I turn another page, but her words end. One week before her death is her last entry.
My chest aches when I come to the empty pages. The parts she was supposed to be filling in now, and for years to come.
The parts that were taken from her.
The overwhelming need to talk to her hits me again and I sniff back the welling tears.
I glance to the pen on the bed a few inches away, and I swallow. Maybe I can talk to her again. She just won’t be able to talk back.
I pick up the pen and flip a few more pages. I’ll leave a few blank, to represent what should have been. What she lost. I pick an empty page and begin to write.
I miss you so much,Elizabeth. I want to talk to you, hear you, see you, hug you. I want you to have the life you were supposed to have.
A tear sneaksdown to the tip of my nose. I wipe it away quickly.
I feel so alone here,even with a “boyfriend” and some real, sincere friends. I’m still so damn alone. Because I can’t let anyone see what’s really inside. The hate and the fear and the confusion. It’s like a hurricane inside my chest that I have to hide at all times. It’s exhausting.
I read your words, and sometimes it makes me feel closer to you, but other times it makes me feel even more confused. Because those wonderful things you were feeling, I’m afraid to feel them too. I’m afraid I’m falling into the same trap you did.
I came here for revenge. I came here to find the bastard that hurt you and destroy him. I cannot rest until I do that.
And now, I’m here. I’m working on uncovering the mystery surrounding your death. I intend to do that. But I’m also slipping into this abyss that terrifies me. I don’t know where it leads.
He gave me flowers, just like your crush did. He’s sent me letters, just like yours did. He smiles at me and tells me I’m beautiful—just like yours did before he killed you.
I choke on a sob.
WillJarron tell me he loves me before he strangles me to death too?
23
If Justice Has No Hold on This Place, I’ll Have to Create My Own
I wake with a throbbing headache.
Elizabeth’s journal is still in my grasp, as usual.
Will Jarron tell me he loves me before he strangles me to death too?
My stomach sinks but not in the way I’d expected. Not out of fear. Out of guilt.
I can’t tell if I’m being stupid for continuing to doubt Jarron. My heart honestly believes he is good and kind and sincere. But that doesn’t make sense with what I know about demons.
And my sister was misled. Yes, she was a bit more of a hopeless romantic. She was more naïve and trusting, but she wasn’t dumb.
What if I’m being naïve too? What if Jarron’s pretty face and pretty words are manipulating me just like Elizabeth?
Or what if… what if it’s all real? What if he is good and kind? What if he really cares and will help me find Liz’s killer? What if Jarron really does have feelings for me?
I shake my head. For some reason, that’s the harder thing to believe.
I pull my body out of bed and ignore the continued ache in my chest. Liz’s laughter echoes through my memories. I miss her so much it physically hurts.
This plan of mine hasn’t worked out how I’d anticipated. I didn’t plan to like it here. I didn’t plan to have friends. I didn’t plan to want to let my guard down.
Maybe I should have anticipated some of those things. In my mind, though, I was a heartless machine, here for one goal, and being a human with feelings in the between time wasn’t part of the plan.
Reality has different plans, clearly.
