“I never hurt nobody but myself, and that's nobody's business but my own.”
Eve Sophie Abercrombie was born feeling wounded. She was also born second.
Eve’s twin brother, Alex, was the first of the pair to be hauled unceremoniously through their mother’s emergency caesarian section incision as he was lying anteriorly when the decision to proceed urgently with the surgery was made. Eve, in a separate—and surprisingly, unruptured—amniotic sac of her own, followed a minute later.
The sense of separation that Eve felt as she developed in the womb—of being close to, but distinctly separated from, her twin—continued throughout her life. To Eve, other people and the outside world always felt a little distant, and just out of reach.
Eve was frequently told throughout her life that she was born with a silver spoon in her mouth. Not surprising, really, given her wealthy high-profile parents, Ken and Faye Abercrombie. Eve, however, always found this description to be both annoying and reductionist:
“Born with a silver spoon in my mouth! What does that even mean? Mummy and daddy are rich and successful, sure, but does that mean my life is all shiny and wonderful? No!! Far from it. From my perspective, all I see around me are people who are more attractive, more talented, happier, and getting more love and recognition than I am. I really wish that people could see how hard it is to be me sometimes.”
In fact, Eve was more likely to present the opposite view. That being born to wealthy high-profile parents offered no life advantage what-so-ever. She would even argue that it made her life more miserable. In truth, Eve would have been unhappy wherever she grew up—in poverty or in abundance—as it was simply part of her inherited nature to be melancholy. If she’d lived in the time of Hippocrates, Eve would have been diagnosed with an overabundance of the humour,melaina chole, black bile.
Eve found getting motivated to do anything challenging at the best of times, and self-doubt was a debilitating companion she carried with her through life.Alex, on the other hand, was upbeat, positive, full of drive and ambition, and constantly achieving whatever he put his mind to. He was enthusiastic, popular, and successful . . . all of which Eve found to be exceedingly annoying . . .
Alex and Eve were IVF babies, a test-tube ultimately being the required receptacle for Ken’s sperm to encounter Faye’s egg. Early on the twins had a third sibling, a sister—the third embryo implanted into Faye’s womb along with Alex and Eve—but she’d died at around six weeks gestation. Growing up Eve would sometimes feel a vague presence, like someone standing quietly in shadow, when no one was actually there. During a hypnotherapeutic regressionlater in her life, Eve reconnected with the consciousness of her lost sister, and the ghostly presence that’d persistently haunted her finally made sense. From then on Eve would feel sad every time she thought about her dead sister, especially as no one—except perhaps her mother, Faye, although she would never admit to it—even believed she’d ever existed.
Despite being fraternal twins, Alex and Eve maintained remarkably similar physical appearances throughout their early years. As babies, Faye would have to look twice—and sometimes even check which genitalia resided inside which diaper—to know if it was Alex or Eve who was crying for her attention. Even with the onset of puberty the twins continued to look eerily alike, and it was only Eve’s slightly longer hair and small budding breasts that clearly differentiated them.
The twins were similar in many ways, mostly physical, but they were opposites in many other ways, mostly temperamental. It was as if they were the left and right halves of something, like a pair of socks, or gloves. Alex inherited self-confidence, while Eve inherited self-doubt; Alex was up-beat, while Eve was moody; Alex was a high-achiever, while Eve could never quite finish anything.
Eve loved her twin brother unquestioningly, but he also infuriated her beyond measure. The thing she found most annoying about Alex was his capacity to be incredibly superficial: “I can’t believe you’re my twin sometimes, Alex. How is it that you can be so uninterested in anything important or deep, yet so obsessed with yourself?” Without Alex, however, Eve knew for sure that she wouldn’t be alive; Alex had saved Eve’s life—literally and metaphorically—many times over the years.
When they were small—around three or four—the twins would sometimes dress in each other's clothes and pretend to be the other for a day. They learned a lot about who each other was through the innocence of this childhood game. Eve realized how difficult and unnatural it was for her to act positive and out-going, and how allowing that much energy and aliveness in her body felt so foreign. Alex learned how people tended to ignore or feel sorry for Eve because she was so sad all the time, and how they tended not to engage with her because of her moodiness and negativity.
