Ashe Hill

Suggested Songs, in this order: Eva by Nightwish, I’ve Got This Friend by The Civil Wars I was awoken by the streams of light peeking through the blackout curtains. I knew it was about time to get out of bed, but I found myself fighting the idea as I did everyday now. I just wanted rest, peace. Last night was a blur, I'd angered Peter again. He'd returned my smart retorts with brutal words. The threats felt heavy in my sleep-deprived brain. "You're nothing without me. No one wants you!" I grasped at my temples, begging the replays to stop as they began. "You're a liar, just like your parents. You'll never be any better than them." The foul names now paraded in my head like a chant- or rather, a curse. I felt him shift and my body stiffened. I froze just like I had last night, I felt myself distance from reality. Quickly, I felt like an observer of my body, aloof, objective. Here, I was safe. Here, the words felt less like screams and more like echoes. My alarm was about to go off as a reminder to drag myself out of bed. I needed to snap back- it was safer now. After all, he wasn't even awake. I moved my body without really even feeling it. Sliding my feet to the floor and grabbing my phone. I shuffled, heavy and silent to the door. I turned the knob and slowly opened the door just enough to fit through. Then, I turned the knob slowly and ever-so-gently swung the door back in place. I was out, but not free. The woman in my bathroom mirror was hard to recognize. Her hair was dry and frazzled looking. Her hazel eyes, bloodshot from lack of sleep and crying. Under her eyes were hollowed, purple circles. She was unusually pale, and her skin was splotchy. Her face and body was puffy from stress and salt cravings. I recognized her as me; time to pull myself together; a smart outfit, light makeup to hide the imperfections, curled hair, fake smile. Giant cup of coffee. I was ready for my day of selling the lies of my life. Behind my fake smile and kind demeanor I felt immeasurably broken. Nothing made me feel more alone than the fact that everyone bought the lie I told, hook, line, and sinker. But…wasn't this always my story? Wasn’t this my legacy? I wanted to declare no, and throw my flag into the Earth, to make a brave declaration that I would not tolerate it anymore. I'd made that promise to myself many times before. I'd broken that promise just as many times. I silently snuck out of the house, Peter, none the wiser. My car is my only freedom. My only regression back to when I was happy, or at least happier. My foot on the pedal, the control of where I'm going. The music blaring- sometimes the only outward expression of anger I have. Other times, the music transports me back to another time. Or, the beautiful silence. All other times, my car is my church- though God hardly seems to answer me. He seems to have as much faith in me as I have in me. Today, my music transported me back to a timeline I remember truly being happy. It still feels like yesterday. But, to be honest, time froze after that era- at least in my mind. Sometimes I wonder if that brief furlough into happiness ever actually happened. It's a weird sensation, leaving a whole era behind you but reliving it constantly. Maybe that's what tragedy does to us. Or, at very least, what disassociation does. I remember being actually free. I remember loving my work, and feeling inspired. I remember staying up late like the night would never end and like I never needed sleep. There were nights I can only recall the bits of inebriated joy- the singing and dancing. My friends were all beside me, like armor. The single shining light was Adam- who stood alone. When being me is no longer safe, I return to him in the corners of my mind. His gentle, broad smile, the way his brown eyes crinkled in the corners. The deep, baritone laugh. The way he assured me it was safe to be truly, unapologetically me. We met completely by accident. Crystal, my best friend, begrudgingly dragged him to a bonfire at her parent’s behest. He wanted to go as much as she wanted to bring him. I sat alongside the fire, warming myself with trash can punch. My friends spoke animatedly about school ending and the colleges they’d soon be off to. I was a school year behind them, so tonight was a little bittersweet. Crystal arrived, late as normal. “Everybody, meet Adam. My cousin. Adam, meet everyone.” Crystal declared, I turned around to greet Crystal with a smile. But instead I locked eyes with Adam. Our gazes held for a moment, a moment too long. We exchanged awkward hellos. Crystal shoved a cup of punch into her cousin’s hand. “Drink up square. Hey, Eva!” She greeted me with a hug and she sat next to me. “Adam, Eva. Eva, Adam.” She hastily introduced us. My cheeks felt hot, I swore to myself it was the fire. “Is Blake here?” She interrogated. “Yes, over there.” I tilted my head in his direction. My friend beamed. “Watch him for me?” Before I could answer, she was off. I laughed at her, and that was the first time I heard the deep baritone of Adam’s laugh. “Cousins?” I asked him. “Unfortunately. Friends?” “Yes, the best.” “Why?” He teased easily. “Bad taste? Alcohol?” I gestured towards my cup. “I’ll drink to that.” We touched glasses and laughed, watching Crystal. We spoke for hours on end. Like most others there that night, we stayed until the fire was almost gone and the sun started peaking on the horizon. Many had at some point fallen asleep. Adam and I were tired, but still awake. Adam’s family was relocating from up north while his father was deployed. His mother wanted to be closer to her sister, Crystal’s mom. He was one year my senior. He had an easy way of talking, and a generous sense of humor. We watched the sunrise that morning, the sky was hazy and full of pinks and oranges. Adam and I were inseparable from that night. We spent the entire hot, hazy summer together. We watched marathons of scary movies, laughing at the bad acting and making jokes. I got him a job at the restaurant I worked at, we spent our shifts pulling pranks on one another. We went to concert after concert, festival after festival. We camped the beach with our friends every other weekend. Everyone saw us- except us. It was the week before school, on my 17th birthday, that he finally came out with it. My friend threw a party on her farm with a giant bonfire in the middle of it all. In the middle of the revelry Adam grabbed my hand and pulled me to the side and into the nearby treeline. “Eva, I have to tell you something.” I nodded, drinking. I looked at him and could see his nerves. “Adam, are you ok?” “I have feelings for you.” He rushed out. Silence lingered between us for a moment. I couldn’t speak. But then the warmth in my chest expanded and I smiled brightly. “Me too.” Adam crooked a single finger under my chin and kissed me. My face flushed, and before he could pull away I grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him back into me. Cheesy as it is, fireworks, sparks, heat, all erupted at once when we kissed. I thought those days would never end, I thought I could capture them in a bottle and freeze time forever. That bottled era shattered into a million pieces the day he went missing. I never knew why, but I always suspected it was my fault. He was the only person I ever truly loved- the only person I ever wanted to love. Love is hazardous.