2. Emmett #2
Honestly, he could’ve saved me the trip upstairs by going alone. I didn’t need to see that Angel threw the duvet to the floor again.
We are back in the kitchen where Spider places the box in the middle of the counter and then pushes it to me.
“Open it.”
I look up at him, knowing exactly what’s in there, but I pretend to be confused.
“What’s in there?”
“My sister’s diary. Open it!”
I stare at him with a faux-complicated look. “You want me to breach her privacy?”
Of course I’ve done that many, many times before, but Spider doesn’t need to know that.
“I want to show you something. Besides, if she suspects anything, she’ll only blame me. She hasn’t truly forgiven me for what I did back then.”
I don’t ask, but I remember that stormy day in the park when Angel and I made an unbreakable vow in the park, under a large tree by mixing our blood.
I reach for the box, open it, and then fish out the first diary I see on top. It’s locked, so I pass it to Spider.
I can easily open it, but if I’m going to sell the premise of ignorance about Angel’s deep thoughts scribbled within those pages, I have to keep acting the part of not knowing.
Spider scoffs, reaches for the diary, and picks the lock.
I watch as he flips through some pages, then he hands it to me.
“Read that!”
At first, Angel’s childish thoughts from years ago are still evident in the old pages that show obvious signs of wear and tear, being read over and over again.
She writes about wanting to be normal like other kids that have parents.
About missing her mother.
Her immense guilt over her grandfather’s death is written every five lines.
She describes her grandmother’s sadness, and her brother’s coldness and the silence that prevailed after they lost her grandfather.
And then, ‘ the cold green eyes.’
The thing in my chest starts pounding with vicious, hard knocks that break my breathing streak.
Just four words, but I already know she’s writing about me.
I’ve read all this before, after I found out she started writing a journal.
That’s when I started breaking into her room years ago, to see if she remembers my mother and what happened that night.
Back then, she’d just repeat the same crappy, heartache shit, but she wrote these four words only once.
As if scared to write any further.
She never wrote about how we met.
Or about our conversation that night.
Nor about me egging her on to jump and just end it.
She also never wrote about the bodies that dropped dead in the snow.
And she also didn’t divulge about us jumping over the cliff into the raging, cold sea to escape the men that had come to unalive her.
She never once wrote about that for some reason, as if she wanted to keep that deep in her bones like I do, so I flip through to the last page I read and then move to the new stuff, only to pause as if I’ve been electrocuted by a million megavolts.
The thing in my chest chills immediately as I stare in shock at the words no longer written with some kind of glittery purple ink as before.
These new words are now in bloody-red ink.
There’s a sense of urgency in the writing.
A sense of confusion.
Loss.
Apprehension.
Fear.
And something else that feels a lot like desperation .
July 29
We left in the middle of the night.
Without saying goodbye to anyone, even Grammy.
Samuel said if we stayed, we would lose Grammy.
He hasn’t forgiven me for Gramps’s death.
I guess this is what I deserve.
Being tossed away…
Unlovable.
Unwanted.
After this entry that shocks me to the core, she starts writing other things, including the loneliness and suffering of being exiled so far away from home.
She describes her nightmares where she sees her grandfather, blurry images of the other cars, the sounds of a screaming woman...
Everything is so acutely that it feels like I’ve entered into her agony-filled world.
Dazed, I read further.
August 5
I hate it here!
But… I can’t complain to my brother.
I deserve this suffering.
I deserve to be alone.
I deserve the nightmares.
I deserve to be alone.
But… I can’t forget him.
The entries stop for a while, as if she abandoned her emotions.
Until the next entry stops me dead in my tracks.
September 3
Samuel came to visit for the first time.
I got to talk to Grammy for the first time too.
So, I don’t tell them about the tests they do on me here.
They say something is wrong with me and they want to monitor me.
But they don’t need to.
I already know there’s something wrong with me.
Why else would my own parents leave me?
Grammy hates me.
Samuel is annoyed with me.
They both said I should stay here.
I guess they’ve always wanted me gone…
I fight like hell not to glare at the man standing in front of me.
But my fists ball up of their own volition… the need to pummel the crap out of someone taking over me.
Why the hell did they abandon her?
“I know what you’re thinking,” Samuel says in a low, distressed tone. “But what choice did I have? Don’t forget whose fault it was.”
That reminder is like a bucket of ice-cold water has just been dumped over my head.
