The Beautiful People - Elizabeth

2019

There are two peaches on the table, doing a slow dance, with their small stick-figure arms wrapped around one another.Their feet are moving out of tune with the rock music drifting from the speakers, but it doesn't bother them. It just seems a little off, but Elizabeth still feels joy in watching them, and so does Matthew, who is enthralled by their tiny fingers intertwined with one another.

"Liam, have you seen this?" he whispers, his green, catlike eyes hefted to the dancing fruit.

He slowly lifts a finger, possibly to poke at the peaches, then sides against it, letting it retreat to its former position on the coffee table.

Liam barely acknowledges Matthew; too focused on rolling up joints for him to sell later. His key clientele is high school and college kids smoking weed for the first time, with little to no idea of how to roll a proper joint, and he finds it reasonable to overprice his commodity that way, because he really does all the work for them.

Elizabeth starts giggling at Matthew, as he again lifts a finger, caught in a state between itching to touch the fruit, and not wanting to disturb them in their dancing. She makes them stop, turn toward him, and do a little bow, finally allowing him to interact with them in a proper manner. He brushes a finger across one of them, and it lets out a small, bashful purr.

"Oh my god, this peach is the fuzziest thing I have ever felt!" he exclaims.

"Yeah, I found the best ones in the store, just for you," Elizabeth says, smiling at him.

"Does that mean you touched all the peaches?" his eyes widen with intrigue; a serious question coming from him.

Obviously, Elizabeth didn't touch every single peach piled up at the grocery store, but she still nods, because she knows it will make him happy. Matthew and Elizabeth's powers have always been the perfect combo, him being so high on heroin that he gets fascinated by just about everything, and Elizabeth being able to do little magic tricks like this. Bringing inanimate objects to life is her specialty, and he never seems to grow tired of it, just like she never grows tired of his enthusiasm.

"Matthew, go fetch me another pack of cigarettes in the kitchen," Liam says, without taking his eyes off the mixture of tobacco and tiny green leaves.

Matthew gets up with a disgruntled huff, moving slowly toward the kitchen.

"You know smoking is really bad for you," Matthew points out.

"While heroin is such a healthy diet," Liam comments, rolling his eyes.

"Well while you die a long horrible death of lung cancer-" Matthew starts.

"You will have been dead for fifty years from an OD," Liam cuts him off, waving a hand dismissively. "Now go get me those damn cigarettes already."

Elizabeth can't help but laugh a little at the two of them. "You know, if it wasn't for you dating my brother," she says, giving Liam a wink,"I'd totally be routing for the two of you."

"And I would rather be the one to die first, than date Matthew," Liam states, in a matter-of-fact tone.

Matthew narrows his eyes at him, and tries to cross his skinny arms, but loses balance, and settles for just holding on to the door frame. "You should be so lucky."

"Matthew, cigarettes, now."

"Oh alright, alright," he mumbles, carefully moving into the kitchen as if he's afraid to topple over. It takes two whole minutes for him to reappear, a pack of cigarettes in hand.

"Here you go, enjoy chemotherapy," he grumbles, returning to the edge of the couch where he can see the scattered pieces of fruit Elizabeth brought. He's eyeing a pear and shoots her a pleading look. "You know, that one hasn't danced at all tonight."

Smiling she lifts her hand, blue light escaping from it, like a thin curtain billowing in a breeze. The pear grows arms and legs, but as it has a hard time getting up from the table, Matthew carefully reaches out and helps it to its feet, lending it a finger for support. It bows to him, then starts doing a jaunty little tap dance, to no particular tune. Snapping her fingers, Elizabeth produces a little top hat and a cane for its act, and the pear twirls both of them with great success. Matthew claps his hands, both happily fascinated and satisfied.

The doorbell rings, and Elizabeth pushes herself up off the floor to go open; a much quicker option than letting Matthew do it. Liam gives her a thankful look, as she moves through the meticulously clean apartment. Sometimes she wonders how Liam manages to keep it so neat, with all of his weird, drugged-up friends stopping by, but then she remembers how he snaps at Matthew to use a coaster, and figures he's probably like that with everyone.

She unlocks and opens the front door, and in the hallway stands her brother, looking not too pleased to see her there.

