Dear Reader

A young man finds a dusty notebook in an old book store. It turns out to be a handwritten diary, depicting a girls life of love and heartbreak.

'Dear reader,

You don’t know me but you’re about to. If you had a choice, you’d definitely run screaming, your hands over your ears to drown me out. This story isn’t your rainbow. It’s more like the nightmare from your childhood that you repress, the irrational fears coming to haunt you, taking you back to that sobbing child that you had tried so hard to forget.

I’d like to say sorry for what you’re about to learn but this is your choice. If you continue reading this " you’re brave and good luck.

Fears are a funny thing aren’t they?

What part of your mind makes you shiver when faced with a spider or makes you feel nauseous at the top of a tall building or leaves you in a cold sweat when you wake from a nightmare full of scenes that could never possibly happen?

Scientists and psychologists have examined the behaviour of fear for centuries, but could it ever really be explained? I guess it could, if you believe in the conventional science of the human mind.

But what if there was something else? Something deep and dark hidden in the very depths of our minds, something that each individual is born with. I suppose it doesn’t really matter does it? We all feel fear, it’s a part of being human.

My question to you is this " what happens when that fear goes away?

What does it mean when you no longer feel fear? Is that part of your brain switched off and permanently damaged?

It’s funny, you’d think when you’re faced with possible death, you’d be afraid right? You’d be afraid of the pain, of the thought of leaving those you love behind, of the thought of never seeing the world in all its mysterious beauty.

I didn’t feel that. I felt relief, like I’d finally been granted the wish that I had longed for for so long.

Oh reader, I hope you’re not the faint hearted type. If you are, I apologize and will give you a warning " this story won’t be for you. If you decide to keep reading out of pure curiosity, I thank you.

You don’t know me, but you’re about to....'


***********************


He didn’t know what compelled him to walk into the little book shop. Maybe it was the beauty of the gold letters framing the dimly lit window, the display of old books too much of a temptation for a curious mind.

Maybe it was the way the gentle old woman had smiled at him when she had caught his eye. Her smile promising secrets and riddles that he could get lost in. He was always a fan of the unexplained.

Maybe it was the fact that he’d lived in this town all his life and he had never seen this book shop before.

Probably a combination of all of those. It was new and he couldn’t help his curiosity and before he knew it, he was browsing the dusty shelves.

He could feel the eyes of the old woman following him as he scanned the dozens of paperbacks and hardbacks. It felt like she was waiting for something but what, he didn’t know.

The books were old, some in languages that had long been forgotten. He pulled a random thick black book out of the shelf, opening the pages to see the unreadable scrawl. He couldn’t help but wonder what the words were saying, what he would learn if he could only read the contents.

He placed the book back as gently as he could, not wanting to damage the treasured pages. He looks around, noticing a low and very old, brown armchair nestled snugly in the corner.

He decided to pick a book at random, taking a seat in the armchair that was surprisingly very comfortable. He sighed, sinking further into the chair, feeling his aching muscles finally being soothed after the strenuous day.

He opened the book without reading the title, wanting to be surprised with the contents.

From page one, he could already tell that the main character had suffered a tremendous loss, something that had impacted their life significantly.

He could already feel the pain, the suffering and before he knew it, he was half way through and close to tears at the passionate story of an orphaned young man who had found love in music.

He could relate to that, music was his saviour too. Writing lyrics and producing beats helped him through his everyday turmoil, allowing him to express himself through his songs.

He jumps a mile when a hand lands on his shoulder, the book slipping out of his hands to land with a soft thump on the floor. He turns, spotting the old woman, who was giving him a gentle smile.

“I’m sorry dear, but I’m closing now.” She said, the soft, sweet voice surprising him.

He checked his watch. Wow, when did it get so late? His mother would be annoyed with him again, not that he overly cared.

He nodded at the woman, apologising with a gentle bow of his head. She chuckled, moving to the door with a set of jingling keys.