Eve wasn’t sure when her melancholic mood had started, or where it came from, but it felt like it had always been with her. It wasn’t like it came and went either; it was constant. She could be having the best time—screaming wildly with excitement on a rollercoaster, or roaring with laughter while watching the funniest movie—but Eve could always feel the sadness lurking just beneath the surface. It occurred to Eve that when she’d been made, an important piece—the happy piece—had been left out. Maybe it’s there, but it’s defective, or it’s been put in the wrong way, or something.
Apart from Alex, and perhaps Yantra—the twins live-in nanny when Alex and Eve were young—Eve could honestly say that no one in her life, Ken and Faye included, truly saw her, or knew who she really was. Not all the way. This realisation fully landed for Eve when she was about to turn fifteen, and it resulted in the developed an all-pervading sense of being unseen by the whole world. This made Eve feel even more like she didn’t belong anywhere, and that she didn’t matter. It also brought up some deep existential questions for Eve: Why is everyone, including myself, so self-centred? Why is there so much pain and suffering in the world? What's the point of life? Why should I keep on living at all?
When Eve's omnipresent moodiness started to take on a darker tone, Faye, worrying about her daughter's well-being, suggested that Eve see a psychologist to talk things over. Eve declined the offer . . .
Silver spoon or no, most of the twins' peers growing up were jealous of Alex and Eve Abercrombie, and their privileged lifestyle. Eve secretly loved living in their big penthouse apartment right in the middle of New Eden City. From her bedroom window Eve could look out over Central Park—her favourite place in the whole world—and the bustling, throbbing city that surrounded it. When the twins were small, Yantra would take them into the park every day of the year, no matter the weather: sunshine, cloud, wind, rain, hail, or snow.
Eve’s happiest memories from childhood were of playing in the snow in Central Park on sunny winter mornings. Overnight snowfalls would turn the normally dull winter landscape into a magical wonderland. When this was followed by a morning of sunshine and clear blue skies, the visual effect was stunning. Eve could vividly recall the routine of bundling up in her winter coat, fur hat with earflaps, scarf, gloves, and rain-boots, her body buzzing in anticipation. Once in the park, Eve would run screaming with excitement from snowdrift to snowdrift, and intermittently flop onto her back to make snow angels.
On these perfect mornings Eve would be filled with pure joy and wonder, and for a brief time her sadness was nowhere to be found. But the dusting of fresh snow that’d turned the park pristine and vibrant would only last for a few hours, before it all turned to slush, and Eve’s joyful mood would melt and fade along with the snow . . .
For their schooling, Alex and Eve attended The Dalton School: an exclusive co-ed private school across Central Park on the Upper East Side. Eve liked the concept of going to school because she really loved to learn, but she didn’t enjoy the actuality of being at school. The ever-present possibility of being the object of derision or bullying by other students meant that Eve suffered from almost constant anxiety throughout her twelve years at Dalton. Eve wasn’t actually bullied very often, because she kept herself well off the nerd radar that the tougher kids seemed to possess. Occasionally, however, Eve would slip out into view by doing too well on a test, or receiving an outstanding grade for a homework project, or saying something that showed how smart she actually was. It was there, under the direct scrutiny of her jealous peers, that it became apparent just how different—and from their perspective, how irritating—Eve was from them. She would then become the target of taunting and humiliation for a period. Eve could have been an outstanding student academically if she’d wanted to be, but she always made sure she was just a little behind the class leaders to avoid this type of attention.
Dalton had a well-rounded curriculum which included classes in the dramatic arts: music, singing, dance, and drama. Eve tried all of these in her early years, and fell in love with each of them in turn. It slowly became clear to Eve that she had a passion: theatre. The only problem was that Eve didn’t believe that she possessed any talent. Mostly Eve would sing to her hairbrush in the bathroom mirror, or dance with her reflection in the mirrors in the entrance hall of the Abercrombie’s apartment, but Eve was always careful to ensure that no one ever heard or saw her when doing so.
The year Eve turned twelve was the year she discovered Broadway. This momentous unveiling shifted Eve’s whole perception of the world, and for a while her life actually started to make sense. Here was an art form that expressed who she was—different, misunderstood, a misfit—yet somehow also celebrated these traits. Finally, Eve had found a place where she felt like she belonged.