"Hey Ethan!" she chirps, maybe a little too enthusiastically. He doesn't much like her hanging out with Liam and Matthew, especially if he's not around to keep a close eye on what goes on while she's there.

"Izzy, shouldn't you be at home? Doing homework?" he says pointedly, eyebrows raised to indicate that yes she should indeed.

"Oh come on," she whines, "I've only been here half an hour!"

He sighs and moves past her into the living room, where Liam is still busy with his work. The pear has fallen over, missing Elizabeth's attention has turned it back into a regular pear, and Matthew looks sorely disappointed.

"So, working on premade joints while my sixteen-year-old sister is here, I see," Ethan says displeased.

"Oh, hey honey," Liam says, quickly getting off the couch and moving himself to kiss his boyfriend. He's almost a foot shorter than Ethan and has to grab a hold of his neck to guide his lips down toward his own. Ethan melts into the kiss, and somehow clearly manages to forget all about everything that was bothering him two seconds ago. "How was your day?"

Ethan rubs his temples, looking weary. "Practice was difficult. My elbow is still acting up and I feel like I can't keep up with the rest of the team."

It's been three months since Ethan fell on the basketball court, hard enough to get a small fracture in the bone. He's been struggling ever since, and his general mood definitely shows it.

The two of them continue kissing, and Ethan waves a hand dismissively at both his sister and Matthew.

"Okay, kids, time to go home," he says, barely moving his lips away from Liam's.

Elizabeth knows what that means, and even if she doesn't feel like going home, it is much preferable to listen to her brother having sex.

"You know I don't really have a home these days," Matthew points out, clearly more for argument's sake.

"Then anywhere else but here," Ethan says, narrowing his eyes at the small blond.

Matthew huffs and wobbly gets off the couch. "Oh alright, fine."

They exit the apartment together, and Elizabeth gives Matthew a hug before leaving him on the street, to go do her dreaded homework. She wishes she could bring him along, or at the very least knew that he has somewhere warm and comfortable he can go, but she can't and she doesn't. She has no idea where Matthew sleeps these days, it could be on a comfortable couch at a friend's house, or on the cold streets with nothing but his coat to cover him up. He never tells, and she can't exactly bring him home to her parents' house. They would more likely than not forbid her to see the skinny junkie ever again, regardless of him being a friend of Liam. Already they are on edge about her hanging out with Liam, based solely on his line of work. Elizabeth finds it unfair; so what if he's a pusher, he's still a good person. The same can be said about Matthew, if not even more so. He might be a junkie, but he's such a sweet guy, and he never hurts anyone but himself.

Glancing over her shoulder she sees Matthew turn a corner further down the street. She sighs, pulls her jacket a little tighter around her to shield herself from the wind, and resumes her walk home.



2022

The hallways of school have grown quiet when she gets there, classes are already in progress, and she is uncomfortably late.She overslept, ironically due to sleep deprivation. She's barely had a decent night's sleep since she got into art school, and it's starting to show, both physically and mentally. She has dark rims underneath her eyes, and she almost always feels weak and exhausted, as if something far too heavy is resting on her shoulders, making her tense and on edge.

Rushing down the hallways, her curly, red hair looks more like a bird's nest than usual. She manages to tie it up in a bun as she scrambles along, trying to find the right classroom. The semester has only just begun, and she still hasn't figured out exactly where she needs to be at any given time.

When she finally locates the door marked 'Photography A2', she hesitates to knock on the massive oak door. She's already an outsider, being Evolved and all, does she really have to be the Evolved kid who also shows up late? And which is worse, showing up late, or not at all? Finally, she budges and knocks on the door so quietly, it might not be loud enough for anyone to hear inside. When the door is opened, a tall, disgruntled man with a large mustache is staring down at her.

"You're late," he states, his tone grumpy.

"I'm so sorry, I couldn't find the right classroom and-"

He cuts her off, waving his hand at her to get inside. "Just sit down and be quiet."

Blushing, she finds her way to an empty seat to settle in with her computer. The lecture is about digital enhancements, and how to add extra light and shade where needed, without overdoing it.

"You don't want to end up with skin looking like marzipan," the teacher admonishes dryly. "You need it to look like the real thing, only in better lighting."

