Noah

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They have started to investigate because your father had pulled out some contacts from higher officials. The students don't have the facts of your death straight. They think someone has just hanged you. They think many other things but the word rape is kept well out. I wonder if your father knows. Maybe not or the investigation wouldn't be as sloppy as now. The cops are just putting up a show, ticking off things to look like they had done everything on their behalf. Our school must be paying them hard.

I was too antsy to read your book at school. What with all the cops questioning the teachers. I had your book hidden under all my books, just in case they started to search. I'm a little too over the edge. I had kept checking for a cop in my close proximity.  Is it true that a cop might identify a person as a suspect just by their body language? What was I even thinking? I'm not a suspect. I only have your book. All I suspect is Colin. My reasons are flimsy though. It was mainly on how he acted with you on the last days and the way he reacted when Roy informed us about the cops. Nothing strong had come up against him.

When reaching home, I was for once happy for having the house empty. I'm not sure what your mother does but mine is always away. I usually find myself wishing for a how-was-your-school-today talk. But it's okay, mom manages to spend more time with me when she is free. At least she is trying.

I lock my front door and rummage through my bag looking for your book. I pull out your book and sink into the sofa. My heart flutters. I'm holding something of yours. It feels weirdly odd. I had never seen anyone with this. Not even Colin. It's not like you would appear magically and confront me for stealing your book. I'm not sure you can do that. I don't want to know. Even if you can, just don't do that. What is wrong with me? You are dead. You can't read my mind in the first place. 

I open your book and bring it to my nose. It smells of your locker. Your stuff. My eyes start to well up. I'm smelling you, Ava. My throat tightens as I turn the pages. I'm now starting to read your words. Forgive me if I'm doing something that's bothering you. Obviously you wouldn't want anyone reading your treasured words. Again forgive me, I need to do this though. I'm doing this for you.

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