Chapter 20

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SHEANNE

"What?!" I half-shouted at Ariela after I heard what she just said. Am I hallucinating or something?

She sighed and picked up a book, or what I thought it was. "Look at this," she said and opened the pages. Oh, it was actually an album. I looked at the page she stopped at and only saw a sloppy handwriting throughout the page. "..this could help us."

"Where in the world did you find that?" I whispered to her while she's handling me the album.

"Doesn't matter. Just read all of that." She told me and went to pick up all of the scattered albums.

I sighed and went to the lone light projected from the wall, or was it a window?

I love him but it seems
like he changed.
He's not the brother I know,
he's just a monster.
A monster, I hate him.

--

It's that old man's fault.
My brother wouldn't have been
acting like this if not for him,
I hate him. I hate them.

--

He killed my mother!
He fucking killed my mother!
I don't know what to do,
I feel like I'm next.

As I flip to the next page, a strip of yellow paper slid down. Ariela picked it up and showed me its contents.

"Is that what I think it is?" I asked her with wide eyes.

She smiled. "An escape plan from this room. Well, the owner of the diary looks like the little girl from the pictures, and it's impossible for a little girl to actually engineer such escape route, so someone must have planned all of these all along."

"The little girl?"

"Here, look at the albums," she showed me the pictures. A happy family. A perfect one. Who would have thought..

"She's pitiful." I said my thoughts out loud.

I felt Ariela nod.

I can actually feel her agony. The feeling when you're so close to death, the feeling of losing your loved ones, the feeling of being alone.

"Now, I think we may have a chance to escape from that monster." Ariela said before heading to the door and peeking through the keyhole.

I breathed a sigh of relief. We're gonna escape. We have hope.

I was about to close the album when I came upon the last page, and what I saw brought horror to me.

There, with a lousy handwriting and blood smudged in it, I read the phrase which had been haunting me eversince he locked me up,

What did I ever do to deserve this?

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