It sounds like an easy task, but that's not necessarily true. It's so easy to dive into the land of over-editing, and finding one's way back to something that looks realistic, can be a hassle.

"Layers and backups, people, that's what I want to see from you this entire class. I want to see the development process, not just the finished work."

The lecture continues for another 45 minutes before the teacher finally finishes off by giving them an assignment.

"I want you to start off with black and white photography. Go somewhere that is special to you, and take some pictures of people. If you can't find a suited model yourself, you'll just have to ask a classmate to work with you."

Easier said than done, she thinks, as she puts her stuff back into her bag. She has no friends at school whatsoever, in spite of it being her second year there. She does know a suited place though, and usually there are people around, that might be willing to let her snap a few pictures of them. Grabbing her bag off the table, she swings it up on one shoulder. No one says anything to her, no one ever does, it'sas if she's just a shadow hovering around the hallways, completely incapable of communicating with the rest of the world.

"Elizabeth?" the teacher calls out after her, and he might just be the first one to say her name at school at all.

"Yes?"

"Don't be late again, or you will find a locked door."

"Right, of course, sorry," she stammers.

"Good, now run along. You have an assignment, and I expect to see great works of art."

She's not entirely sure if he means from her specifically or in general, but she figures it's probably the latter. Still, she nods enthusiastically, before finally leaving, setting off towards the one place she knows, that might just work for art.

***

The abandoned house itself is quite a masterpiece, in the sense that it must have looked amazing in its heyday. It's big, build entirely of wood, and painted a nice gray with just a hint of lavender. With its elegant trimmings and carved-out details, it has an expensive look and feel.

Or at least that's how it once must have looked, now, however, it's in shambles. With its broken windows, a front door hanging slightly ajar on rusty hinges, and graffiti sprayed on almost every surface, it's hard to tell when it was last seen in prime condition. There's an overgrown backyard, with an enormous maple tree, and what were probably neat flowerbeds, once upon a time.

Most people stay away from it, either because they think it's haunted, or because they see it as an actual hazard to their health. It probably is, but still Elizabeth passes through the overgrown bushes in front and knocks the creaky door lightly. There's a door she is not afraid of because she has never been anything but welcome inside.

"Door's open," a sleepy voice calls from inside. "It always is."

She enters slowly, keeping an eye out for broken glass and old scraps of metal, which always seem to appear.

"Matthew?" she calls out, hoping he's not too far off to have a normal conversation.

"Izzy? Is that you?" he calls back, his voice coming from what was probably once the living room.

"Yeah, it's me," Elizabeth smiles, as she enters. He's lying on an old, ratty couch, that might just have been the color of cream once, but is now more stains than anything else. He's got a bunch of blankets piled on top of him, some of which slide to the floor, as he pushes himself up on one elbow. He waves at her, then digs in between the cushions to produce a bottle of whiskey.

"Fancy a drink?" he grins, before taking a big swig straight out of the bottle.

"No thank you," she says, as she sits down in an equally old and battered armchair. There are more blankets piled over its back, ones that could definitely use a washing, but instead of pointing that out, she focuses on the skinny guy, struggling to push himself up into a seated position. "I do need a favor, though."

"Yeah? What kind of favor?" he asks, narrowing his cat-green eyes at her.

"I need to take some photos for school, and I was thinking maybe this place would serve the project well," she says, giving him her best puppy-dog eyes.

"But of course! And you're in luck, there's a party tonight," he beams with great pride, as if he's the one in charge of it. "I'm sure people won't mind you taking a few pictures."

"That sounds awesome!" she says, sounding just as excited as she feels. This could be something really good, something with an edge and a meaning. The entire setting is like a punk-rock dream, and coupled with Matthew's drug-loving friends and acquaintances, it'll be perfect for some gritty black-and-white shots.

Maybe it can even make up for me being late, she ponders, hoping dearly she's right.

***

She ends up sticking around at the abandoned house until the party starts, just talking to Matthew and showing him little tricks. Finding a small book of matches, she places them one by one, in an upright position. Then, with a snap of her fingers, they all light up at the same time. They grow arms and legs, and begin to move around in perfectly synchronized patterns. Acting like gymnasts, they jump on top of one another, balancing precariously, before eventually burning out entirely. Matthew is completely enthralled by the spectacle and begs her to do it again. Not until Elizabeth runs out of matches, does he allow her to stop.

