Things Happen | ✓

Chapter Thirty-Four: The Letter

The tears didn't come, even after I was curled up beneath the silky bed sheets in my room. I pulled the bedding tighter around me, giving myself permission to cry. But still, no tears came.

Frustrated, I pushed the covers off me and stood up, walking briskly to my bookshelf. I stood on my tiptoes, reaching for a book that I hadn't opened ever since I moved to Curmouth.

It was my song journal.

It was a simple black leather journal, but it's contents were anything but simple. This book held my deepest and darkest feelings, all bottled up into lyrical stanzas. It contained some of my worst memories. I had been so caught up in drama, that I had forgotten about my written escape.

Without a second's doubt, I flipped to the next open page and grabbed a fountain pen from my desk. I sat on my bed, and began to furiously write. The emotions that were bottled up inside flowed so easily onto the paper, and I instantly felt lightened by the time I had filled a white sheet of paper with inky words. It's much easier to cry in ink than in tears.

With a sigh of relief, I set the notebook down, gazing at the painful words.

You're a thief with your green eyes and beautiful lies
Do you know how hard you make me cry

I just want to pull you close
You're the reason my heart broke

But I keep coming back for more
We can pick up the broken shards from this wooden floor

Look in the mirror
Love isn't something you should fear
I will forgive and I will forget

For if you will stay
I will remain.

I reread the page again and again until the words lost their meaning. Then I shut the journal and placed it back on the shelf.

Writing that down made me feel so much lighter. If I had to hold in everything, then I would explode. That was the reason why I had created a song journal in the first place.

After the car accident songwriting became one of the best ways to let out my emotions without breaking something. But those songs weren't something I liked to look back on. They were dark, terrifying lyrics that I never did, or would, sing. But it helped a lot. I would write it out and silently read the words until I couldn't feel the emotion I associated with them.

Just as I set the journal down, someone knocked on my closed bedroom door.

"Come in.", I said, surprised by the hollowness of my own voice. Maybe this whole "Will thing" had hit me deeper than I thought.

The door swung open, revealing Mrs. Jameson who gave me a small smile.

"Miss Kendall, I'm sorry to intrude, but I have some news to deliver.", She said in her pristine voice.

I tried to return her smile. "Don't be sorry. You can come in.", I answered, my tone sounding somewhat happier this go-around.

"I just wanted to tell you that you should head down to Mr. Mason's office at about nine o'clock tomorrow morning so Tori can prepare you for the interview.", She chirped.

Right away, I felt queasy. "Oh, right. Okay.", I said with a slow nod. I had forgotten about the interview, and now that Ms. Jameson had reminded me, I was plagued with anxiety all over again.

"And that's not all the news.", Ms. Jameson spoke up, causing me to look up in surprise.

"What is it?", I asked, feeling a little worried. More news usually meant bad news.