>>one

For most of her life, Evelyn's lived in fear.

If anyone were to ask her what her happiest memories were, she would simply say that they all happened before she was born. That's because her memories weren't really her memories.

Any snippet of the past that she could recall never featured her, or anything she'd ever done. Her most prominent recollections weren't of times where she learnt to ride a bike, or went to the beach with her family, or had her first kiss, or fell asleep under the cover of a dreamy starlight sky.

No, she couldn't have nostalgia over things that never happened.

Instead, they were always of Mother.

Mother when she was angry.

Mother when she was upset.

Mother when she hated Evelyn.

Mother when she hated herself...

She could only imagine that Mother's happiest times all existed before, well, she did. She told her all the time, after all, that life before her was much better than it was now. Evelyn didn't doubt it, but it was always hard to imagine that the woman who birthed her was anything other than what she'd always been— cold, controlling, calculating.

As Evelyn swung her dangling legs against the metal rails, she closed her eyes, letting the soft breeze coming from the river below down wash over her.

Sitting on the railing of a bridge probably wasn't the best idea, but she'd always reasoned with herself that if she accidentally fell in one day, it wouldn't be that big a deal.

Not that she should've been mistaken as suicidal though. She knew she had been through enough tough times in her life not to just give up now.

But, it's not like the world would weep after her if she were to just disappear.

It would be so easy— she acknowledged that fact. The only person who would notice her disappearance would be Mother. And even then, Evelyn was convinced that the strongest emotion that would elicit out of her would be anger.

But it's not what she wanted. There had to be more out there in the world for her.

This couldn't be all there was for life to offer.

Too bad that she was always so afraid to do anything about it.

Checking her watch, she sighed.

Time to start heading home.

She pushed herself off of the barrier, on to the hard pavement behind her. Grabbing her bag from the nearby bench, she paused when her eyes skimmed over something white. There was a piece of paper sitting under where her bag had just been— that of which she was sure hadn't been there twenty minutes ago. What really grabbed her attention, though, was who it was addressed to.

To the girl sitting on the bridge.

She could only assume that meant her, considering she didn't see anyone else indulging in her borderline-fatal pastime.

Picking up the paper, she opened it up, smoothing out all the crinkles with a meticulous hand only Mother would be proud of.

"A poem?" Evelyn said lowly, even though she knew there was no one there to hear her. It was almost as if to convince herself of its existence— or more accurately, its absurdity.

She read it once more, unable to understand the pounding in her chest.

She couldn't discern what this was— why someone would do something like this. Strangely, it felt as though she'd been attacked. Each word written to personally shame her, as if to say 'I know your secrets, I know what you're hiding'.

But, surely, that couldn't be the case. If there was one thing Evelyn was good at, it was pretending. No one had a clue about what life what like for her behind closed doors.

At school, she was the quiet girl.

The clever girl.

The one nobody was ever bothered with because there didn't seem like there was anything about her to be bothered by.

And that's because she ensured that all her scars were hidden— even her most visible ones. It wasn't like she could be perfect with her imperfections on display.

That's one thing she had to learn the hard way.

It must've been some sort of joke, she decided. A kid who got bored and wanted to excite their life by messing with another.

Whatever, she thought.

Walking back to the bridge, she threw the paper out into the river and watched as it drifted down, weightless like a feather, not revealing the true nature of its contents.

She didn't stay to see it touch the water though. It was time to get going anyway.

Mother would be home soon.

• • •

"Mother, I'm home," Evelyn said as she entered through the front door, already taking off her black school shoes. She placed them neatly beside Mother's stilettos on the shoe mat before continuing into the kitchen.

There, chopping onions on the counter, was Mother. Tall, slim and hair the colour of honey. Her cheekbones were high, her eyebrows sharp and her posture was impeccable— the image of a perfect woman.

She was everything Evelyn was not.

"Hello Evelyn, how was debate club?" She didn't look up from the chopping board, her fingers gliding the knife effortlessly.

"It was good. My team won the debate today," Evelyn said as she went to the sink to wash her hands. Mother didn't want her bringing germs carried in from her school— 'God knows how often they clean that place Evelyn' she had once said to her.

Things only ever have to be said once before Evelyn would act upon it.

Mother hated to repeat herself.

"Just as I expect from a future lawyer. Now, go and change out of your uniform for dinner."

"Yes Mother."

Evelyn turned around, and headed into the hall to go to her room. As she trudged past the stairs, she paused briefly to peer out the window built to the right of the stairway. It looked out directly into the neighbouring garden. The house had been empty for years. The people who used to live there before were a cute family of four— a mother, a father and two children.

When Evelyn was younger, she used to look out the window and pretend that she was a part of their family. They had always been so warm, inviting her over many times to play, despite how stiff and awkward she could be, and offered to cook them both dinner.

Each time Mother would simply decline.

Eventually it made Evelyn a bitter child. Her and jealousy started to become well acquainted to the point that she couldn't bear to look out there anymore.

However, today she didn't glance outside to reminisce. What caught her notice was the fact that there were people in the garden— faces completely unfamiliar to her. A woman and a younger boy.

Huh, Evelyn thought, Mother never mentioned anything.

Suddenly, the boy was peering at her as if he felt the heat of her stare against his back. Without meaning to, she ducked beneath the window, as though she'd been caught committing a crime.

She supposed, in a way, she was.

She knew better than to get distracted by menial things. Anything she needed to know, Mother would tell her.

That's how it had always been.

After Evelyn had changed out of her plaid school skirt, and white blouse, into her home clothes, she made her way back into the dining room for dinner.

She sat down at the table, with Mother already seated.

"I made tofu today, right off of your diet plan. You know how tofu makes me queasy, but because this is so important for you, I decided to endure it this time," Mother said.

"Thank you, Mother," Evelyn replied, taking a bite of the food. "It tastes wonderful."

Evelyn had never been a very tall girl— 'You can thank the guy who's supposed to be your father for that'— and very early on in her life, this became a problematic imperfection to Mother. Without the extra height, she was a liability to weight gain. And so, for as long as she could remember, diets were a lifestyle for her.

"Anything new today?" Evelyn asked, keeping her gaze down at her plate.

"Nothing except a new client at the firm."

"Oh. That's good."

"And, I suppose, a family moved in next door."

Evelyn looked up at Mother— her face was passive, as it usually was. "Really?"

"They even came over to say 'hello'. Some lady, and her kid. They were very absurd— asking all these questions about this and that. But you needn't worry about that, I doubt they'll be of much bother to us."

She wished Mother would say more about the situation— like where did they come from, what were their names, why did they choose to move here of all places— but she knew she wouldn't have the answers to any of those questions.

Evelyn knew that the conversation was already over.

After all, Mother only ever told her the things she needed to know.