Afterward, she tries to clean up the place a little, but that is almost a hopeless task. She manages to get rid of several bags of trash, most of it empty candy wrappers for some reason; and a lot of empty bottles and cans from prior parties. She also folds up blankets and stray pieces of clothing, but that's about it. It's getting dark outside, and with no functioning electricity, it's almost impossible to find one's way around the house.

"Matthew, could you maybe get some light going?" she asks, and he happily complies.

He puts the palms of his hands against one another, rubbing them together with a content smile on his face. Instantly a small ball of light starts to form, and when he pulls back, it floats into the air, finding rest in a corner. He continues doing this for ten minutes or so, before the entire room is bathed in soft, golden light.

In the span of an hour, the house feels packed with people. Some Elizabeth knows, but most of them she doesn't, and she finds herself tucked away in the armchair, trying to figure out who to take pictures of. She's so caught up in finding subjects, that she barely notices it when a woman flops down beside her, sitting on the armrest of the chair. She's got an androgynous look, with short, blond hair, cargo pants, and a vest on top of a t-shirt.

"Hey there," she says, reaching out a hand to greet her. "I don't think we've met?"

"I don't think so either," Elizabeth answers. "I'm Elizabeth. Or Izzy, either is fine by me."

"Paisley," she says. In shaking her hand, Elizabeth notices it to be so cold, she must be freezing. "So, what are you doing here?"

"Uhm, well, I'm actually here to take a few pictures for school."

"Yeah? What kind of school?"

"Art school, I'm studying photography."

"That's cool, do you like it there?" Paisley asks, tilting her head slightly.

Elizabeth is not entirely sure how to respond. She likes the classes, and she likes the prospect of becoming a photographer, but at the same time, she always feels lost and alone, not to mention tired from long, restless nights of not sleeping and the overshadowing stress and fear, of not being good enough.

"Sometimes," she settles on, with a light shrug.

"Let me guess, they don't much like the Evolved there either?" Paisley suggests, with a wry smile.

"How did you know I was Evolved?" she's not playing around with her powers right now, if anything, she should look quite normal.

"Just a hunch," Paisley smiles, in a way that makes it seem like she has a secret.

"Oh, well, you're right, they don't," Elizabeth says, bowing her head a little. "If anything, I think they all think I'm cheating."

"How so?" Paisley sounds genuinely interested.

"Well, like, that I'm using my powers to get better shots or something like that. I don't know, it's just a feeling I guess."

"And would that be so bad? Using your powers, I mean?"

"Well, it would be kind of like cheating... Right?"

Paisley mulls it over for a while. "You know... I used to play basketball with this guy, he must've been close to seven feet tall, and I'm 5'7". Now obviously he could outrun me any day of the week, not to mention how easy it was for him to score points, compared to me. He had a clear advantage in every way, but should that have kept either of us from playing? Should I back out, just because he's tall as hell? Or should he have taken some deranged pity on me, and not played like a pro?"

Elizabeth says nothing, waiting for Paisley to answer her own question. She does, by saying, "Hell no! Everybody's got some advantage over someone else at something. Small people can get into cramped spaces, tall people can reach the top shelf, shit like that. Using your powers doesn't make you a cheater. It makes you smart."

Elizabeth nods, then realizes something. "You know, it kind of sounds like you've played with my brother. Ethan Adams? Super tall, red hair like mine?"

"Maybe," she shrugs lightly. "But I don't remember all that much from before I died."

"Wait, what?!" Elizabeth exclaims.

"Yeah, girl, you're talking to a ghost," Paisley smirks at her. "That's how I knew you were Evolved. Nobody else can see me."

She doesn't seem upset about it, but Elizabeth can't stop herself from staring at her. Looking closer, she can see the hint of the armrest Paisley is sitting on, the blankets behind her, one of Matthew's glowing orbs, the light filtering right through her. It suddenly seems quite obvious that she's not all physically there, not the same way Elizabeth herself is. She can't help but wonder what regular people see when she's talking to her. If they see her as a crazy person, or someone high as hell, having a conversation with thin air.

