Thursday 23rd August, 2040.
Mansion- Section 1, Quarter 1.
8:30pm.
___________________
I haven't moved from my bed since I got back home. I haven't stopped staring at the ceiling since I ran to my room and fell face-up onto my bed. Tonight's events play in my head like a movie and I can't seem to distract myself. The drive home from Inwoods was able to calm me down a little so my knuckles are safe... for now. Dad isn't home yet and I want nothing more than to just let him in on everything I've been hiding.
The mysterious note leaver and Principal Cowfer.
My thoughts, even right now, scare me. My heart still thumps harder than usual every time I think of what happened at Inwoods earlier. Laying down in one place isn't helping. I have to find a way to busy myself so I don't think about invisible men with guns.
I push myself off my bed and move to my desk. I force my brain to focus on the task in front of me. I force myself to be present in the here and now. I pick at each book on my desk. I toy with my school textbooks from the past two semesters and espionage notes in smaller jotters. One by one I get closer to the end of my tower of books. I'm about to discard a particular book when I pause upon realization of what it is.
The journal Knockout gave to me as an early birthday present alongside my first pair of gloves. I run my fingers against the dark brown leather back that's about the length of my palm. I'm meant to use the journal for documenting my 'feelings and triggers' according to him. I tried using it once or twice in my heightened moments of emotional pain and anger but it never brought me any form of relief whatsoever. I never managed to transfer my pain to paper so I just ended up abandoning the journal here on my desk. I'm a little curious to see what I wrote inside. I hold the book in one hand, about to flip it open but I hesitate for a bit. I let out a breath and open to the first page. My nose scrunches up the instant I read what I wrote.
Date: 12th February.
Dad isn't here. It's my birthday and he's not home. It hurts. I can't tell him it hurts because it's stupid to cry over things like this.
And I can't tell anyone it hurts because I don't have anyone.
I flip to the second page a little too quickly. Wanting to get away from my pain of years ago.
Date: 13th February.
Why did Knockout think this would work?
Why did he think that by writing my feelings it would make my chest stop hurting?
It's not working. It's not working. It's not working. It's not working. It's not working. It's not working. It's NOT working! IT'S NOT WORKING!
That's all.
I never wrote another word in this book. I just abandoned it. I hold the two used pages in my hands deliberating if I should just tear them off. I don't. I decide to fold them in half vertically so the words are buried.
Rory's words come unbidden to my mind then.
'Just how sheltered are you?'
I take a seat behind the desk then grab a pen out of my pen holder. I know instantly how I'll make this journal useful. I'm not good at writing feelings and emotions. I would rather jump off a cliff than read those two journal entries again so instead, I will use this journal for something useful. I am going to conduct my own research into what Rory said. I am going to find out for myself if the claims he made this evening are true.
I write the words and just sit there for a minute staring at them.
Just how sheltered are you?
YOU ARE READING
Truth Chasers
Mystery / ThrillerImagine this. You close your eyes for merely a second and when you open them, it's the year 2040. Everything is different. The very world as you know it today is contrary to your current reality. There's are no regular chocolate bars like sneakers o...
