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Chapter 11: Finale

Summary:

One and a half years later...

Notes:

Here we are! Thank you for sticking around this long <3

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The past year and a half hadn't been easy.

But it was easier than the months that preceded it.

So that was something.

The physical scars began to heal, to the point where nobody would notice the blisters, cuts, and burns from the spotlight accident still marring Evan's body unless they knew to look. There was no full healing — his twice-broken arm was crooked and left with a permanent dent, but the aching and scabbing was gone. He didn’t realize how much the acute strain of moving around and panicking with his injuries must’ve contributed to his awful mental state until they were gone.

Those scars, on the other hand, were far worse. People would note that he always looked terrified, his breathing always labored and his hands always shaking. Even when others stopped being hurt and he could finally rest easy knowing Connor's shadow had left his side for good, the experience had irreparably damaged him — witnessing everything he did would have already, but the guilt bearing on his shoulders of knowing it was all his doing made it even worse. Some of his classmates would give uncomfortable laughs as he'd suddenly look over his shoulder with wide eyes at nothing, but most knew better.

After he collapsed that fateful afternoon, he remembered waking up at home, Heidi standing over him as he poured out his soul to her — all he could manage, anyway. He didn’t think Heidi even got a word in edgewise, even when all his recollection amounted to was panicked half-uttered words, sobs, and apologies. It was better than nothing, though.

At least the Murphys were kind enough to bring him home, even when he ruined their lives almost singlehandedly and he wouldn’t have blamed them if they threw his unconscious body out into the street to get hit by a truck. That was the last time he saw them — he couldn't show his face near that house again, not after he'd burrowed his way in like a leech, and he stopped seeing Zoe at school. At first, he feared the worst, but then heard on the grapevine that she was being kept home following the incident.

That didn't surprise him, but it left him with an aching emptiness. He never got to answer her questions — how confused, scared, manipulated she must've felt to hear the truth — and he found by next week that he never would. The family was forced to move due to the harassment, going out of state and changing their names. Starting fresh, like Heidi always spoke of so fondly, but Evan imagined it was less of a chance to explore opportunities and more a painful last resort.

He should've reached out, but it was far too late. There was no way Zoe's phone number was the same, nor her social media. He never checked — his own phone went largely unused, due to the ever present fear that those shadowy eyes were watching from it somewhere.

The Connor Project was shut down the weekend of Zoe's attack — the weekend of the truth getting out. He remembered it clearly — the foggy afternoon, the now empty Murphy house just barely visible out the corner of the window. Evan was sitting up on the couch that had become his new bed in the wake of it all, as he could never feel truly safe in his room anymore, calling Alana, asking for her to come over. This wasn't a conversation for texts, that much he knew.

When she sat down beside him, all he could manage was a trembling, "You were right. About everything." He expected her to be furious, grab him, shake him, scream, but all she did was take off her glasses and slowly nod, likely having been waiting for this very outcome. The room was painfully quiet, Evan's anxiety not kicked into overdrive for once as he studied her expression. He felt relaxed, even, his shoulders slumped as he fidgeted with the edge of his sock. "Connor didn't write that note. I did. It was a, a therapy assignment, he took it from me, he..."

It was hard to explain, eyes fixed on the floor. For once, Alana said nothing, visibly searching for words for a few moments. "You... felt that way?" She finally asked. Evan just nodded. She frowned, glancing back away. "I'm sorry."

"Um. Don't be." He could barely imagine that first day of school now — a time when potentially getting embarrassed because of his letter was the worst-case scenario, a time when all he had to worry about with Jared was how he was making anxiety-inducing jokes, a time when Zoe only crossed his mind as a crush to hold onto when things became dire. Despite how lost and miserable he felt that day, strangely enough, it was a happier time.

"I. I don't think we can do the Connor Project anymore.” He admitted. It was what he really called her over for, but that made it no easier to say. Despite all the pain that goddamn blog had brought them, it was Alana’s pride and joy. "Not because of this, just..." He gestured with his head to the window, towards the Murphys' vacant house. "It’s... hurt too many people."

