Mystery Girl

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

When I walked into Alana's room she had a leather bound book in her hands. She didn't notice me, or if she did she didn't acknowledge me.

"What ya got there?" Without looking up she shushed me. She actually shushed me. 

"Alana..." I started, but she looked up before I could finish. 

"Oh, River. Sorry. I'm just really into this book," she closed it and looked up at me, "It's...ummm...just a book I'm writing. Or...was writing." She had a sad look in her eye. 

"What's it about?" 

She looked down, kind of embarrassed and whispered "Me." 

So the book was about her. About her life. What she had gone through. I didn't notice until then that she was crying. She tears dripping down her cheeks. I walked over to her bed, sat on the edge and looked at her. 

"Can I read it?" Without a word, she nodded and handed me the book. It was actually a beautiful book. Brown leather, and brown string so it could be closed, with the world of the words hidden inside. Sniffling and holding back more tears she looked at me and said, "When you've finished reading it, will you help me finish it?" I knew that she wasn't talking about the book. "Once I've finished the book, I'm going to help you finish writing it. And it will end with a happily ever after. Trust me."

*

"Fear. It's a funny thing really. Everyone has fears and we all have dreams. So are our fears more powerful, or our dreams? I have fears. I have dreams. But lately my life hasn't been either. It's been both. A nightmare. There's no one who can save me now. No one would be stupid enough to actually try. And I really don't blame them. I blame myself."

And that's where it ends. Its been 2 weeks since Alana gave me her book. It's amazing how intriguing her mind is. Her thoughts. Her feelings. All in the small book that I hold in my hands. Although there are only a handful of pages left in the book, but I know that there's still so much to be added. I lifted my wrist to my face and looked at my watch. 12am. Midnight. For the past 2 weeks I've been seeing only Alana. I was supposed to get my regular schedule back last week but, that was before Alana was diagnosed. Last Tuesday, I was with Alana. I had asked the hospital for permission to take her out for the day. They called up her mother and gave me the ok, as long as we were back by 6, but we didn't even make it to 12.

With my arm around Alana's shoulder, we walked side by side to the park. I found a park bench beneath a shady oak. We sat down and I turned in my seat. "Alana," I started, "Why did you start writing that book?" 

She looked down at her hand, interlocking her fingers. "I...I had nothing else to do with my emotions. I didn't want to take out in violence and I didn't want to provoke my parents, and I'm also not dumb enough to do drugs or drink or something like that. So I started writing. I documented my feelings. My experiences. I stopped writing it when I tried." She didn't say the word. I knew what she was talking about. "Did you finish it?", she continued. "No. Not yet, I've only started. Did you write about your parents?" And that's when it happened. A vacant look came over her before her tears spilt over. She looked in my direction, but not at me. She quickly snapped out of it, but she instantly began crying. She shoulders heaving. She pulled her legs up to her chest, wrapping her arms tightly around her legs, and buried her face into her knees. I wrapped my arms around her. She continued to cry, she eventually let her legs drop and her arms wrapped around her torso. She cried into my shoulder. I knew exactly what was going on. She was having a flashback. When her eyes began to dry out I let my grip on her loosen. I kept my hands on her shoulders. She looked up at me apologetically. "Sor..." she started apologizing but I interrupted by placing my index finger lightly on her lips. "Don't apologize. It's not your fault." I grabbed her hand and helped her to her feet. Even though the hospital was only a 5 minute walk away, I opted for a taxi.