Eva Island Monologue

Two shadows emerge from a dark bedroom like bears coming out of hibernation. They move into the kitchen, and the moon casts lights and shadows into the room, illuminating everything. The silhouettes are holding hands, and they huddle close to each other. Tears have stained their cheeks, and both of their hair is matted down with mud and leaves.
One shadow has a soft, slender figure that could only belong to a female. The other has broad shoulders and muscular legs, which were obtained from days of running.
“What time is it?” the girl whispers frantically, her eyes darting around the room.
“It’s probably two,” the boy replies.
“I don’t know about you, Blaine, but I’d probably be sleeping right now.” the girl lets out a soft, half-hearted laugh.
How’d I’d love to be asleep right now.”
I’d love to be in bed right now, rather than running away from my perhaps inevitable death.
Blaine thinks as he leads Eva into the dining room, which normally would be bright and saturated, its walls red and accentuated by the many pictures encompassing Blaine and his family. Now, it was dark and sending grotesque shadows across the room that resembled demons.
“I’m scared.” Eva murmurs, breaking the silence. Blaine exhales and drops her hand to stroke her cheek.
“Listen to me,” he begins, staring into those piercing green eyes that first reeled him in, “I don’t know what’s going to happen in the next couple hours, but I’ll be at your side, even after the sun does or doesn’t rise.”
“And then?”
“Shhh,” Blaine presses his fingers to her lips.
“Let’s not think about the
Rubbing her eyes, she leaps out of her blankets and almost hits her head on her mahogany dresser. Damn, she thinks to herself. She pulls her window curtains apart, and casts a furtive glance out the window. It’s a typical day in Harpswell, Maine: the birds are chirping, the water is still, and the ever pungent smell of mud lingers.
Eva steps downstairs, pausing to press her finger against a portrait of her deceased grandfather. I miss you, gramps. She ruminates, lost in the nostalgic memories she has of her grandfather.
“Honey, are you going to eat breakfast?” her mother’s shrill voice awakens her.
“Yeah mom, I’m right here.” Eva mumbles, continuing down the stairs. She walks into the kitchen and is taken aback when splash!
Her brother is holding a squirt gun, which is now emptied from shooting Eva with it. He cackles and Eva clenches her fists. “Mooo-om!” she protests, exasperated.
“Joshua Jay Tyson! You bring that over to me right now!” their mother scolds.
“Haha, whatever.” Josh sputters, marching over to their mom and forking the squirt gun over.
“Eva, you go and get changed,” her mother sniffed. “And please, do something about your