Glancing at Alana, she looked broken up, and he couldn't blame her, but she finally nodded. "I never thought it'd go this far. I wanted to do something good, but... your accident, and Jared, and everything, just..." She hugged herself, wiping her face with a sleeve. Evan always viewed the Connor Project through a somewhat detached, cynical lens. He was bitter from the very beginning, because he knew the truth and felt as if he was being strapped to a chair and forced to watch a car accident every time he updated it. But Alana didn't have that gift of knowledge — she believed wholeheartedly in what the blog was spreading, believed wholeheartedly up until the very end that her co-president was Connor's best friend. How much worse must it have been for her when she watched the trigger be pulled, or saw the threats lobbed the Murphys’ way?

"I-I—" Evan started, and he realized the second he did that what he was going to suggest would be stupid. "—you could... try again? A different project, maybe. You were, um. Really good at it." He felt a blend of relief and fear to be referring to the Connor Project in the past tense — the part of him that clung to the status quo, the part that lived in denial until he saw the only person who had ever managed to pull him out of that sea of misery bruised and broken before his very eyes, wanted it back immediately. There was almost safety in the tragedy — at least he didn't have to go to school, right? — but he knew the more he thought about it, the worse he'd feel.

Alana just sighed heavily. The taciturnity was unlike her, but he supposed it made sense. Throughout all of this, as much as it was painful to admit, her attempts to help had only caused more pain. Without her help, the Connor Project never would have even existed, which... wasn't the positive sentiment it should've been. "Maybe."

The last time they ever spoke was to co-write the final statement before the Connor Project blog was logged off of permanently, and it hurt. Alana was Evan's last friend, the only other kid he could confide in, but she didn't need any more reminders of all that had been broken. It wasn't her battle to fight — she deserved to move on, as much as Evan selfishly wanted someone to suffer with again.

And then came now. Having to repeat senior year didn't come as a surprise due to his god awful attendance record — even when the hospital time made it excusable. It was a relief, honestly — even amidst the odd looks as he was visibly older than the rest of his classmates — he didn't think he could manage struggling through his final year of high school with everything that happened on his back. Heidi knowing the full story — or at least all of it Evan could describe confidently, which... wasn't much — at least gave him a line of support. It took months of goading to make him get professional help, endlessly paranoid that a therapist could turn him over to the authorities, but the truth was that as much as he cared about Heidi, he couldn't rely on just her help. And Dr. Sherman, good as he was, was far less equipped to deal with the intricacies of Evan's new trauma than he was his everyday anxiety.

Slowly but surely, Evan relearned how to act like a person, which... admittedly, was something he struggled with even before all of this, but he was proud to find he could socialize enough to handle small chat as a furniture store cashier. Baby steps, Heidi always said — he still couldn't bear eye contact, his natural anxiety doubled by the association between staring and people he cared for being hurt — between Jared's expression during the suicide video and the empty eyes of Zoe as she staggered in bloodied that afternoon. They looked hollow and soulless, and even when he knew it was irrational and stupid, he couldn't look people in the eyes for that reason.

He thought about them more than he knew was healthy if he wanted to move on, but he felt as if he had to make up for his weeks of denial — for ever taking what he was seeing at face value. The language was hard to grow accustomed to, conditioned as he was to believe it was the most outlandish shit ever, but he remembered what Alana described as possession — Jared's dull eyes, robotic movements, out of character behavior, Zoe's inability to move as she was being beaten within inches of her life — and while the idea of anything supernatural there was still a hard pill to swallow, it still made his hair stand on end to think of them as mere passengers of their own bodies as they were forced into suffering by their own hands.

Unable to move, but able to think, hearing words coming from your mouth and your keyboard that you never wanted or intended...

Evan could relate to that, almost. He looked at the remains of the Connor Project and could never imagine wanting any of it.

He tried to push it all behind him, really, he did — Jared wouldn't want him spending forever in a rut, and Alana and Zoe were already moving on with their lives — but that proved difficult when he saw a reminder around every corner. On the worst days, all Evan saw when he looked at peoples' hands were the exposed bone and sinew slashed with razors on the Connor Project page. Those were the days his chest was tight with anxiety as he convinced himself Connor's shadow still crept over his shoulder — even when he turned to find nothing.

The monotony of work gave his mind room to wander, as much as it inevitably found terrible things when it did. He was jostled out of his spiral — thankfully, as he was beginning to fear he'd have to excuse himself to the bathroom to recollect for the second time that day — by the sight of a girl he needed to do a double take to properly absorb.

Fingers with chipped nail polish nervously tapped the handle of her shopping cart. The short dark brown hair wasn't familiar, and neither was the style of dress, but the tired hazel eyes were unmistakable — as was the crooked nose much like his crooked arm. He froze, unsure if he was seeing what he thought — and furthermore, mentally running through a million different potential scenarios if he was — when she glanced his way.