He bent to pick up the book, squinting when a light flashed in his eyes.
He raised a hand, blocking the light and trying to find the source of the random beam. He spotted a book, hidden underneath the old wooden bookshelf.

Either someone had dropped it and not known or it had been placed there for a reason. His curiosity had been peaked.

His fingers could just barely reach the little book, the silver spine having been the cause of the flash of light from the suns reflected light.

As he held the book in his hands, he didn’t understand the sudden rush of adrenaline. He felt like he had meant to find this but really, how silly did that sound?

Still, he was curious.

He turns the cover of the blank silver book, noticing a handwritten pair of initials in the top left corner.

L.P

He turned the pages, realising that it wasn’t a book but a notepad and the pages were full with beautiful cursive writing.

The pages were crumpled, clearly having been used alot.

'You don't know me, but you're about to....'

He was so intrigued but it was closing time. Surely the woman wouldn't mind if he took it with him?

He turned to face her but her back was to him, almost like she was doing it purposely. He'd never been one to break the law but he didn't even think about it when he put the book in his jacket pocket, the small object easily fitting inside.

He walks out quickly, bidding the woman a gentle farewell accompanied with one of his signature wide smiles.

She smiles back, closing the door and bolting it after him. He waits until the shutter is drawn before he runs home.

As expected, his mother was angry. Sending a barrage of questions his way at his late arrival. He ignored them, locking himself in his room.

He sat himself on his bed, the book perched in his lap as he eagerly read the words.

He couldn't decide if this writer was young or old, the words showing someone wise and knowledgeable but he knew one thing, the words had the power to grip him.

At the end of the first entry, he was gripped and he wanted to know everything.

Did not feel fear when faced with death?
Was this writer depicting their own death?

He had read many stories, including true stories that depicted the horrors of abuse, the physical pain of heartbreak, the twisted minds of serial killers but never had he been so intrigued as he was now.

He settled more comfortably on the bed, fluffing his pillow and turning on his bedside lamp, the soft amber glow giving the perfect atmosphere to read.

He was ready, ready to know this writers tale.

He would soon learn he wasn't ready for the heartbreak that this little book would bring.

******************

'Dear reader,

I've always been the quiet one, the introvert, the outcast and I've always been okay with that.

My parents were never the affectionate type so naturally, I assumed that was the way humans were supposed to be.

You can imagine my surprise when I entered high school and all of sudden, I had females wanting to befriend me and males showing interest that I'd rather be placed elsewhere.

After a while, people had learnt to leave me alone and I was definitely okay with that.

I was more content with books and music, they were kinder and more understanding than humans who all seemed to be alike, all wanting the same things, all wanting to fit in.

I don't know how it all changed. I went from ignoring every ones presence to focusing on one singular and it happened before I even knew it.

I don't know what it was about the pale skinned boy with black hair and grey eyes that had me completely captivated.

Maybe it was his quiet beauty, the boy always surrounded by people who never stopped conversing but never talking himself.

Maybe it was the aura of him, the way he carried himself so strongly, his 'I don't give a s**t' aura shrouding him in mystery.

Maybe it was those beautiful grey eyes. Even when he was glaring, those eyes still held the pain of someone who had been through alot, had seen alot of pain and suffering.
The eyes held loneliness, held sadness. The grey orbs were so striking I could feel their power from across a packed cafeteria.

There's an old japanese proverb that I've always loved - Me wa kokoru no kagami - the eyes are the mirror of the soul.
You can lie with your lips, but your eyes, they betray you, they tell the real story.

I knew him, well, I knew his reputation. He was notorious in the school, a bad boy with a killer glare and a sharp tongue that could send even the biggest guys running for cover. The one that every female wanted to be close to and every guy wanted to be like.

I wouldn't say I was afraid of him but I knew to stay far away from him. I could sense the danger coming off of him in waves, like a pheromone that couldn't help but draw me in.

How did I end up here? How did I end up falling for a guy I didn't know anything about apart from his name?

