders. Ten minutes tops."

The more he spoke, the more tempting the offer was beginning to sound.

But she knew this feeling all too well— the need to push herself to the absolute limit, to feel some kind of rush and to get away with it, with only the residual adrenaline high left in its wake. And so, she also knew why it wasn't a good idea. It's been years since she told herself she was done with trying to break the rules.

It's been years since she's felt much of anything.

"She'll still know..."

"I won't tell if you don't."

She glanced at her watch­. It was 3:00PM— she had an hour and a half before Mother came back from work.

"Evelyn," he said, willing her to look at him. She didn't know how he did it, but the fervent look in his eye was enough to reassure her more than any words could. "I'll get you back before four thirty. Heck, I'll one up myself and say even before then. I promise."

"How did you know that?..." She asked, mystified that he somehow knew what time she needed to be home.

He smirked. "Okay, how do you want to do this?"

Her heart started to rev up in speed, the usual comforting rhythm increasing to an almost painful thump against the cage of her ribs.

Was she really going to do this?

"I—I guess we just jump?" She tightened her grip against the rail to prevent her fingers from shaking. Even as she stood there, making all the motions of getting ready, her mind hadn't fully registered what it was that was going to happen.

Like at any second, she would call it quits.

"On the count of three then?"

"Okay," She took in a deep breath. "One..."

This isn't real.

"Two..."

Oh God.

And as they yelled the final number unison, it was only then that full-blown realisation smacked her in the face, seconds too late as she pushed of the ledge and let herself fly into the unknown.

In those few moments between the sky and water, she was weightless. Nothing held her down— all the fear, and worry and anger separated from her drifting body, plummeting into the water below her with the force of an earthquake.

As she splashed into the surface, she tried to hold onto that feeling for a second more, before swimming up to the surface for air. She gasped in a breath as if it was first she'd ever taken. Something about it felt so raw and fresh that she couldn't get enough of it.

"Woo!" Darren yelled, his exclamations of happiness echoing all around them. The golden of his hair had darkened to a deep bronze, and water trailed down his face, highlighting the lines and edges of his jaw.

"That was..." Evelyn said, unable to find a single word in the very vast, and expansive knowledge of her mind to describe what exactly she felt.

"That definitely was."

They both looked at each other, trying to catch their breath and the only thing they could exchange at that moment was cacophony of laughs and smiles.

• • •

They reached Darren's house by 3:40PM, considering they only lived a short walk away from the bridge. All the while, they had to endure many arduous stares from the elder folk in this town, probably dubbing them as "up-to-no-good" teens. But the way they gave them a wide berth was the last of Evelyn's concerns. Her veins were still pumping vigorously, and she wished it would never end.

However, her heart came to an almost complete standstill when they entered the house, and Darren yelled out "Mum, your favourite son is home!"

"Wait," she said lowly. "I though the house would be empty."

"Oh, don't worry. It's just my mum. Dad's at work, like the workaholic he is."

Panic started to rise up in her chest, and she tried to feebly push it back down.

Just stay calm.

It's okay.

But no matter how much she tried to reassure herself in that moment, all the fear and regret that she typically harboured bubbled up to the surface once more.

Hesitantly, she followed him down a slim hallway to the kitchen that resided at the very back.

Despite being in his house for the first time, she didn't have the mind to take in much of her surroundings. However, the one thing that she did notice was that the ambiance here was completely different to her own. She couldn't quite place her finger on what made it that way though.

Upon entering the kitchen, they were met with a woman of a stocky build, lightly greying hair and warm eyes. When she saw them, though, those eyes widened.

"Oh, good Lord! What have you been up to?"

Immediately, Evelyn apologised. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I knew we shouldn't have—"

"No, no, no honey, I'm not angry. Just a very confused mother is all," the lady amended immediately, giving her a smile. "I'm Lisa, by the way. You're Claudine's daughter, aren't you?"

"Uh, yes, Evelyn," she said, but her confusion was apparent. She couldn't quite understand Lisa's reaction, and that made her feel all the more unstable. Despite her qualms, she stuck out a hand for Lisa to shake, knowing it was the proper thing to do.

"Oh, none of that nonsense," she exclaimed, before surprising Evelyn by taking her into a hug.

She didn't mean to, but Evelyn stiffened as warm arms grasped her tightly.

Hugging wasn't something Evelyn knew much about. Just as Mother held herself as a stoic and aloof lawyer, this reflected through into her home life too. Affection wasn't a word that lived in their house. It was not something that Mother was inclined to give and in those rare occasions she did, the intensity of it all conflicted Evelyn.

To her, a hug usually felt more like being stabbed in the chest. That single moment in time when her hands were around Evelyn to pull her close, only to hear Mother whisper "think again" and cut her wide open.

