Do. Not. Open.

Chapter 2

'If only Liam noticed me. But no one... no one ever does.'

It was the last page written and founded directly near the books middle.

Liam?

My name was Liam.

Yet I wasn't completely sure the Liam in this book, and I Liam, were the same.

I felt inclined to read more, and just as I turned the pages to the front of the book, noticing very well that the name tag had been scratched off, I was soaked and practically bathed in a sea of red liquid.

I heard the cheers and wild grunts of my teammates on the soccer field cheering Chase and Torren on as they continued their Gatorade onslaught.

I hadn't noticed at first, but laughed along with the idiots, seeming real bipolar the next second when I screamed out in anger after recognising what they did to it.

"What the fuck guys! Come on!"

Chase and Torren stopped their parade and tomfoolery, in astonishment.

"Ghessh dude. It was a joke." Torren said.

"Yeah, you act like it's the first time" Chase added.

I was angry , I quickly shook out the excess water on the book, jumping down the benches to the green ground, making my way towards the locker room.

"What's got your panties in a knot?!" Leath screamed across field. He had the soccer ball in hand staring along with our other team mates.

I paid the guys no mind, didn't really want anyone in my business, plus I was furious.

I swiftly went over to the faucet and tried to rinse off the excess stickiness. That only made the situation worst. The pages were beginning to ink blot in some places. Boyy was I an idiot.

I ran over to the towel cabinet near the closet space and gripped one and lightly began dabbing a way at the water soaked pages. Having done the best I could with the excess water I went into the bathroom and pressed down on the hand dryer's start button. It aided in the books drying a lot.

By the time the book was finished drying or at least nearly so, soccer practice was over. And I could hear as the boys began to fill the locker room's space with loud chants and talking.

I looked through the pages of the book, disappointed. Most of the pages where really messed up, some magically untouched, and others other fairly disturbed. Some pages were stained red and or ink blotched from the wet and leaking ink that dried.

The journal was now barely readable, but I still wanted to try.

The first page.

I turned to it and it was practically as fit as could be.

I stood there, and read eagerly amongst the noise makers.

January 18, 2016

Dear Diary Journal,

Because I hate the cliché of how 'Dear Diary' sounds. Welcome to Life, because your first breath was written into being on this very first page, and I'm suppose to be pleased to meet you. But for some reason I think this stupid project of hers, isn't going to help me at all or even as well as she thinks. Its my mind that I need to escape, yet here I am writing only to you, an extension of me, when only I would see it. All the fancy PHD's in the world won't be able to help unlock what's in this mind of mines. Life sucks. You'll understand later what I mean.