Eve started attending Broadway shows whenever she could—mostly with Yantra, but occasionally with Ken and Faye—and each time she would come away from the theatre feeling excited, thrilled, alive. Eve especially loved shows that depicted a tragic heroine discovering her inner beauty despite her seeming outer imperfections and obstacles. Eve’s favourite musicals were the ones where a handsome prince would fall in love with an ordinary girl, and carry her away to his castle to live happily ever after. Of course, not all the Broadway musicals Eve saw contained this rather childish narrative, or were so predictable and formulaic, but in most there was a way that deep and often painful emotions were expressed openly on stage for all the world to see, but without any trace of shame about doing so. This felt so liberating for Eve; it gave her hope.
At school Eve tried out for roles in the musical theatre production that Dalton staged each year in the fall, but was always so nervous at the auditions that she failed, year after year, to be given any significant parts. Eve started taking private singing, dancing and acting classes—one benefit of having wealthy parents, she had to admit—and her skills improved significantly, but whenever Eve was up on stage, in the spotlight, her raging anxiety and self-doubt would re-surface, and she would give mediocre, uninspired performances. In the later years of high school Eve gave up auditioning entirely, stopped attending Broadway shows, and banished her passion to the trash bin of her life. You could say that Eve became a failed musical theatre performer even before she’d made her debut . . .
Under Faye’s attentive care, Alex and Eve wanted for nothing. The majority of the practical aspects of the twins’ upbringing were performed by Yantra—it was always Yantra who got up at 4am to give them a feed, or a reassuring cuddle—but the area where Faye particularly excelled was in making sure that the twins had everything they needed to succeed in life: a beautiful, comfortable, and safe home; abundant healthy, nutritious food; well-made, comfortable, and fashionable clothing; extra tuition to ensure excellent school grades; unlimited pocket money for the little extras they might desire. Faye wasn’t afraid of expressing her affection with her children, but the practical side of things was most definitely her forte.
Eve’s relationship with Faye when she was young was a positive one despite her pervasive negativity about almost everything else in her life. Eve would say that her mother was the kindest, most generous person she knew, and it was the truth. As Eve grew older, however, she started to find the way Faye acted with other people to feel more and more fake. Eve felt that Faye was trying too hard to make other people like her. Being overly positive and optimistic just to make other people feel better about themselves felt insincere to Eve, and when Faye was acting this way it could turn Eve’s mood negative very quickly. As Eve’s teenage years progressed her intolerance to Faye’s sycophantic behaviour increased. Luckily, by this time Faye was spending more of her time supporting her increasingly famous husband, and the twins didn’t get as much of Faye’s personal attention as they did when they were younger.
Eve’s relationship with her father, on the other hand, was much less well developed as Ken simply wasn’t around that much when the twins were little. Eve had vague memories from early childhood of a tall, shadowy figure—often smelling of cigarettes, alcohol, or unfamiliar perfume—sneaking into the twins’ room late at night, well after they’d gone to sleep. Ken would give both Alex and Eve a gentle good-night kiss, then sometimes he would sit quietly on the end of Eve’s bed staring at her for the longest time. Ken didn’t know it, but Eve always knew he was there. She loved it when he sat looking at her in the dark; her heart would swell, and throb pleasantly, and sometimes it felt so good she thought her heart was going to burst out of her chest.
If Ken was at home in the morning after Eve had gotten out of bed, he was either on the phone, or distracted by some work issue or another; it was really impossible for Eve to gain his full attention at that time of day. Weekends were usually full of political rallies and fundraisers, and Ken and Faye were often away from home then too—in the late '00s, Ken Abercrombie was a busy man, and one very much in demand by the public and the press. The few precious moments in childhood that Eve had alone with her father, when she had his full attention, were like shiny jewels on a string of otherwise dull and uninteresting stones. These times, when Ken would sit Eve on his knee, look directly into her eyes, flash one of his huge smiles, and tell her a story about his life—most of which Eve didn’t understand until she was much older, and Ken’s complicated life history started to make some sense to her—were the happiest, and most memorable, moments of her early life.
