Evangeline Sablier is not broken, but please (handlewithcare) wrote in rooms, @ 2015-04-18 19:35:00 |
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Entry tags: | !marvel comics, *narrative, evangeline sablier |
Narrative: Evangeline Sablier
Who: Evie
What: Narrative
Where: Her motel room
When: Last night
Warnings: Blink and you miss it references to past self harm, but nothing graphic at all.
It was late at night, midnight had come and gone a few hours previous and Evie was stepping out of the shower in her motel room bathroom, the hot steam swirled around the bathroom, the old yellow tiles on the wall were gleaming with condensation and the mirror was completely fogged over. She wrapped a scratchy white motel room towel around her body and used her hand to wipe a few streaks across the slick glass of the mirror.
Not for the first time she was taken aback by the face that stared back at her. It was in the eyes, Evie's striking cobalt blue held every part of her and always had. But the girl peering behind the eyes was a girl that Evie recognized well, the girl that Evie had grown out of. They'd had a deal, she'd promised her a life beyond the sadness and fear of her past. She'd promised her bravery and love, promised to find beauty in ugliness and she knew she was letting her down at every turn, but as with all things she was finding herself just as angry at that girl she saw staring back at her from behind those eyes as she was at the deep resonating voice she heard as she drifted to sleep each night. The girl who had only wanted to hurt herself to ease the pressure of the stimuli from emotions she couldn't express. Words she couldn't find, couldn't say in any language.
Evie ran her hands over her wet face and through her dark short locks clasping her fingers at the back of her neck as she stared at herself, harshly judging. Angry at herself, face was drawn, sleepy, she was skinny - once again the girl she'd been forcing her way through. As her hands moved through her hair again, she saw the white blonde out growth beginning to peek out just so and her heart sank to her feet. The sad eyes, the gaunt cheeks, the collar bones sticking out, and the bits of blonde may as well have been the stringy blonde locks of the girl she wanted to forget because that girl couldn't do the things Evie needed to do. That girl who had such pent up rage and pain that all she could do was scratch and scrape at skin and pull at hair until it hurt, she couldn't find the words but the relief came in different ways.
Evie opened the box that was sitting on the counter, the cheapest bottle of hair dye she could fine, she ignored the bones sticking out from her wrist, the same as she ignored the bones in her shoulders, and chest. She didn't bother looking at the instructions, she'd done this enough times that they were just all the same to her, black hair dye was black hair dye.
She knew she could go back to blonde. It was safer now. Norman Osborne wasn't a problem anymore. But the furthest she could get from herself, the better. She wasn't even a shade of who she had been, she never would be, she didn't even remember what it felt like. Now the blond roots just brought back the memories of a girl long gone and disappointed. Promises broken and a life in shambles once again. A life that she'd been proud of, hard work and great strides that meant fuck all, scars that had long faded to white most from others, some from her - if she let herself look too long they could have been angry red and new all over again. They all may as well have been bleeding and stitched from the day Luca found her hiding under a bed and promised an unspeaking, bleeding little girl that no one would ever hurt again.
Did that mean Luca had broken the promises? No. Because no one but her had. She knew she could find the way back. The sickening smell of chemicals were burning her eyes and nose as she massaged it into the blonde roots of her hair. Not bothering with gloves, barely noticing the burn on her nails bitten too short. She knew she could find her way back, she'd done it before, but she'd had such help. She'd had doctors, and money, and her father, and people who were dedicated to her and only her. There was no one in the world who she could ask for that, no one she could ask, would ask, no money for the doctors, no energy for the effort. She'd been a little girl with no responsibility but getting better.
She had no idea when things had gotten bad. When things had gotten this bad. She combed and pulled she knew her hair was supposed to be dry. She didn't care. She just needed it done. Daisy stirred, cooed, and coughed, and Evie paused and opened the door a bit and listened for any other noises in case she woke up. The only thing thus far that could pull her out of her thoughts. Daisy. But it was just a stir. She went back to coloring her hair but turned her back to the mirror. She couldn't look anymore. Wouldn't look. The voice in her head. That voice that wasn't hers, the familiar voice that had once calmed and loved her now only frightened and hated her. Will's voice that told her she was disgusting and disappointing. But still she let it. She listened and took it. Just to hear it. Clear as day. She knew she was sick. She knew she had to get better. She knew it could get worse. She knew it would get worse. But she couldn't do it. She didn't know how. Not by herself. Her strength and her independence was the biggest lie of her life. And the worst part of it was, it was a lie she was learning that she hadn't even known she was telling. Because she'd told it to herself more than anyone else.