She looked like she was doing a double take, too. The girl froze, before hesitantly placing one foot after the other and walking over. Up close, it looked even more apparent — the familiar moles, pointed nose that ran in her family, the permanent little pout on her face — but he couldn't bring himself to say anything as she glanced aside.

"...hi." She finally managed, with nervousness Evan would associate more with himself than her. He just stared for a few seconds — she'd be used to the awkwardness, though, right?

"...a." Great start. "Are." He felt like a dumb kid again, trying to speak to her outside of that jazz band concert. He picked at his nails, stammering for a second longer before the words tumbled out all at once. "Are you the person I think you are because this'd be really awkward if you weren't."

A nervous chuckle escaped her lips, and she lightly shook her head. "No, no, it's me." Zoe — that probably wasn't even her name anymore, could he still call her that? — glanced behind her. "I'm not holding up a line, am I?" She asked as she set her things on the counter.

"No! No, not at all, I, um, I was just..." Shit, right, he had a job to do, and frantically began to scan her items like she was a regular customer and not Zoe fucking Murphy what the fuck. "Surprised? I thought you moved out of state, or something..."

Zoe's expression dropped a little. "I did, just..." With a touch of sorrow, she shifted her weight. "Paying a visit to Connor for his birthday and all."

Evan really just forgot cemeteries existed for a minute there, huh. Maybe he wasn't reintegrating into society as well as he thought. It was... startlingly, easy enough to forget who Connor really was. Evan knew him as that shadow on the wall that made his life a living hell, but to Zoe, he was the brother she had no choice but to mourn. "Oh..." He squeaked, having no clue how to really respond to that. "Right, right, 'course. I— I've never... visited him, personally, um..."

He trailed off, realizing he was taking this conversation in the worst direction imaginable and clearing his throat.

"...yeah. Your parents doing okay?"

Zoe sighed through her nose as Evan began to realize there weren't any really good directions to take it. "It's rough, but they're doing better."

He forced a chuckle, hoping it didn't sound like he was laughing at her. Then again, this was Zoe he was talking to, someone who always seemed to care for him, warts and all. Even now, after all he'd done to manipulate her and her family, she took the time to talk to him. The thought made him want to cry, but randomly crying was probably the worst thing to do in this situation.

"...look, I—" He began, cutting himself off as he wasn't actually sure where to start. "—I'm sorry. About everything, really, I know that sounds super guilt trippy and I know that doesn't make up for it, but I'm sorry, I just—"

"It's fine." She abruptly cut him off, before scrunching up her face as she backpedaled. "I mean, it's not." She motioned towards his... everything. "But you've gone through enough. You fucked up. Bad." He winced a little at that, even when he knew it to be fully true. It still hurt to hear from her. "But you didn't deserve all of that, either. I don't think anybody does."

"I... guess." He responded lamely. "I've been wanting to call, but... I — I didn't wanna..." Biting his inner cheek, he quickly diverted. "Didn't. Know if you wanted. And, I mean, you probably changed your number, 'cause of all of the..." Vague gesturing. "...that."

It was surreal. He never thought he'd be talking to Zoe again, and at a point, accepted that. But here this coincidence was — he thought acutely that the Alana from a year and a half ago would insist it to be some miracle of fate. Zoe sighed, running a hand through her hair — it was short now, almost like a boy's, but she still looked pretty, and — gah, why was he thinking about that right now?!

She crossed her arms, the striped blue cardigan she wore looking more like something Evan would see on Heidi than her. "Yeah. I've been wanting to, too, honestly." He blinked in surprise at that, though he supposed it made sense with all of the questions he'd been too hysterical that day to answer. "It's been... a really shitty year. For all of us, probably."

Her eyes were fixed on a point on the counter — he didn't know if she was just nervous, or if being rattled by everything gave her the same issues with eye contact that he had. "I know I should be angrier, but I think I had enough of that with Connor." She let out a sad little laugh, with no humor in it. It was a habit Evan recognized from her brother, and it made him freeze despite himself.

The two were silent for a moment, though he could tell she was mulling on something. Finally, Zoe let it out, sounding almost embarrassed. "...I... wanna keep in touch, if that's okay with you."

Hm?

Evan stopped. He took a moment to process.

