There is only one thing in her life Eden was certain of. And that is that you can't find what you're looking for if you know where to look.

She sat on the same old couch, in front of the same old window, looking at the same old stains on the same old carpet and wondering the same old thing over and over again; why even try?

The answer was simple; Ace. He did not leave until unholy hours of the morning, when Eden insisted he needed some sleep. He did not, however, sleep over, but headed down the road to wherever he lived.

Eden found herself wondering about his life, his family. What was his room like? Did he have people that loved him unconditionally? Eden hoped he did; because Ace deserved that. Though, still, there was countless questions, and Eden had countless different answers, though doubted any of them were correct.

But the most important one was why he wanted her to remember whatever there was to remember, so badly?

"You're wasting your breath asking that question," he told her.

"You're wasting time not answering it," she fired back.

"So we're both wasting time and breath. Why not just make out already?" Eden wasn't used to Ace being so blunt, but she actually cracked a smile, to which he grinned so wide that if he didn't have ears, he'd smile around his head.

It was a Friday afternoon, and she felt like falling asleep, but couldn't really sleep. She heard shuffling in nana's room, and went to check on her, to see the old lady sleeping peacefully, for once. She smiled lightly, a tear she didn't acknowledge slowly gliding down her scarred cheek.

"What did I do to you all," she whispered into the void, "to make you all long for someone who's not existing in this body anymore."

She leaned on the doorway and kept her gaze on her poor grandmother, the tumor eating at her brain, bringing out all the things she kept quiet about for so long. It was traumatizing, though she didn't want to admit it, to have the one person you completely trust tell you everything you feared.

Eden knew it wasn't her fault. But she also knew that it wouldn't make it hurt any less, and with the reassurance of anyone, she would still feel guilty.

She worked as much as she could as long as she could. She didn't feel her legs anymore, and sleep was a stranger. Eden was sure it was one of the worst times in her life. She needed money, because if she couldn't save her grandmother's life, she could at least provide shelter for both of them as long as she could.

If her lungs weren't drowning in depression, she'd be able to make a living out of the money she got. But she needed to pay rent and other bills, and faking that it was her grandmother paying it took a lot of effort. If it wasn't for Ace, she probably wouldn't eat. She fed her grandmother a chicken soup Ace brought every three days. And she thanked him, over and over again, and he'd just smile, saying he owed her his life. She didn't know what he meant, and he played so many mind games, and he sometimes said so many things that confused her to the limit. But he seemed to see in her someone who wasn't there, and she was afraid to ask about it. So she'd lie to him and he'd lie to her, and so they went in sinner circles.

She worked in Scream since dawn to sunrise, hating every second of it. She barely attended school, but somehow, no one noticed. Well, almost no one.

Mr Peterson appeared at her door that dreadful Friday afternoon with a worried smile. Eden opened the door with caution, since Ace didn't knock, she didn't think there was no one else left to come and see her. She was surprised at his arrival, and he was a smart man, so there was no saying that everything was fine and dandy, since he read the face of the girl like a book; though she wished, if she was already a book to read, that he wouldn't know how to read it.

"You barely attend your classes anymore," he said, sitting on the uncomfortable chair in the cold kitchen. She offered him tea (which she did not have) and he probably figured that her kitchen was completely empty, so he politely declined. 

She sat opposite him, wearing an old ripped jumper and the same old jeans she always wore. Cold seeped through her ripped socks, and her hair was not in a great condition, since she didn't wash it that often, and when she washed it, she used body shampoo she stole once from a cheap motel.

She nodded at him, not looking up to meet his eyes. He seemed like an average man with an average pay and an average life. He was kind, and he was smart, and Eden couldn't place why he would appear at her doorstep.

"I am worried about you," he said, crossing his arms.

"You don't have to be," she said. "I'm just living through a minor crisis."

"I know you aren't," he said. "Your attendance is, well, barely existent. You look devastatingly tired and exhausted. Eden, you can tell me if something is wrong."

"This isn't anything you should worry about, Mr Peterson," she said, "my grandmother should be going in surgery soon, and once she's better, I'll be better."

Lies were catapulting out of her mouth without stopping, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to stop them.

"Where are your parents, Eden?" he asked, and she didn't like that he was asking so many questions.

"Out of town," she lied again, now looking into his eyes. She had no problems lying to most people, and fortunately, Mr Peterson was included in that bunch.

"If you need help, you know you can talk to me," he said, trying to reassure her. She nodded.

"Thank you sir, but, I honestly don't think you can help me with anything that needs help."

"Your kitchen needs help," he said. "I can give you some money-"

"No," she cut him off. "That would be too much to ask. Thank you for stopping by, but you'll be doing yourself a favor if you didn't worry about me."

"I don't want to drop any bombs on you," he said, "but Eden, you don't look healthy, your skin is transparent and if I didn't know you any better, I'd say you had drugs under your couch."

"I wouldn't use the money I'd have on drugs," she snorted. "Seriously, thanks for coming. But I have work tonight." He nodded, knowing he wasn't wanted there. Sometimes there is so much a man can do. And she thanked God that he got the hints that she didn't want help; she herself didn't know why, but she knew she'd never pay him back. Eden more than appreciated his worry, but she assured him she'd be fine.

Later that night, something rather strange occurred. Eden lifted her head from the arm of the couch, her legs still asleep. She glanced at the doorway of the living room, but saw nothing. As she was about to lay down again and blame it on lack of sleep, there was another strange sound. She instantly shot up, her tired eyes scanning the place.

As her gaze landed upon her grandmother, she was relieved and terrified in the same time.

"Nana?" she asked. "What are you doing up?" The woman didn't even glance in her direction as she walked towards the kitchen. Eden rushed after her, her bare feet cold. She cautiously walked behind her grandmother.

"Nana you're supposed to be asleep," Eden said in a whisper. The woman then turned towards her, leaning next to the stove, like all the times she did when she was waiting for a meal to be cooked and questioned Eden about her uneventful day.

Eden was stunned as to how she was walking. She was completely lost, not knowing what to do. The moonlight that came through the window could fool her for sunrise, and sleep deprivation could make it seem like she was dreaming. She didn't know if she was dreaming that her grandmother was good again, or bad again, but both seemed equally terrifying.

"Behind you," the woman said. Eden looked behind her, and saw nothing.

"What's behind me?" Eden asked.

"It's her," she said.

"Who?" Eden asked.

"You can't escape her," nana insisted, and Eden kept looking around, alarmed.

"Who?" she asked again, completely and utterly confused.

"Time."

+

A peek into Ace's mind

She looked down, a perfect tragedy plastered on her face. She didn't acknowledge me, but I knew she knew I was there. Her eyes scanned across the papers; rent, bills and what not. I offered a helping hand, and she swatted it away- I didn't know why she kept doing that.

"Lie to me," she whispered, closing her eyes, and my heart shattered. She knew love wouldn't fix her. She wasn't a stupid girl. She didn't see beauty in pain, and she didn't see love as a salvation. She just needed it to strengthen her. Even if it was a lie.

"I love you," I utter, my heart tearing to shreds with every letter. She visibly relaxed, her eyes finally meeting mine, and they were the only thing that remained the same. The scar on her face, the cracks on her lips, the pale cheeks, sharp collar bones- I saw no flaw in them.

But she did. And there was no point in arguing with a tainted mind.

So I didn't say anything, just what she wanted to hear. And she did the same. And somehow, along the way, I think we both forgot what we wanted to say.

 +