Hopes Servant

Chapter 1

Two months, three weeks, i whispered to myself,

I glanced over at the calendar the same one that had been pinned to the wall, as long as I could remember, marks and lettering had consumed the pages and there, in red, a large drawn circle around the date October 18. With little room for anything to add; sticky-notes became my new source, which hung around my room like quotes that filled a person's mind.

Two months, three weeks,

I look at the clock, and its past 11pm and I was still awake, even if I was getting less and less sleep as each day went by, I had to try and come up with a better explanation – one that did not start and along the lines of 'I'm sorry'. I swear I had repeated that phrase more than a hundred times in my head in the past twenty minutes alone, that it's been etched into my brain. the waste bin – which had been placed neatly in the corner – began to over flow with words and scrunched up pieces of paper, which covered the floor, once again I turned my head to look at the clock and it's just reached past 11:30, I walk over to the shelving compartment in the other room to grab some paper, but what I ended up finding was nothing but the old packaging and the receipt still taped to it. I walk back to my room and throw myself onto the chair which sat beside my desk, frustrated, I lean my head back and look up at the ceiling, the blue-grey ceiling was nothing un-ordinary; one light which was bright enough to allow people to see where they are walking and a massive crack that opened into what seemed at first like a spider-web. I don't give a second thought about it anymore; as long as I had a room – what was left of it – I was happy. I get out of my chair and decide to finally get some sleep and by then it had hit midnight. I lay on the bed, looking up at the roof as I got comfortable and took in a deep breath, I lean over to the bedside table where, only a little while ago there were books that were neatly stacked, now in replacement - a glass of water and a mobile phone that was charging. Soon enough, the sleep consumed me and I waited for the next day to approach.

Morning came earlier than expected; with the ringing of the alarm and notifications blowing up my phone, who could get anymore sleep? I shift myself up into a half slouch - half seated position at the head of the bed and look over at my phone to read the time. 7:15 am. I roll my eyes and grunt as I pull myself out of bed and get ready for school. By the time I reached the door to leave, I trip over what looks like a package. I check the time to see if I have to open it before leaving. 8:00. I huff. It doesn't take me long to get to school and it didn't start till 9.00am so I hopped around the counter to grab a pair of scissors which laid neatly next to a note reading, "Working late, don't wait up xx – Ren, (P.S please get to school on time). I rolled my eyes, this is the third night this week Renata had to cover another person's night shift at the hospital. She usually does 16 hour shifts a day, but tonight she's covering someone else's shift as well, making it a 20 plus hour shift.

I return my attention back to the box which I had placed on the counter. Carefully trying not to damage anything in the box, I grab the scissors which were thrown in the side draw of the counter and slice through the tape, I place the scissors down and open then box. There, piled neatly, was a stack of books, all with no other labels but the names of the books and authors. Stacking them on the counter and reading through, I recognised only one book,'Love, Faith, Hope: creating life after death,' one that my grandpa use to read to me and Ren when we were younger, a book we never got to finish, we only got through half the book when we got a call about the accident that happened, after that I stopped reading. Looking closely into the box, I notice there were stacks of notebooks, some empty, some half-finished, I pick them up while stacking them in piles; books, notebooks; empty and full. Looking up, I find myself with two large piles, there were at least five books and about five notebooks made up the thickness of each individual book. I smile after seeing a hand written note on the bottom of the box with the name "Alejandra Roselyn Jackson", no one calls me by my full name, except my grandfather. I recognised his handwriting and begin to feel tears fall on the side of my face, I could only make out part of the letter as the tears blocked my vision;