"Are you coming onto me?"

The look of surprise and confusion of Zoe's face was both a relief and kind of heartbreaking. "Oh, God, no." It turned to laughter, and for a second Evan let himself laugh too, because it was a normal friend thing to laugh about but he could still barely process that he was talking so casually with Zoe Murphy. Her smile wavered, "I just need someone to talk to. Thought you might, too."

Pointing to himself and glancing over his shoulder in surprise, Evan felt a debilitating sense of deja vu. "Me?"

Zoe’s composure broke as she adjusted her cardigan, looking almost as if she wanted to hide in it. "It's fine, you don't— you don't have to, I just—"

"No!" His voice was too loud, too quick, but he couldn't let this interaction pass him by. He'd regret it forever if he did. Lowering his voice, he had to keep it level, not let his enthusiasm and surprise be so apparent. "No, I'd, I'd really like that."

"Oh!" Zoe sounded equally surprised. "Um. Cool." She laughed awkwardly as he rang up her items, and he watched her anxious swaying as he did. She was always so down-to-earth, he remembered, even throughout all the suffering. Popular and rich — or, well, was — but liked not for materialism or status, but because she was so nice that it was impossible to not like her. Observing her nervous tics — tapping her nails together, brushing a finger across her temple as if to tuck back hair that was no longer there — it pained Evan to think not only that someone wanted to hurt someone so good, but that they succeeded.

She took her receipt, plucking a pen from across the counter and scrawling out her phone number across the whole paper in familiar big, bold lettering. He wondered if that was something she and her brother always had in common, or if she'd picked it up after his death, smiling his first genuine smile in a while as the receipt was passed back to him.

Offering to help take her bags, she declined, and in moments, the encounter was over as she turned and left — to visit Connor, if she hadn't already. His impulsive side longed to follow, ask more, see if Larry and Cynthia were waiting there in the parking lot, but he had work to do, and she had places to be.

Evan glanced down to the receipt in his hand, and then around him for any odd shadows. None. He exhaled in relief, folding up the receipt and carefully tucking it away.

Thinking about what happened last year had always been hard, and something he preferred to avoid — even when the nightmares and irrational fears made it almost completely impossible, and he knew it'd be so much worse if he ever touched social media again to see his impact. But thinking about Zoe, he supposed it didn't all have to be something to avoid.

The gloomy weather out felt fitting, and he hoped the rain wouldn't be too inconvenient on the walk home. April showers brought May flowers though, didn't they? He glanced at his phone, the screen still cracked from fall after fall, the battery likely nearly dead with how little he used and charged it. Heidi called him, and so did his manager, sometimes. That was pretty much it, though his therapist would advise him that trying to hide from the reminders of the past would only make him more vulnerable to them.

Maybe he could visit Jared and Connor, like Zoe was doing. He never had, truthfully — the wounds were too fresh. Having to see Jared's gravestone would've been too much for him to handle, especially if he was to find it bare. The world thought of him as some deranged violent freak, and Evan was one of the only few who could confidently say he knew better. He wasn't the kind of guy to like getting flowers, but Evan could figure something out.

Maybe he could ask Alana. He wasn't sure if she still used the same phone number, but he could log in to Facebook to try and hunt her down. He didn't know if she'd even want that, but the worst thing that could happen was her saying no. That little bit of closure would probably make him feel better anyway. They could schedule something — like those evening hangouts they had last year, except without the stress of the Connor Project hanging over their heads.

That would be nice.

Notes:

And that's it! That's I'm Here! I seriously can't overstate how much it's meant to me that people got invested in this fic, it's the longest thing I've ever written and so not my usual kind of writing (...format wise, anyway, all of my fics are pretty grim and edgy lol) but seeing people leave comments and talk about it and leave kudos and hits has just made me SO happy!!! I reread every comment obsessively, they warm my heart. It's been a very very fun two weeks!

As a treat, I've made little reference images for the cast of this fic, for fanart purposes (if you draw fanart i WILL cry) or just for imagination purposes: https://bandtrees.tumblr.com/post/623455201708425216/to-celebrate-finishing-im-here-my-deh-horror

Thanks again for sticking around! Like I said I definitely wanna do more with this AU (even if probably not fics as I think this is decently self-contained) so it won't be the end, but still, it's been a ton of fun <3 Very creepy fun.

And a hello to anyone who's just read it in one sitting, go get some water or snacks or something. XD