Faye insisted that the Abercrombie family take at least one holiday together every year. Eve never really understood why this was the case when she was young as these holidays were rarely enjoyable. They always seemed to involve a lot of traveling—usually to far-flung exotic locations—a lot of Ken getting drunk, and a lot of Faye and Ken arguing. Ken would then storm out of the hotel suite and not come back until the following morning, usually looking very seedy, and then proceed to lock himself in his room alone until the evening. It felt to Eve like she saw her father even less on these holidays than she did when they were at home. Still, despite his frequent absence, and his erratic displays of affection, Eve loved Ken with all her heart. More than she loved Faye, actually. She even loved her father more than she loved Yantra, and, at times, even more than Alex . . .
The year Eve finished high school, she didn’t feel that going straight on to college was the right move for her, so she asked Ken and Faye if she could take some time off and go traveling. The disappointed expression that flashed across Faye’s face was quickly disguised, and they both got fully behind the idea.
Alex, who much like his father was driven to be successful as quickly as possible, had decided that he would go straight on to a pre-med degree at Stanford, so he was going to be out of Eve’s life for the first time that year anyway. It was natural that Yantra would accompany Eve on her travels to look after her, which suited Eve fine. By this time Yantra was very practiced at giving Eve the support she needed when she needed it, but also knowing when to give her space when that was what was required.
Having given up on her early passion of performing, one possible plan for Eve’s future was for her to study art history, and to become involved in the art world in some role. Eve didn’t appear to have any particular talent as an artist herself, but there was a way that beautiful art and objects made her feel truly inspired. Eve agreed with Faye that it could well be an appropriate field on which to put the focus of her future work life. To this end it was decided that Eve should spend time touring Europe, visiting the major art museums and galleries there, and taking some art history courses in a casual, relaxed fashion.
The first country they visited was Italy. Roma, Firenza, Milano, Venezia; Eve loved them all. Everything about the Italian culture seemed so much more refined than the crassness of New Eden and America, and Eve found it fascinating to dive into this new cultural experience.
It was in Italy that it first became apparent to both Eve and Yantra that European men looked at Eve in a certain way. Initially Eve wasn’t sure why the men were looking at her at all, and she felt uneasy about it, but when the attention continued unabated she started to feel good about herself for the first time in years. It was like these men were seeing the inherent beauty in Eve, and not the ugliness that Eve herself focused on. At first Yantra would have to point out their interest to Eve because generally she didn’t notice it herself. Yantra also pointed out that most of the men were indicating that they wanted to get to know Eve more intimately. At only seventeen years of age, Eve wasn’t yet ready for the leap into womanhood that an affair with an older continental gentleman would have required, but the idea of it stirred intense feelings that she hadn’t experienced before, and they felt good in an unfamiliar yet pleasurable way.
What arose for Eve from these encounters in Italy was the kernel of an idea. If the right man is able to see me for who I truly am, if he’s able to see through my ugliness to the goodness of my innermost being, and if he is attracted to me enough to want to get to know me that deeply, then perhaps that man could love me enough to enable me to truly love myself also. The way this idea formulated in Eve’s mind was all very complicated, but when she really allowed herself to open to it, it felt exhilarating . . . and completely terrifying.
Also while Eve and Yantra were in Italy, Eve discovered her new passion: shopping. Shoes, dresses, coats, hats, scarves, sunglasses; the Italian style really seemed to suit Eve. Their luggage quickly grew, and Eve started leaving bags of her old clothes on the street next to homeless women and children. In retrospect, she saw it was as if she was shedding her New Eden childhood on the cobblestones of these romantic Italian cities, and along with it her shroud of sadness. Slowly but surely a more beautiful and confident version of Eve started to peek its head out to greet the world. Hope started to surface in Eve, and one day she even caught herself smiling for absolutely no reason what-so-ever.
From Venice, their itinerary took them by train through the Alps to Zurich. Eve found Switzerland to be geographically beautiful, but the people seemed cold and aloof to her. She and Yantra both felt unwelcome, so they kept moving. Next, they headed to Paris where they rented an apartment in Saint Germain. Eve discovered that she loved the Bohemian feel of this part of Paris—rive gauche, the left bank of the Seine—with its atmospheric and historic café’s and bookstores, broad angled avenues, and narrow rambling alleys.
