The Secrets We Keep

Prologue

In The Near Future

Amelia

I used to write about him in my diary. There are pages and pages in there dedicated to pondering our relationship. Although, I guess 'friendship' is the better way to describe us. 

We never really made it out of the friend zone, even though I always knew there was something more between us. 

But I thought that feeling was love. Not this. Not this evil madness I see in his eyes as he dangles me out of the window.

"Please," I beg as the moisture in my palms begins to make his hold on my hand slip. "I'm so sorry, please just let me up." 

I was never afraid of heights. But then again, no one had ever pushed me out of a window and threatened to let me fall. Now I'm terrified of them. I risk a glance down and immediately regret it. I'm so high up and if he lets go, it's a long way down for me. 

The ground is a beautifully paved walkway that leads to the garden. The stones have been worn smooth by the amount of people who've walked over them. But even still, my head will surely split open if I hit them. Or worse, my whole body will break, every one of my bones, leaving me paralyzed if not dead. 

"I'm so sorry. Please let me up," I sob, my voice breaking and stuttering as I feel my fingers slide just a little bit more out of his hand. 

I see his eyes change then. Relief breaks out as a sweat on my neck and forehead as his eyes take on a panicked edge. If he's panicking, he's not going to drop me, I decide. I watch as he pulls back his arm and tries to raise me again. 

I scramble then, trying to hook my feet on any protruding bricks that make up this tower of the school. I need anything that will help me gain a footing. My other arm writhes out wildly so that I can grab hold of the ledge he pushed me off. 

I let out an unsteady breath as he braces his other arm on the wall inside the office and starts pulling me up, his teeth bared in concentration. 

But all this is too much for us. Between the fear and the panic and then the exercise we're putting our bodies through in order to raise me up again, our bodies our drenched in sweat. And that's when I feel it: his palm becomes too moist to hold onto. And then either him, or me, lets go and then there's nothing to prevent me from falling. 

The sensation is like being on a roller coaster. My stomach drops out of my body as I start quickly gaining for the ground. Air whooshes as I coarse through it and it all happens so fast that I barely have the time to call out before I hit the ground with a sickening crunch. 

I gasp as the pain hits me. It's overwhelming and I've never felt so cold and hot ever before. But none of that matches the feeling of looking up, up, up at the window I just fell from. 

He peers out from the window, staring down at me but he's too far away and I can't see his expression. His mouth seems to be moving but my ears are ringing now and I can't hear a thing. And then there's the darkness that creeps up and starts pulling at my vision. 

It's hard to breathe. My lungs burn as I feel my chest rise and fall unsteadily. And then stops altogether. 

Then it's just darkness. And my last image of him, the boy I used to write about, the boy who killed me, vanishes along with my final breath.