Suburbia

We wander back to Eve’s in the early hours of the morning when the sun is not yet visible but we can feel its presence hovering behind the horizon. My eyes close of their own accord and I keep forgetting to open them for a few moments at a time and I instead stumble blindly on, my feet tripping over loose grass and stray rocks. The only reason I can continue to walk at all is Eve’s gentle tugging on my hand in the direction we are supposed to go.

When we enter her house I immediately collapse into the soft haze of her bed, swathed in reels of fabric and the mild glow of fairy lights. My eyes swim in and out of focus along with my consciousness as Eve vanishes only to return who knows how long later with wet hair and clean skin. She crawls onto the bed beside me and her soft breath is enough to lull me to sleep.

When my conscious resurfaces from the silk of sleep once more the sun is high in the sky and streaming through the windows into my bleary eyes. My whole body yearns for more sleep but instead I roll over to my side expecting to find Eve. Instead I am met with an empty bed and the faint crumpling sound of paper beneath me. I force myself up onto my elbows and smooth out the small note that has been left in place of Eve’s slumbering body.

“You wouldn’t wake up when I shook you so I thought you could use the sleep, come find me at school okay?
Eve.”

I turn my eyes to the clock by her bed: it’s almost noon.

I groan and slowly lift myself up from the bed and wander into the bathroom. I stare at myself in the mirror but I don’t process what I see. I splash my face with water and grip the sides of the sink as I take in the ghoulish mask that has been placed over me.

My eyes are hung with dark purple shadows; one side of my face is bruised and grazed while the cut above my eyebrow has scabbed overnight into a hardened, crimson welt surrounded by ribbons of purple and yellow discoloration. My hair hangs dirty and dishevelled around my face and my cheek bones protrude from my face in a way I’ve never noticed before.

I stare at the broken human being before me in awe.

Suddenly a face swims into my vision as I stare at my multiple bruises and welts: Rory.

We had always looked similar with our jutting jaws and furrowed brows, now we seemed to be echoing each other’s physicality’s still. I feel a deep thud in my chest as I think again about what might have happened to him to receive those marks, what had Jackson done. And now I think about it, what new contusions might have been inflicted upon him by Jackson since the last time I saw him?

I feel as if a hand has reached into my chest and crushed my lungs as I rush out the door almost tripping over my feet in my haste. I had barely thought about him and about what Jackson had said. I didn’t even check if he came home last night and my parents sure wouldn’t have the way their night was going. All I know is I have to check if he’s alright, he never knew how to handle himself when it came to trying to impress people, he always got in over his head.

When I reach the school an almost deathly quiet is blanketed over it. I check my watch: it’s the middle of third period. Rory won’t be out of class for another half hour at least, I hover on the spot wondering what to do before I head towards my economics class.

I can barely remember which room the class is in to begin with and stumble through a few empty rooms before I barge into my lesson stopping my teacher in his tracks.

“And where have you been, Mr Matthews?”

I don’t bother to reply but merely head to my seat near the back of the classroom. All the heads in the room swivel to look at me as I pass and the room immediately hums with whispers before abruptly falling silent again as I sit down.

My economics teacher doesn’t seem to have the energy to pursue the issue with me further and continues with the lesson. I lay my head on the table and try to ignore the holes being burnt into various areas of my body by various wondering stares and count the seconds until the bell rings.

“What happened to his face, do you know?” I hear the supposed whisper from all across the classroom.

“Satanic ritual, it’s gotta be.” A voice filled with certainty replies.

I sigh.