The Missing Monroe

Ch. 4 - Diary Extracts

‘Dahvie give it back!’ I chased Dahvie around the room, trying to get my diary back. I couldn’t have Jayy read it and find everything out.

‘What is in her anyway?’ asked Dahvie, trying to read it and hold it out my reach at the same time.

‘Nothing for you, now give it back!’

‘What, is it all girly diary stuff?’ he asked, attempting to turn the page.

‘No!’ I jumped up, trying to get it.

He laughed, and threw it over his shoulder, intending for it to just land on the floor, but instead he threw it too far and it landed in the sink.

‘NO!’ I ran over to the sink, but it was too late.

‘Dahvie, you absolute idiot!’ I cried.

Grabbing my leather jacket from where it was lying on the sofa, I ran out the door. I walked down the street, and caught the first bus I saw. Handing over the change, I sat down and watched the world pass by.

Soon, I got off, and noted the bus number. I walked down the street and found a small music store.

‘Heya. You need any help?’ asked the assistant as I entered.

He was about 18, with long black hair, and a pair of emerald eyes. He was rather tall, and had a small smile on his face. Dressed in the uniform of a black shirt and black jeans, he looked really nice.

‘I’m fine.’ I replied quietly.

‘Okay, holler if you need anything. I’m Jeremy, but you can call me J.’

‘Will do. I’m Roxie.’

I found a small corner, full of CD’s and music books. I ran my fingers along the plastic cases, when I heard the melody of a guitar. It drew me almost instantly to where it was coming from.

A back room. Inside was J, strumming an acoustic guitar, playing along to a song. It was beautiful. He was gently singing along, and the lyrics hit me hard.

‘Want a go?’ I jumped, not realising he had noticed me.

‘I’ve never played guitar before.’ I said shyly.

‘I’ll teach you then. C’mon.’

I took a deep breath and took his outstretched hand.

Jayy’s P.O.V

‘Roxie?’

I called her name. No answer. I stuck my head into the living room.

‘Roxie?’

Dahvie gave a small jump, looking at me. His eyes were red and there was a writing pad drying above the radiator.

‘You seen Roxie, Dahvie?’

‘She-She went out.’

‘What! Where?’

‘I-I don’t know. She stormed out, because I was mucking around and accidently threw her pad into the sink.

‘Dahvie you fricken’ idiot!” I snapped, furious and worried.

I glanced at her pad, and one word smacked me right in the face.

Sold.

I strode over, and found it was her diary. With trembling fingers, I began to read.

‘Dear Diary,

Another day, another new owner. He’s called Samuel, and is really violent. Of all the guys Marcus could have sold me to, he picks the nut-job. Really rough too, I found that out not long ago.