“Ah Paris, je t’aime. If I was a city, it would be Paris. Sophisticated, stylish, intriguing,” Eve declared to Yantra one day as they sipped Pastis, and took in the world rushing past Eve’s favourite café, Les Deux Maggots. In Paris, Eve found there was a fascinating slice of life to be discovered on every street corner. All she wanted to do was walk, and walk, and walk, and watch les Parisiens. Everything about them fascinated her. How they dressed; how they walked; how they interacted with one another; the air of confidence and arrogance they exuded; the slight tinge of sadness she could spy lurking beneath their brusque façades . . . everything. Eve felt that if she could just discover what it was that inspired the confidence the Parisians possessed, she might be able to acquire a little of it for herself.
They visited all the major museums--Musée du Louvre, Musée D’Orsay, Musée Picasso, Musée Rodin—all of which she loved, but Eve particularly delighted in seeking out the smaller, more boutique museums and galleries. Her favourite was the Musée de la Vie Romantiquein Pigalle, where echoes of the romantic poets, writers, musicians, and painters lingered in the air. She also loved the atmosphere of Musée de Montmartrewith its connection to the colourful history of the surrounding neighbourhood, and Musée Carnavale, with its many portraits of Parisians, displaying in abundance their noble Gallic features, as well as the joie-de-vivre that Paris has inspired for so many centuries. It was in these museums that Eve discovered the true heart of the romantic artistic life of Paris. She spent hours gazing into the eyes and faces of the portraits, connecting with them in a deep way. Seeing self-portraits of some of the artists themselves was like looking into a mirror for Eve—sadness, insecurity, self-doubt, romantic longing, and tragedy gazing out at her from eras past. There she was, Eve and her sad eyes, looking out of the face of a long-dead painter, captured on canvas for posterity.
Eve’s shopping exploits were taken to a whole new level in Paris; it became her obsession. Having spent quite some time now observing how Italian and French women dressed, and how they so carefully put their outfits together, Eve had started to find she could select the perfect items of clothing and accessories that would add to, and enhance, the unique personal style that she was rapidly developing. Galeries Lafayette was Eve’s favourite destination to fulfil her steadily growing shopping addiction. Galeries Lafayette was also the location of the incident that would traumatize Eve more deeply than any other in her life to date, and which would change her life forever . . .
Paris in the autumn of 2014 was delightful: sunny, warm, optimistic. Everyone held their breath in anticipation of the onset of winter, unable to quite believe their luck as one perfect-weather day followed another. By mid-November the Galeries Lafayette flagship store—nestled behind the grandeur of the Palais Garnier of the Paris Opera—was exuberantly adorned in its Christmas finery. The energy of the location was exhilarating for shoppers and voyeurs alike, and navigating the crowded sidewalks was hazardous, to say the least.
Eve and Yantra arrived early for this particular day’s shopping outing, browsing their way through multiple levels of the store. By noon Eve’s purchases were weighing heavily on Yantra’s strong and capable arms, and Eve was carrying half a dozen bags herself. They stopped for their obligatory chocolat chaud and patisseries at Café Angelina, and then set out to return to their apartment at around 1pm. As they made their way to the store’s exit on Chausée D’Antin Lafayette, Eve’s phone beeped. She pulled it deftly from her jeans pocket, and was delighted to find a message from Alex; it’d been more than two weeks since their last communication, and she missed having his optimistic energy in her life. Included with the short message was a picture of Alex being made to look a complete fool by his new fraternity brothers at Stanford. Alex was dressed in some kind of horse or donkey costume, and everyone in the picture was clearly inebriated or already passed out; jugs of beer and bottles of alcohol were strewn all around them. Eve couldn’t quite believe that her high-achieving twin brother had turned into a drunken buffoon in only a matter of weeks.
As Eve pushed the door of the store open she was laughing loudly, and she turned to Yantra to show her Alex’s picture. Little did Eve know that the footpath outside this particular entrance of Galeries Lafayette was very narrow, and as she exited she bumped heavily into a man who was walking up the street from the nearby Metro station. Eve didn’t see him at all, and in her exuberance accidentally knocked him off the sidewalk and into the street . . . and directly into the path of an on-coming bus.
