The Songs I Wrote You

Unknown Pages

I felt a hesitant hand on my shoulder. I turned to see tearful grey eyes. Her sister. I gave her a fake smile and looked back over at the lake.

At this point I didn't want to hear anyone's comforting words. Telling me everything was going to be okay, when it wasn't. Not without her.

"How are you coping?" she asked me. I just gave her a dead look. She knew the answer to her own question. Why she asked, was beyond me.

I just stayed quiet.

"I know this is hard for you, believe me. She was my sister."

"I miss her," I decided to answer her. After all, she was only trying to be kind.

"I found this when we were cleaning out her room. I think you should read it."she said, handing me an old, worn notebook. It was leather, and had a thin wire tying it closed. The notebook seemed to be falling apart, but I took it anyways.

She once again gave me a sad smile, and walked off. I clutched the book to my chest. Knowing it was hers, made it that much more special and sacred. I would gaurd the book with my life. It was hers, so I had to protect it, the way I would her.

I got home late that evening. My eyes were bloodshot. My shoulders were slouched, and my back  was sore. I felt dead, but I knew I wasn't. I wish I was, but I'd rather her be dead then me. I'd take the pain of living with out her, if it meant her being somewhere she could call home.

I got into my bed, and opened the notebook to the first page, not knowing what lie within. Whatever it was, I was prepared.