However, I can’t dismiss the loneliness my Angel felt at that time, captured within the pages of this worn-out journal.
“You still should’ve stayed with her,” I grit out. “She was just a child!”
“Yes,” Samuel snaps back. “She was just a child that was forced to leave her home and everything she knows! Read on, jerk!”
So, I do.
September 22
I finally asked my brother why we left.
He said it’s because THAT family is evil.
He says I’m an idiot for even asking about that boy.
But the boy with the cold, green eyes… he can’t be evil.
To that boy, dying is nothing.
Life is meaningless.
But… why did he hold me tight when we jumped over the cliff?
Why did he accompany me and say he’ll be my person?
Isn’t it because he wants to live?
And if I’m gone, how can I show him it’s possible for him too?
I have to go back!!
I want to be his person.
But first, I have to remember!
Samuel said we will get revenge.
The boy with the cold, sharp green eyes also wants revenge…
Is it for the woman from the accident?
What happened that night?
Hold the fuck up.
Does Angel remember?
I grip the journal as if I want to physically enter her memories.
October 1
Today a new lady came and said I should open up.
I don’t want to open up… not to anyone.
Just him.
The boy with the cold, sharp green eyes.
Dead eyes that pulse with so much life.
Seeing all of me.
Burning down every secret, exposing my thoughts and dreams.
He knows things I’ve never told anyone, not even to myself.
But… will I ever see him again?
Does he ever think of me?
I hope so…
Yes, Angel. I think of you. In every single moment of my life.
I know you.
I see you.
You’re everything…
Unable to stop myself from consuming these aching musings, I keep reading.
October 15
I received a beautifully wrapped packaged today!
It looks like a gift, but the name of the sender wasn’t on there.
Could it be… from him?
I’m so excited I could burst with joy!
He does think of me! Like I think of him…
Right?
Right, baby. I carry you with me in all my heartbeats. How can I forget you?
Flipping through the diary that’s sparsely written, with some suspicious tear stains already dried and crisp, I ache all over.
When I flip over to the next page, a cold chill runs down my spine at the acute emotions shown by the shakily written entries.
November 9
What’s the point of living when it’s so… cold?
It’s lonely.
But that’s not new.
There’s a Bible verse Grammy used to tell me…
‘Do not awaken love before its time.’
But when is the right time?
Or we’re just not meant to be…
That Bible verse is from Songs of Solomon Chapter 8:4.
My heart stutters in my chest, but I keep going. I dare not stop now.
December 25
‘Isolated.’
‘Left behind.’
‘Abandoned.’
These are the notes they write about me.
Why does no one want me?
Am I that repulsive?
What’s wrong with me that I’m always ignored and unwanted?
Always in the background. Unable to fit in.
Am I so unlovable?
I want to die.
My entire body weakens with pain.
She was suffering this much?
How could she believe that she’s unlovable? That no one wants her?
Without warning, the entries take on a sudden shift that leaves me reeling.
March 13
Today, they said having goals makes life a bit more bearable.
Expectation for the future produces hope.
And hope does not disappoint.
I only have hope for three things:
1. Become a doctor and save his life.
2. Find my parents to mend Grammy’s broken heart.
3. Become Mrs. Emmett Easton and be with him forever.
Holy God in Heaven.
Angel… she wants to be… my wife?
An indescribable feeling immediately powers through my body, scattering all the frustration and anger from before, replacing it all with feelings that take my breath away.
Become Mrs. Emmett Easton.
I look up and stare at the quietly bristling man in front of me.
I immediately think of the girl sleeping upstairs. She wrote these words.
Evidently, she was thinking of me… just like I was consumed with needing her back.
Immediately, an eerily crystal-clear image of Angel walking down an aisle to me, dressed all in sparkling white, wearing my diamond rings, with her breathtaking, heart-stopping gorgeous smile only for me, fills my head.
The thing in my chest clenches so painfully that I clutch my chest, pressing hard.
My breath becomes stilted and labored.
“Emmett,” Samuel says, clearly alarmed, but I ignore him.
Marrying Angel…
She wants to be my wife…
Feeling greedy, I clear my throat and read the March 13 entry again.
I don’t know which year it was when she wrote this, but I read over and over again before moving to the next entry.
April 7
I’m going to do everything I can to get back to him.
I hope he doesn’t hate me for leaving so suddenly.
But I’ll apologize and we’ll get back on track.
I haven’t forgotten our unbreakable vows from that rainy day.