How could I fall for someone when love had always been such an abstract concept to me? I could never even tell my parents that I loved them, the words sounding foreign and unfamiliar on my tongue and leaving a bad taste in my mouth.

I made a promise to myself, to never get near this boy that made my mind spin like I was getting a fever, to avoid those piercing eyes that held a hypnotic spell.

Oh, how foolish I was. I learnt a valuable lesson; you can't run from the power of fate.'

******************

Closing the book with a despondent sigh, he leaned back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling with blank eyes.

There were a thousand questions spinning in his head but all he kept thinking about was this lonely girl, staring at the object of her affection from afar.

He could imagine that it must've been confusing for someone who has never felt that before. Why he felt like he needed to help her, he didn't know but all he wanted was to rush to her side, envelop her in a hug and whisper over and over that she'll be okay.

How stupid was that? Shaking his head, he realised how much of an idiotic sentiment that was. He didn't even know her name and to top it off, he didn't know if this book was years old.

The writer could be an old woman by now, this diary long forgotten. He wished he would get a chance to talk to her, to hear the story from her own lips.

Her words written down were so passionate so surely, her voice would be even more so. He imagined she would be soft, in need of protection and warmth.

It sounded like she never got that from her parents and he knew exactly how that felt, which is why he could understand that it was a lonely existence.

The only difference between him and this mystery girl, was he had friends. He loved school, he loved to learn but due to his good looks and friendly disposition, he was never picked on, never called a nerd or left out.

This poor girl had no one, no friends to talk to and a family that seemingly didn't care. It was cruel and it angered him.

He desperately hoped that this girl had eventually had love, had a friend to rely on but he realised he was grasping at false hope.

He could pray for her all he liked, it wouldn't make a difference would it?

Sighing, he closed his tired eyes, clutching the book tightly in his grasp.

He agreed with what she said, you can't run from the power of fate and he felt like it was fate he had found the diary. It didn't matter how silly it sounded, he was going to find her, even if she was no longer alive.

She had to know that one person understood, that one person knew everything she wrote about with aching clarity.

He knew it all and he simply wanted the chance to tell her she wasn't alone.

*****************

'Dear reader,

I don't know how it happened, I swear to you, I don't.

How did I get here? I have no idea and my head hurt from trying to figure it out.

Months of watching from afar, my eyes following his movements and learning his little quirks that he probably didn't even realise he was doing.

For instance, the pink tongue that rested on the plump lower lip when he was concentrating - it was distracting.

The slender fingers that would tap a random tune upon the wooden desks when he was bored - it was endearing.

The dry chuckle he let out when he was amused but refusing to show it - it was intriguing.

The small smirk when he caught a female looking his way or whenever he was complimented - it was unfair.

How dare he. How dare he make me fall. What was he doing to me? I was changing and it was because of him.

Never before had I cared of my appearance, my hair always tied up, my glasses hiding my make up less face, my clothes baggy enough to hide my curves.

Now, I rose from bed an hour earlier every day before school to get ready. It started as little things, the clothes fitting me more snugly after a very embarrassing conversation with my mother that will forever scar me.
The hair now cascading over my shoulders in gentle waves.

Then, it got bigger. I ditched my thick glasses for dainty contacts, my eyes now feeling incredibly exposed for anyone to read.

I began to wear make up, the blush leaving me with a slight pinkness to my otherwise pale cheeks. The mascara highlighting my inquisitive brown eyes that now seemed to sparkle.

People began to notice, the students in my class all turning to gape at me then murmuring together in hushed tones that they believed I couldn't hear.

It wasn't just my appearance but also my attitude that began to change.

I would no longer ignore the people who tried to converse with me. I would respond, to the surprised faces who would beam and start a conversation that didn't seem to have any real meaning.

Why I did this, I really don't know. The attention was on me but not from the one person whom I desperately wanted to notice.

He continued the same, the same bad boy with a reputation of violence and wreckless behavior.

