Wake up. Possibly shower. Get dressed. Make coffee. Drink coffee. Walk to work. Work. Close. Go home. Eat. Sleep.
That was Evan Way's typical everyday routine, any sort of unexpected interruption a rarity. She lived by these steps and savored it. She enjoyed her expectations and those expectations being met. Surprises were despised by her, and she hated not knowing the outcomes of situations she got stuck in. Hell, it wasn't a healthy way to live, but it worked for her.
She was twenty-one and had a nonexistent social life. If she could keep herself alive by earning a wage that could keep her flat rent payed and put food and booze in her fridge, she was satisfied.. She didn't want the hassles that came along with too many friends. It had been years since she contacted her family, and it was a miracle if she gave in and called her parents on Christmas. Yeah, it seemed like the bitch thing to do, but Evan just wanted to live her life peacefully. From what she learned in her lifetime, interacting with people was detrimental to the idea of "living in peace".
The only person she was remotely close to was the woman who lived across the hall and did her tattoos. It took Evan multiple visits to the tattoo parlor before she would actually get familiar enough to learn her name: Ashley Bennet., which was exactly what Evan called her. She never called her Ashley or even the formal Miss Bennet; she addressed her at Ashley Bennet. The woman soon got sick of the awkward formality, so insisted on Evan calling her Ginger, on account of the woman's hair. Evan hated the idea of nicknames; it meant they were getting close, but the woman did her tattoos, so she had to stay on her good side, so she complied.
Other than that, her best friend was her job, and her job was music, and that was more than enough to keep her content - or at least her version of content. Ever since she was a little girl, one love never faltered, and that love was music. To be able to basically own the record store she worked at now was basically a dream come true. The actual owner hand many branches of the shop she worked in, so the specific store Evan managed was basically hers. As long as the profits kept rolling in, Evan was free to run it as she pleased. This meant, of course, she never hired anyone else, ran the store herself, and allowed it to be the perfect excuse for her anti-social lifestyle.
Evan had built herself this perfect little shelter with an unfaltering barrier that kept her away from the world. She considered it to be one of her strongest creations. Little did she know, it wouldn't be holding up for long.
Let the demolition begin.