How did I get here?

Home alone

Here I am all alone in the house my daughter never came home to. All I can think about is her, all I can dream about is her coming home to mommy .I miss every thing about her , her laugh , her comfort , her smile ,her voice and much more. Every time my eyes close I get a flash back  of a different memory we shared  and how happy we were, there was never a bad memory . She loved me and Tim so much. If I could live in her room for the rest of my life I would .

I knew something just wasn't right. The whole situation just felt off. This wasn't like Hope at all. She always came to me with all her problems. There was never a time where she didn't. If there's something she wasn't telling me, who would she tell? As if a lightbulb went off in my head, I rush outside to my car. I open the glove compartment moving around all the shit I have in here when I finally found it. The leather felt smooth, but it looked worn out. Like she had it for a while. I walked back into the house throwing the book onto the coffee table. I sat on the couch staring at it. This could have all the answers, but was I ready for the answer?

The question ran through my head as I laid awake in her room. I begin reading the note that she left, searching for possible clues or meanings that I could've missed. I then realized that the note was not in her hand writing, but instead it was in Tim's. This makes no sense. Why would Tim write our daughter's suicide note? Was he connected to this somehow? Could I trust my husband?

He would be returning from his trip in a couple of days. I would have to keep the diary a secret. If he knew something I didn't, why wasn't he telling me? What is it that he didn't want me to know? I begin to second guess my thoughts. No Tim would never lie to me let alone kill are own daughter. I think I'm losing my mind, but just in case I'll put the diary away. Somewhere he won't find it. At least until I get the courage to read it. 

The next morning I immediately called the police department. I spoke with one of the detectives about my suspicions and asked him to keep it quiet for the time being. "Just until I get enough evidence." I told him. He thought I was crazy and threatened to put me in a mental home, so I knew I had to keep my suspicions to myself. 

I pull the diary out of the secret compartment under the floorboard. Maybe it's time I read it.