An Open Sky

Chapter Nineteen ~Aidan~

Her mom died six months ago, almost seven now. She wrote in the journal every now and then. She started it when her mom died. The last time she wrote was a few days ago. I felt bad for reading it; I only read a few of them, and this one had my name in it so technically I had a right. It’s funny how I refer to Creeper Boy as my name. Personally, I thought it kind of fit. I scanned the page:

            Jay keeps calling me. It’s kind of annoying, but I don’t really care. I still answer every time. He’s nice. Okay, who am I kidding, he’s amazing. Melrose never had guys like this, what gives? As much as I like him, I can’t stop thinking about Creeper Boy. There’s just something mysterious about him, you know? It’s like he does it on purpose to keep me thinking about him. I know he’s kind of a stalker and I should be worried about it, but he’s just not…scary. I keep trying to catch him staring in my window again, but I guess he’s decided not to do that anymore.

            I still miss my friends at home. Dad’s still trying to convince me that this is good for me. I still think about you, mom. Remember when you said if anything happened, you’d watch out for me? Well, I really hope you are, because I could use your help.

~Alexa

            Alexa, you don’t know how true that last sentence is, I thought. I wish I could just send her a warning about Jay and make her believe me. I needed her to believe me, but I’d have to tell her later. She needed to trust me more than him first. I ran my hands over my face. It seemed impossible. Jay’s amazing and I’m mysterious. Great. I slipped the article back into the front cover, closing the notebook. I placed it just how it was before on her bedside table. I got up and straightened out the comforter.

                At least I knew she was thinking about me. At least I knew she wasn’t scared of me. At least I might have a shot at saving her…

                I went downstairs and did the best I could to clean up the mess I’d made with my shoes and me eating. I didn’t know where to put the First Aid kit so I left it where it was and prayed that Alexa would get home before her dad. Sudden panic shot through me. Wait. Where did Alexa say she was going? I didn’t want to admit it. I didn’t want to think about it, but I knew she was with Jay. I could feel it. As much as I wanted to stay in the safety of the house and wait for her to come home; I needed to know she was safe, I knew I had to leave. It was getting dark out. Her dad would be home.

                I carried my shoes down the hallway, reaching for the front door with my empty hand. I paused, taking notice of the closed door next to me. I retraced my steps in my mind, making a mental map of the house. There was another door to the same room through the living room. I pictured the closed door that my eyes had blurred over Alexa’s shoulder as I watched her fingers touch my face. It was like a chamber, guarded and unwelcoming. I could feel the secrets inside pull me toward the door. I set my shoes on the mat. It’ll only be a minute.

                I rested my fingers on the cool, metal door knob. My fingers were alien to it, but the metal still warmed under my grasp. I stood there, fighting with myself; I knew what I was doing was wrong, but I knew I was going to do it, nonetheless. By the time my curiosity had won, the knob had grown hot in my hand. I turned it gently, until it clicked and let me discover what the thick outer walls hid.

                I stepped inside onto the thick, splotchy carpet. It was an off-white color, with dots of blue, red, purple, and brown dancing along the tips, forming shapes in my eyes. My eyes followed the stacked boxes up the wall. The room really didn’t look like much. At least, it wouldn’t have looked like much if I hadn’t known too much.

                To any ordinary person the room would seem normal, comfortable, actually. The walls were a warm brown, laced with pictures, happy, family pictures. There was a whole table of pictures lined in neatly-kept rows. The table looked so out of place among the scattered boxes and rags left over from unpacking. I tip-toed over to the table, admiring the delicate memories trapped in a cheap, plastic frame. At first, I thought the frames held more posed pictures of Alexa, until I recognized the man holding the similar-looking woman by the waist. It was her dad.

                Each picture was similar to the first, fun pictures, serious pictures, action-shot pictures, but each withheld her parents from what must have been their teen years. I grinned as I imagined each picture’s story.

There were images above the table of the woman, Alexa’s mom. She was beautiful, just like her daughter. There was a larger image in between all of the others of her and Alexa. They were so happy, so free. They loved each other. The image forced a sadness upon me that made my legs weak. She was all Alexa had, all she’d ever loved. And now she was gone.

I knew what it felt like.

I gripped the edge of the table. I wondered what her mom would think of her now. I wondered how she’d cry when Jay finally had his way. I wondered who she’d blame…  

I stumbled out of the room, my thoughts dizzying me, closing the door behind me. I slipped my shoes onto my feet, sick with grief. I couldn’t stay in the house any longer, not with the suddenly-present feeling of anxiousness. The anxiety to escape filled me just as it filled every room in the house. It was the anxiety to escape, the desperation to forget, and it had become too familiar to me.

                Oh Alexa, please be careful. I hoped I wasn’t too late. Images of Layla walking out the door and memories of me sitting home alone waiting for her flashed through my mind. It could happen all over again. I might have just let it happen all over again…I thought, closing the front door behind me.