There it was. Anything and everything to do with Josh's death was written down the depth of those pages. Josh's diary lay innocently in the draw I had just heaved open.
Without another thought, I grabbed it and flicked the pages delicately as if it were glass. I turned page after page of scrawled writing, until I reached the page of the day he was attacked. He had refused to talk about it, so surely there was something in here about it.
It felt wrong; reading his diary. But I managed to persuade myself seemings as he was dead.
Sunday 14th July
I couldn't sleep tonight, I don't know why. There's constantly a pain at the back of my mind that I can't seem to get rid of. Everything seems wrong, but right at the same time. Like I'm seeing everything backwards when it's actually forwards.
I don't know what's happening, but I have a feeling it's to do with today. When it got me. But I don't know what 'it' was. It's like my memory was switched off for a split second, then switched back on when I was with Emily. Speaking of her, I don't want to tell her. Not anything at all.
I hate it, not knowing anything. But I'm sure I will know something soon. Very soon.