Nothing changed, so why was I still doing this? He didn't care, he would never notice the plain girl with stars in her eyes who followed him like he was the messiah.

How did I get here?'

***************

The book slid out of his hands as his door was slammed open. He turned to the source of the interruption.

"You're going to be late." His mother yelled obnoxiously.

His nose scrunched up in distaste. That shrill voice never failed to get him riled up. Standing up, he swung his backpack over his shoulder, putting the book in his blazer pocket for safekeeping.

"I'm going."

He pushed past the woman at the door, not sparing her a single glance. He could hear the tut and the cursing that followed him out of the house; a daily ritual.

The walk to school was always refreshing. The beautiful pathways were overgrown with wild flowers, lillies and daisies.
The smell of lavender was always so overpowering in the summer months, the breeze feeling good against his overheated skin.

It was strange to think that he only had another few months of walking this route. He would be graduating soon and off to college.

Thankfully, an out of state college, that would serve as an excellent excuse to not come back here so often.

He would miss the town, he really would but miss his mother he would not. For that reason, he couldn't wait to leave.

His mind couldn't help but wonder to the mysterious writer of the book that felt heavy in his pocket. Did she ever leave this town or was she here all her life?

There were so many questions he would ask if he was ever granted the chance. He wanted to know everything, to know her so well that she essentially became a part of him.

Was this what love felt like? Did love make you so frustratingly curious about your partner? Wanting you to know every detail, from their likes and dislikes, to their fears and dreams, to their regrets.

That was ridiculous. He didn't know anything about this writer. Why was his heart getting so invested in her life?

Words really did have the power to move you, to change your life, to change your perception on how you perceive the world and it's inhabitants.

It was thrilling and frightening at the same time. It could lead to great things but also great danger and he wasn't sure what this book he found would bring him.

Honestly, he didn't really care. He was already invested, already hooked on the words that were imprinted in his memory.

The fear was already overtaking him. He wasn't sure if he would be able to handle how this story would end but it was too late. Nothing would stop him from reading, not even the frantic beating of his heart that seemed to want to escape out of his chest.

It was like a drug. He couldn't wait to read more, so much so that he practically sprinted to school to sit in the empty library.

He had a little time before classes started so he settled himself more comfortably on the hard chair, opening the book and holding his breath, preparing himself for what was about to come.

**************

'Dear reader,

It was taking its toll on me, wearing me down until I could no longer put up a fight.

I tried, I really did try but it didn't seem to matter. The harder I fought against it, the more I found myself clustered in it.

I was gasping for air, desperately trying to keep my head afloat within the perilous waters that were weighing me down like bricks.

He noticed. After months, he finally noticed.

Was it wishful thinking on my part? Was I imagining the little smiles he seemed to be throwing my way?

Even if it was my imagination, I found myself unable to control my expressions. I would blush under his gaze, ducking my head like a frightened child who was being scolded.

Now the object of my adoration had noticed, I was unable to breathe. The intensity of his gaze was overwhelming, the piercing grey eyes seeming to see right through me into my very soul.

How could this happen to me? How did I manage to get so obviously infatuated with a guy who barely knew of my existence.

He knew, wow did he know. The little smiles transformed into full blown smirks. The smugness on his face so obviously informing me that he knew of my feelings.

He was enjoying himself, seeming to exploit me at every opportunity he could.

He began to sit nearer, the little puffs of breath he released never failed to get under my skin.

Those hands, the beautiful slender fingers tapping softly seemed so loud in my ears.

He would catch me staring at his hands, sliding them along the desk in an elaborate dance that had me transfixed.

Since when did anyone find hands attractive? Apparently I did. What the hell was wrong with me?

In half a year, he had warmed himself into my cold heart, leaving me with the feeling of heartburn.

It was unhealthy, my body naturally craving his. It was borderline obsession and I knew it would only get worse.

Oh, how right I was about that. He used that obsession to his advantage.