"I... I can't believe I didn't notice," Elizabeth stammers, unsure as to what's the right thing to say. She doesn't want to offend Paisley, but has no idea what the protocol is, for talking with ghosts.

"My guess is that you're really tired. You sure look it."

"Yeah, I haven't gotten much sleep lately," she admits, "and my doctor won't prescribe any sleeping pills for me."

"Have you tried talking to Matthew about it?" Paisley suggests.

"Why, to get some heroin?" Elizabeth's eyes widen at the sheer thought of it.

"No, dummy, we don't need more ghosts hanging around this place," Paisley scoffs, waving her hand dismissively. "But Matthew knows everybody, he can get you some sleeping pills in no time."

"I guess it can't hurt to ask..." she trails off, she hadn't really seen that as an option; asking a friend for help.

Elizabeth gets up from the chair, scanning the room for Matthew. She spots him lying on the couch, holding a liquor bottle in one hand, and a joint in the other, looking thoroughly content. She smiles at the imagery, pulls out her camera, and snaps a picture of him when no one is looking. She should probably be asking for permission, but she knows it would ruin the picture completely if anybody knew she was taking it. Instead, she snaps a few more of the guests without them noticing.

It's a mixed bag of guests: some people look just as homeless as Matthew does; some are teenagers, probably at their first party ever; some are hipsters her own age; some a lot older. There's even a guy wearing a suit, who doesn't look like he belongs, and she takes his photo as he sips a beer. After a few more pictures, Elizabeth moves herself to the couch and slumps down beside Matthew.

"Hey Izzy," he says, his eyes glazed over and red from all the weed, and whatever else he might have taken. "Are you having fun?"

"Yeah, yeah, I've been talking to Paisley," she nods, looking across her shoulder to see if Paisley is still there. She is, and she gives her two thumbs up as if to convey that Elizabeth can do it.

"She's here? Good for her, she usually just hangs out in the attic, like a proper ghost," he smiles broadly, a smile that soon breaks into a fit of pot-induced laughter. It's infectious, and Elizabeth ends up giggling with him on the couch. He grabs onto a blanket, and wraps it around his shoulders, curling up underneath it like a cat.

"Matthew?" she says, trying to get his attention before he dozes off. "Matthew, I need a favor."

"Eh? From me?" he asks, lifting his head slightly. "I'm intrigued!"

"Well, it's just... I've been having real trouble sleeping lately. Like, a lot. I've tried talking to my doctor, but you know how they can be..." she says, trailing off with a light shrug.
"Oh yeah, they won't give me nothing no more," he sulks. "You misplace a few hundred Benzos, and suddenly you're 'unreliable' and 'untrustworthy'," he continues to complain, making little air quotes with his thin fingers. "It's really rather unfair, you know."

She decides not to comment on it, given the fact that he clearly didn't lose anything, as much as just took all of them in record time to get high.

"Yeah, so I was thinking maybe you could help me out? Get me a few sleeping pills? Nothing big or anything!"

He eyes her suspiciously. "Why don't you just ask Liam?"

"Because he's my brother's boyfriend, and Ethan would most certainly kill at least one of us if he ever found out?"

"Eh, then don't get caught," he says, like it's no big deal.

She mulls it over for a minute, then decide he's right. Liam is Matthew's pusher anyway, she might as well go straight to the source.

"Okay, I'll ask Liam," she agrees.

"Good girl. And when you find him, tell him I desperately need him for drugs too," he says as melodramatically as possible and takes another swig of liquor. "Really, I'm almost out of, well, everything."

"I'll be sure to mention that," Elizabeth smiles, and gets up. She's not too fond of Matthew comparing his raging addiction to her needing a good night's rest, but she knows he doesn't mean anything by it.

Moving through the house, she looks for Liam. Judging by Matthew's request for more drugs, he is definitely hiding out there somewhere. She can't find him inside though, and instead heads for the backyard. Sure enough, there he is, selling a little bag of something to the guy in the suit. That's probably why he was here in the first place, searching for a dealer.

Heaving a deep breath of air, suddenly nervous, Elizabeth goes to Liam.

"Izzy, I didn't even know you were here," he says, giving her a tight hug. "How are you?"

"Uhm, well, I..." she trails off, not knowing how to reply. Then she decides to go the honest way. "Actually, not too good."