The driver of the bus, who was accelerating to get through the changing traffic light at the adjacent intersection, stamped on his brakes and a deafening squeal filled the narrow street. A woman screamed. Then another. A loud thump, a thud, then . . . quiet. Eve stared intently into Yantra’s horrified face, scanning it for some indication of the outcome of what had just transpired; Eve’s herself had frozen, and she was unable to turn and look at the scene in the street just to her right.
Eve noticed that she was holding her breath, and that time seemed to have come to a standstill. All of a sudden, Yantra grabbed Eve roughly by the arm and started dragging her, weaving and side-stepping, through the gathering crowd of pedestrians and voyeurs on the crowded sidewalk. A wave of intense emotion arose in Eve as she stumbled along behind Yantra, and she started to cry, silently at first, then openly sobbing.
“No, Yantra. We have to go back and see if he’s OK,” Eve finally managed to say through her tears, attempting to halt Yantra’s forward momentum. But on this occasion Yantra was not prepared to listen to Eve’s direction. She knew what she intended to do, and she was going to do it, no matter what.
Moments later they arrived at a quieter intersection, where Yantra waved down a passing taxi, and they sped away for the accident scene. Unaware of the fate of the man she’d accidentally knocked into the path of an oncoming bus, Eve sat motionless, staring wide-eyed out the cab window at the blurry world passing by. Playing over and over on the screen of her inner vision was the scene she’d glimpsed when she glanced back as they fled the scene: a middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair and a goatee beard, his shattered spectacles lying next to him on the road, his body twisted and unmoving, and a pool of dark blood a vermillion halo around his head . . .
Eve scoured the news sites, both local and international, in the days that followed, but there was no mention of the incident. Was that a good sign? Maybe. But not knowing started to eat away at Eve, and she became irritable and grouchy. She couldn’t sleep, and wasn’t interested in doing anything except drinking coffee, gazing out the apartment window at the roof tops—the spires of Notre Damein the middle distance—and feeling increasingly sorry for herself.
Have I just been responsible for killing a man? A total stranger? Out of sheer selfishness and lack of awareness? What does that say about who I am? Am I some kind of monster? Do I deserve to be arrested, locked up, punished? Should I go to the police and give myself up? Maybe I should just end my life right now and save them all the trouble.
Yantra tried her best to cheer Eve up, and distract her from her dark thoughts, but there was nothing she could say that was even remotely helpful. After a week of her mood becoming darker and gloomier, Yantra sat Eve down and took hold of both her hands in a firm but loving way. She looked directly into Eve’s red swollen eyes, and said to her firmly that they had to call Ken and Faye, and tell them what had happened. Eve knew it was true, but she’d retreated so far inside herself that she was literally unable to speak; Yantra made the call.
There was no question, Eve and Yantra were to fly home immediately. Faye arranged the flights—first class—for the following morning, and she met them at the terminal gate at JFK. Faye wrapped Eve up in her capable arms, and didn’t let her go until they were safely home in the privacy of the Abercrombie’s Central Park West apartment. It was a great relief for Eve to be at home in familiar surroundings, but the dark cloud that had descended over her in Paris remained firmly in place.
Ken used his not inconsiderable diplomatic connections to make discrete inquiries about the incident in Paris, but he was unable to come up with any definitive news. Everyone—Ken, Faye, and Yantra—agreed that unless Eve was clearly implicated in causing significant harm to the man, then it was better to stay quiet about it. At this point, even if she had felt strong enough to stand up and confess to being the cause of the accident, Eve wouldn’t have been allowed to do so by her protective family. So as to avoid any possibility of accidentally disclosing details about what had occurred in Paris when out in public, they all agreed to refer to it simply as The Incident . . .
For the next few months Eve spent most of her time in bed; sleeping, dozing, fretting, worrying, staring at the ceiling, and reliving the incident over and over in her mind. She had no appetite, and her weight dropped precipitously. Faye would come every day and hand feed her a few mouthfuls of soup, or give her a calorie-rich drink, but Eve just couldn’t stomach anything. What little enjoyment Eve had previously gotten out of life had literally dried up and disappeared. Whereas before the incident life had felt difficult, tiring, a challenge, now it felt painful, pointless, a burden. Eve could not think of a single thing that made her feel hopeful about the future, and there was nothing that she wanted to do as everything she attempted felt dead and meaningless.
