Dear Bully: Thank You [Book One] [Completed] #Wattys2017

You Can't STOP This

~Edward's POV~
~Friday Morning~

    I read her note hurriedly, looking for any more clues to her whereabouts.

Dear Bully,
    I'm running. I'm running as far as I possibly could from you. I'm gonna run so far that you'll never find me. I hope. Don't come for me. Please don't. I'll never let you catch me. I am at the same place I told you I was. That is all that I will say about my location. I hope that you never find me. I hope that I die a terrible death. I can't stop this, and neither can you. So don't try to.
                                        Go away,
                                       Alexandra

    Nothing. I need to find her but I have no way of knowing where she is. I run around my room looking for the other note. Finally, I find it inside my drawer. I take it out and look closely at it. I realize for the first time that the first letter in every sentence isn't capitalized. There are only a few letters that are. I start looking intently at the letters and I get out a notepad. I write down the letters and realize that they spell something out.

I-L-L-I-N-O-I-S-P-U-B-L-I-C-P-A-R-K

    I look close at what I've written down and realize that there are three words. Illinois Public Park. I immediately run to my phone and search it on Maps. It's 1.7 miles away. This must be where she went.

~Alexandra's POV~

    I sit in the middle of Illinois Public Park, weeping. I'm thinking about Edward and what will happen if and when he finds me. I'm thinking about what will happen if he doesn't and I kill myself. And I'm thinking about my mom, whom I haven't talked to in 2 weeks. She avoids me. I don't know why. Maybe she's creeped out by me. Maybe she just doesn't love me anymore. I hold the knife close to my neck and i think about what I'm doing. What am I doing? I'm sitting in the open field of a park and holding a knife too close to my head for comfort. Why am I even doing this? Do I really want to kill myself?
    These questions race through my mind as I lose my grip on the knife and it falls to the ground, slicing my foot open on its journey downward. I grab my foot and wince from the pain. I haven't felt pain for a few weeks. I stopped feeling any real pain once I got used to not eating. Have I really gone insane?
    I was trying hard not to draw attention to myself. I didn't want anyone stopping me from carrying out my fate. My fate is to die this horrible death. My fate is to suffer in hell. My fate is to never enjoy another moment with my loving mother.

    Or is it?