It wasn't something to dwell on. She would rather view hugging as a foreign concept— something that only thrives behind a TV screen, something that doesn't really exist.

She closed her eyes for only as long as the exchange lasted. If Lisa noticed her strange behaviour, she didn't take mention it.

"Well, it's nice to finally meet you Evelyn. You guys should go dry up before the kitchen turns into a swimming pool."

Both Darren and his mother laughed at that, but Evelyn could only muster a weak smile in return, squeezing her hands together in an attempt to dispel her unsettled energy.

"We're on it," Darren assured, and was about to turn around before he seemingly remembered something. "Oh, and mum, you mind not mentioning this to Mrs L?"

Lisa glanced over at Evelyn. "Don't worry about it honey. I won't say a word."

Evelyn didn't know how well she was at keeping her word, but she hoped it was worth something.

Pushing any further thoughts over the situation to the side, she followed Darren back into the hallway, and up the stairs. Along the adjacent wall, there were many pictures of his family. Mostly of him and his mother, with only the odd few containing his father too. Nonetheless, they all looked so happy and carefree.

Nothing like the family portraits she had at home.

Or, more accurately, family portrait.

Mother had spent a great deal of money for a good photographer, and after all the pictures they took, deemed just one to be good enough to hang in the house.

It was a simple one, both of them sitting down, looking directly at the camera with polite smiles on their face.

So stiff.

So unnatural.

"Welcome to my writer's den. Or more commonly known as my bedroom by those less creatively inclined."

Evelyn assumed he was making a joke, but when he pushed the door open, she was faced with a room cluttered by a mammoth number of books, loose sheets of paper and pens. Posters covered the walls— a mixture of poetry and bands, all unfamiliar to her.

It was like she was taking a direct tour into his mind.

He laughed awkwardly, kicking a pair of boxers under his bed. "Don't judge me too hard about the mess. It looks bad, but everything has its own specific place."

"I don't really mind it," she found herself saying without meaning to.

You're not leaving this room until it's perfect. How do you expect people to respect you if you can't even keep a clean room?

"No," she corrected herself. "I like it."

Darren looked at her for a second, brows furrowed. "Sometimes you say some really unexpected things."

"Oh."

"No, it's not a bad or anything. Just an observation."

"Now I'm convinced you use that notebook to write such observations about me," she joked, gesturing to the little black book that he almost always had on him.

It was what he used to write in anytime they were at the bridge. She'd asked about it before, but he was a bit evasive about it, so she let it go.

He laughed. "You caught me red-handed. Let me get you some dry clothes to change into."

He passed her a shirt and some trousers she doubted would fit, but she took it graciously regardless.

Entering the en-suite bathroom that he directed her towards, she closed the door softly behind her. As she peeled off her own soggy trousers, she remembered what she'd placed into the back pocket early today. Sighing, she pulled out a completely soaked-through folded piece of paper.

"No chance of recovering this," she muttered. After she'd gotten dressed, feeling a bit like a clown in the oversized clothes, she stepped out.

Darren was rummaging through a draw when he stopped to look at her. The moment went on for longer than it should have, and heat started to rush to the layers of her skin at the sudden attention.

"What is it?" She asked.

"Oh." He shook he head. "It's nothing. What's that in your hand?"

"It's something I wrote but it's a bit..."

"No problem," he said earnestly, grabbing it from her. Taking out a hair dryer, and setting it on full power, he proceeded to dry the paper. For some reason, Evelyn wanted to laugh at the sight, but decided against it, opting for a small smile instead.

When he was done, he went and sat on the bed, considering every other surface was covered in one thing or another.

"Come, sit," he said, nodded his head to the space beside him.

She did, leaving a decent amount of space between them, but he scooted over to her, bridging the gap.

He was close enough that their shoulders brushed lightly.

Holding the paper between them, she tried not to watch him as he read.

"This is really something," he whispered. The heat of his gaze was suddenly apparent, to the point that Evelyn was compelled to look up.

She faltered.

Somehow, they were closer now.

She didn't like how close he was because she was starting to notice things she hadn't before. Like how long his lashes were, or how bright the flecks of gold in his eyes appeared or how soft the caramel strands of his hair looked.

Or how attractive he actually was.

Boys only ever want one thing, the voice echoed in her head.

This kid is no different.

In an instant, she turned her head away, her heart in her throat and her breathing unsteady. The back of her neck prickled at how tangible the voice sounded, like there was this living, breathing entity taking residence in her mind made up of the same particles as the woman who gave her life.

It was everywhere.

She was everywhere.

That was something that wouldn't ever change.

Evelyn ensured to keep her distance for the rest of the visit, keeping it as short as she could.

When she returned home that night, she prayed that Mother wouldn't smell the scent of boy on her.