He looks concerned, then turns around, waving at her to follow. They go further into the backyard, down where it's even more of a wilderness. The grass probably hasn't been cut once since the house was abandoned, nor has any weeds been pulled.

Liam stops, finding a stump to sit on. "So, what's bothering you?" he asks kindly.

She falters a little, trying to form the question in her mind before she says anything out loud. "It's just... I can't sleep. Not properly, at least. I wake up several times during the night, and I'm so stressed out about everything and nothing at the same time," she blurts out, finally feeling like her life is allowed to crumble, even if it's just a little.

"Have you tried talking to someone?" he suggests. "I mean, other than me. Not that I don't want to help or listen or anything, I just mean there might be better options than me."

She nods. "I tried talking to my doctor about sleeping pills. Just to get a decent night's rest, seriously, I would settle for just one at this point."

"And?"

"And he said no. That they don't prescribe that kind of thing to people my age."

"Damn, that sucks."

"Yeah, so I was thinking, that maybe..."

"That maybe I could help?" he suggests, eyebrows raised.

"Yeah, something like that," Elizabeth says, looking intensely at the ground. Somehow it feels embarrassing for her to ask, and she's scared he'll just flat-out say no, and then tell her brother all about it.

He mulls it over a little, then says, "I could, I mean, I can."

"But?"

"But you seriously cannot tell Ethan."

"Oh I won't, I promise!" she says, trying to sound as reassuring as possible. "I don't want him to know either."

"Why not?" Liam asks.

"Because he'd worry too much," she answers, kicking lightly at the ground.

"And that's a bad thing?"

"I don't know... Maybe not, but I just want to see if I can pull through this on my own."
Liam nods slowly, then digs into his pocket. "Alright, I think these might do the trick," he says, producing a small bag with four white pills. "But don't overdo it."

Elizabeth can't imagine how one can overdo something using only four pills, but she guesses it means they are strong. She nods and takes the small ziplock bag, hiding it away inside her jean jacket.

He pulls her in for another tight hug, then says, "Sleep well kiddo."

"Thanks, Liam. Seriously, I really appreciate this."

He shrugs. "It is what I do best."

Taking her leave, Elizabeth feels a little hopeful, that she might just finally get some rest.

***

Returning home to her tiny studio apartment, she feels oddly calm about everything. It's okay to take stuff like this just once, as long as she's careful, it doesn't have to be a big deal. Just a good night's rest, it's all she needs, then she can go back to being a good student, not being late for classes, doing her homework, and all the stuff she needs to do. She takes off her jacket and hangs it across the back of a chair, then the rest of her clothes, until she's all set for bed. Sleep is all she can think about, and just having the pills in her hand makes her feel calmer. She goes into the tiny kitchenette, which is basically a sink and two hobs, and pours herself a glass of water. Liam didn't say anything about how many she should take, only not to overdo it, but he did give her four.

Maybe I'm supposed to take all of them?

She could call him up and ask, but she'd much rather head straight for bed. In the end, she decides to take them all. It'll be fine, and he wouldn't have given her more than needed for a single night's rest. He most likely just meant that she shouldn't be hitting him up about this again, at least not anytime soon. Shrugging, she swallows all four pills with a large sip of water.

It doesn't hit her immediately, but when it does, it hits hard. She feels dizzy, she's not sure she's supposed to, but either way, lying down seems like the perfect thing for her to do. Her eyes can't seem to focus, and she stumbles just moving herself to the bed. She lies down, pulling the covers up tightly around herself, and the world is spinning, even the ceiling seems to be twisting and turning, and her bed feels softer than it usually does. It feels like she's sinking into it, but not in an uncomfortable way. Somewhere between getting a warm hug, and being swallowed up. Her tiny bed, only fit for one person, suddenly seems huge.

Maybe I did overdo it?

She considers calling up Liam again, but her phone is in the kitchen, or at least she thinks it is. It's not anywhere nearby, and it seems like an impossible task to start looking for it. That would mean moving, and she can't seem to do that right now.

Sinking down further into the mattress, it seems like the perfect option is to just sleep. That's what this was for anyway, even if she did take too many pills, she's sure she can sleep it off.

When she drifts off, it feels like someone pushes a button, one that erases everything, including herself.