Faye took Eve to see a psychiatrist who tried to get Eve to tell her why she was so depressed, but Eve had nothing to say to her. She gave Eve pills to take every day, but they made her feel more dopey and drowsy. Eve only took a couple of them, then started to feign swallowing them when Faye brought them to her each morning, and Eve stored them in the back of her sock drawer for safe keeping.
As the start of the 2015 college year—and her eighteenth birthday—approached, Eve started to formulate a plan. She was feeling trapped, and she needed to get out of home, to get away from Faye and Ken, to get away from Yantra, to get away from everything that represented her life to this point. She also needed to find something to stimulate her mind and distract her in order to get away from the dark and depressive thoughts that had taken up residence there.
Eve applied for, and was accepted into, a fine arts degree at Trinity University in San Antonio, Texas. While Trinity was not a very high-profile school for the daughter of the future President of the United States of America to attend, Eve’s primary concern at that moment was not the university’s academic reputation as much as its geographic distance from both New Eden and Stanford. What had become clear to Eve was that she needed to be alone, anonymous, and not connected in any way to her family and everything that defined the person she’d been for the previous eighteen years; she needed a fresh start . . .
Eve’s decision to move to San Antonio was the perfect one. Faye was worried that running away from her troubles was not going to help the deep-seated emotional issues Eve was burdened with, but for Eve, to completely reinvent herself and leave her past behind was exactly what was needed.
The Eve Abercrombie who introduced herself to her fellow students and alumni at Trinity bore little resemblance to the person Eve had been previously. She was chirpy and positive; she became involved in clubs and campus activities; she volunteered for roles on committees; and she quickly became fully integrated into college life.
Am I running away from my past and not dealing with my problems? Probably. Is running away more effective than moping around at home, and seeing that useless psychiatrist? Most definitely, Eve justified. Will the unattended issues come back to haunt me later? Maybe, but right now I just don’t want to think about them.
Within a few weeks Eve had made three new friends—Amelia, Julie, and Justin—and the four were spending most of their free time together. It felt good to be accepted in this new environment for simply being herself, instead of being different and on the outside, or the daughter of minor celebrities, as she had always been in the past.
Only a matter of months into the school year Eve met a boy, Freddie, and they started dating. Because she wanted to fit in and be as normal as possible in her new life at Trinity, Eve had taken a job working in the college alumni social club three evenings each week. The work was mundane, and entailed distributing plates of food from the kitchen and drinks from the bar to the patrons, and collecting the empty plates and glasses. The atmosphere of the club was pleasant, intellectual, and Eve enjoyed the hours she spent working there.
Freddie Finnergan—a sophomore studying at Trinity for a degree in medical science—was from Omaha, Nebraska, and he worked behind the bar of the social club. Freddie was tall and solid, with shoulder-length dark brown hair, and a tattoo of a snail on the inside of his left forearm. Freddie tended to dress sloppily, and he wore unfortunate glasses that made him look somewhat like an owl, but it was Freddie’s demeanour—which was sweet, attentive, and pleasant to be around—that Eve was most drawn to. One evening in her second week working at the social club, Eve noticed Freddie’s gaze following her around the room. Eve felt uncomfortable being under this close scrutiny, so she stopped by the bar and casually asked Freddie if there was something he wanted to say to her:
“Ah, ah, ah . . . no. I’m sorry, Eve. I didn’t realize I was being so obvious. I guess I just like watching you. The way you move is so graceful.”
“Why that’s very sweet, Freddie. Thank you.” Eve felt a flutter in her belly, and she noticed she was blushing.
Slowly Eve and Freddie began spending more and more of their free time together, and one day Eve found herself day-dreaming about Freddie when he wasn’t with her. One evening as they walked home from work together, Freddie kissed Eve, and for the first time in her life Eve kissed someone back. Freddie was considerate of Eve’s desire to take things slowly, and he put no pressure on her to move into a sexual relationship the first year, but on the anniversary of their kiss they both agreed it was time.
