Brittany had yet to arrive and I wanted to read on for a bit, while I waited. If you told Brittany Five minutes it often took her double that. Girl was terrible with time management. I wanted more answers so I searched for it.
February 17, 2016
Dear Journal,
Liam//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// as I suspected//////////////////////////////////////////// didn't notice me at all.///////////////////////////////// passed me in the hall////////////////////////////////////////////////////////I guess at the dance he really only saw me as a girl without a face, just a person to dance////////////////////////its//////////////////////////////////////////////////////// Leah////////////////////////////////////////////////advice////////////////////////////////////////
I'm over it.
P.s. Girl power.
Xoxo. Sunny skies, feel the rainbow.
I was barely able to read this page. Something happened with me. I guess, I did forget about her after the dance, but that was only because Brittany and I had gotten into a huge fight that night when I refused to fake smile. I was angry. I was surrounded by people, dancing and being happy with their friends and felt like it was all a lie. Is this how she feels? The girl in the purple dress. I had fun dancing with her but like she said tens times over, I hadn't noticed.
So I read on. The following pages were unintelligible, days of writing were a complete mess of ink. I cursed inwardly at them fools for destroying her book until I came upon a page that wasn't so disturbed.
February 19, 2016
Dear journal.
Life sucks.
Xoxo Sunny? Hail storms.
February 22, 2016
Dear Journal,
I hate everything and everyone.
Xoxo Sunny nothings, sunny nothings.
What was going on? The past two pages were a few days apart but she had only written a mere few words. What had happened? What am I missing here? The next page a blurr.
February 28, 2016
Dear Journal,
///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////friends////////////////////////////////////////////////////family////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
Whose safe?
No one.
Nothing but Storms Clouds.
March 2, 2016
Dear Journal,
She's dying.
Hurricanes.
It didn't make sense. I tried to piece together the pieces myself. Put huge junks of the puzzle were missing. Thank goodness. The following pages were a bit okay.
March 12, 2016
Dear Journal,
I hate my life, my luck, and everything around me. It feels as if I'm floating, with my head barely above water, and there's no shore in sight. No where to go for help, no way to help myself: my choices?- only one; To let go.
When we had moved out here, mom promised me things would get better after dad's death, she promised me no more pain, that nothing else would be taken from me. She knew that Leah was the only friend I had and I understood that we had to leave for us to start again, for her job and mostly because there was just to much pain left in California to remind us of him. The trips to the hospital bed as he slowly mutated into something unrecognizable, the bedside talks, him in pain. Yet he was still my dad and I loved him soo much it hurt to leave everything behind. But we did, and mom made a promise and like most promises that cannot be kept, again I feel this pain.
Whyyy?
Why do people keep being taken away from me?
Why do I feel so alone?
It was all over National news that day,
A reporter, reporting live after the incident at Mclaian High as the many sirens of police cars and ambulences filled the crime scene and ambience behind her. Her words were a blur to me at first, all meshing together because my heart didn't want to believe what my eyes and ears were perceiving. She said:
' Here in California is a sad day. 20 students were taken to the hospital with minor injuries however two sustained critical wounds and are now admitted into Emergency care. There names are George Mulling and Leah Strachan. The mass shooter is currently unidentified. Wait. What's this?! I'm currently being fed new information that George is now stable but Ms. Strachan has unfortunately passed. Let us pray for the strength of these families and for the dearly departed. This is Lisa Payne, reporting live for CBS News.'
Her words rung over and over in my mind until they finally broke understanding, and I fell into a puddle of tears. By the time my mother had returned from her second job she found me, drenched on the floor,
I had cried myself to sleep.
Sunny nothings, Sunny nothings
I knew of the incident she spoke of. It was all that was on the news and radio stations for the past 4 weeks. How the crime in this country is reaching escalating rates? How the government needs to do something to stop it all? How the police officers themselves need to be taught better preventive attacks, and shoot to neutralise and not to kill. This was all over media, Leah's death, I've seen her face. She was African american with large pretty brown eyes that showed nothing but kindness and love. She had died trying to save Mulling a disabled student in a wheel chair from the shooter and sustained the brunt of the shots. It was soo sad, so agonizingly painful to watch and hear about, I couldn't imagine what she, the girl in the Journal must be going through.
I have to find her.
I need to know if she is alright.
If she is safe.
.................................................
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Do. Not. Open.
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