Eve’s three years at Trinity flew by, and she was so happy having a gentle, kind boyfriend to share this time of her life with. She found herself fantasizing about marriage, picturing herself in a flowing white gown and veil, walking hand-in-hand down the steps of the palace . . . oops, I mean the steps of the church . . . with Freddie. Eve’s old, sad life in New Eden, and the incident, all seemed so long ago, and so far away. Eve even admitted to herself, finally, that she was actually happy.
As the spring of 2018 came around, with Freddie finishing his postgraduate year, and Eve coming to the end of her undergraduate degree at Trinity, a discussion about what was next for the couple became inevitable. At this point Freddie started to look uncomfortable. He squirmed in his seat and looked away as he told Eve that he was engaged to be married to his childhood sweetheart back in Omaha. The wedding was to take place in July. As he saw the shattered look on Eve’s face, Freddie went on to say, “I didn’t mean to become so involved with you Eve, it’s just that you’re so nice. I’m sorry.”
“Sorry! Sorry! Is that it? Sorry! After three years of lies. Sorry! Wow, what a fool I’ve been. How stupid am I? But that’s OK, Freddie Finnergan, I deserve it. Really, I do. It’s all my fault. Have a wonderful life, you bastard!!”
Eve ran to her room, threw herself onto her bed, buried her face in her pillow, and sobbed uncontrollably. All of her past demons instantly resurfaced as if they’d been waiting just in the background all along, and a heavy pall of darkness and gloom descended onto Eve once more. In the early hours of the following morning Eve made up her mind: it was time to be done with all this pain. She’d had enough of life, and death was the most attractive option left available to her.
Eve went quietly to her dresser and fished out the almost-full bottle of antidepressant tablets from their safe hiding place behind her underwear. She stood motionless, staring at the bottle in her hand for some minutes, then looked at herself in the mirror of the dresser in front of her. All she saw in the mirror was ugliness. The voices in her head only had confirming words to say, convincing Eve that she was hideous, rotten, and an unredeemable cretin. Eve sighed heavily, wiped the tears from her eyes, and walked slowly into the bathroom, locking the door behind her . . .
It was about three hours later that Eve’s roommate, Amelia, had attempted to open the bathroom door, realised there was a problem, and raised the alarm. The police arrived, followed shortly after by an ambulance crew, and the bathroom door was smashed open. Eve was unconscious . . . but she was alive.
Eve remained in a coma for three days, then slowly came around and back to reality. The doctors were concerned about permanent brain damage, but testing showed Eve to have been very lucky, and she seemed to have escaped without any demonstrable permanent brain injury.
Faye flew to San Antonio as soon as she heard of Eve’s suicide attempt, and two weeks later she accompanied Eve back to New Eden. Eve’s recovery was slow and painful, with Faye ensuring round-the-clock care and supervision for her. This time Eve’s daily mood-stabilising medication was given to her by a nurse who ensured the capsule was swallowed before leaving Eve’s room. Whether or not the medication was effective Eve couldn’t say, but over the months she did find herself starting to be happy that she was still alive, though there was no part of her that regretted her attempt at ending her life. In some morbid, masochistic way, having a suicide attempt as part of her life story acted as a confirmation to the world of how tragic her life truly was.
Once more the Abercrombie family made the decision to keep the details of Eve’s suicide attempt firmly a secret, especially from the press; Ken and Faye’s concern about any negative media attention by this time was at a very high level given that Ken would be running for the Partisan Party nomination for the 2020 presidential election cycle in a little over a year . . .
And so, Eve’s story now intersects with all the others: July 2020. Eve has taken up voice and dance classes again at Faye’s urging, and while she’s still quite sure she has no talent to speak of, on some level she is enjoying involving herself in her childhood passion of musical theatre once more.
Yantra is now working as the manager of The Dark Side—the BDSM cabaret owned and run by Ken’s mistress, Lobida—and at Yantra’s suggestion Eve has started working as a hostess at the club. Eve is finding that the excitement and intensity of venue is giving her more motivation to engage with life. In fact, Eve has agreed to sing at TDS tonight. She’s nervous, but also excited.
Ken Abercrombie has just been awarded the Partisan Party nomination for president, and despite the Partisan National Convention closing party still being underway at the Lincoln Centre, Ken has arrived at TDS to see Eve’s performing debut. Eve can’t quite believe that he’s actually there in person to see her . . .