I was pure once, my heart cold but pure and now I had felt the warmth that seemed to burn, leaving my heart covered in scars that was slowly killing me.

It was too late, I was under his spell and completely under his control. It was like a vice and the harder I struggled the tighter it became.

It wasn't what love was supposed to feel like was it? Then again, I didn't understand it. How could someone like me, who had never felt love, even compare it to anything?

It burned, it was physical pain but I felt it didn't matter. As long as that smile was still being directed towards me, I was content to burn, content to let him rip away the wings that had once been my protection.

I was in a dance with the devil, still fighting but losing the battle.'

*************

Rubbing his temples with his fingers, he sat back in the chair, hating the noise of the loud chiming bell that had interrupted him.

The more he read, the more he felt sorry for this girl. How could a guy exploit someone's feelings like that?

She sounded so small, so fragile and so naive to the feelings that were stirring.

Sighing, he made his way slowly to the classroom, already wanting the day to end.

He found himself unable to concentrate on the lessons that he usually enjoyed.

Everyone noticed his lack of attention span today, his friends glancing at him in curiosity but he wasn't in the mood to answer their questions.

The usual chatty atmosphere was replaced with awkward silences, the only sound being clearing of throats.

His hand kept tapping, the feel of the book in his pocket growing heavier. It was a drug he couldn't enough of.

The last thing on his mind was school, the hours dragging along until he felt like he'd been there for days.

"What's up with you man?"

Turning to his best friend, he raised an eyebrow at the random question.

"Nothing."

"Don't lie, you've been spacing out all day."

He had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. "Just have a lot of my mind."

"I don't like you being quiet, it's not like you."

"I can be quiet." He replied defensively.

"I've known you for years, you don't have the ability to keep quiet."

Before he could reply, his best friend was pulled away.

It was true, he was never the type to be quiet, he was always saying something or humming a tune.

The book in his pocket was changing him, just like the writer changed herself.

He really wasn't sure if it was a good thing or not. All he knew, was he had to know how the story ended and he hoped that it didn't end badly for her.

When the day finally ended, he skipped his usual football game with his friends, choosing to go to the bookstore again where he had found the book.

It looked the same, the gold letters twinkling brightly in the sun, inviting him into the mysterious store.

The little bell chimed as he opened the door and it was the same old woman behind the counter who greeted him with the same soft smile as before.

If she recognised him, she didn't show it.

He went back to the old brown armchair, lowering himself into the soft cushioned seat that seemed to mould itself around his body, making him feel at home.

The book perched on his lap, the weight feeling so familiar in his hands even after one day.

The pages were so inviting, the beautiful cursive words looking like it was wrote by a professional calligrapher.

Closing his eyes, he tried to imagine the writer. Maybe a brunette, with dark eyes that could see the beautiful and the dark in the world.

If she was never noticed, maybe she was small, needing protection from someone bigger.

Sighing, he opened the pages, settling down comfortably to read more. He felt like he was getting to a climax. A good or bad one he didn't know, but he had to find out.

****************

'Dear reader,

Parties. Never my idea of a good time.

Why was it the social convention to go to someone's house, drink even though you were technically underage and end up making bad decisions that could potentially ruin your future?

Apparently it was, not that I knew anything about it, until now that is.

I don't know how they had convinced me but my one friend, whom I actually could tolerate, had convinced me. Mostly because of the appearance of a certain boy, which of course swayed me.

I hated how she could read me already. I didn’t like being so exposed.

It was loud, the people all talking over each other, shouting to hear others over the deafening music.

It was dirty, couples grinding on the dance floor or making out against the walls. Cups strewn all over the floor. I felt for whoever had to clean up afterwards.

However, the noise, the dirt, the smell, all went away when he entered the room.

Without his uniform, he was radiant. The black jeans and tee highlighting how pale his skin was. The lights seemed to make him glow.

My eyes followed him, locked onto those beautiful plump lips everytime he took a sip from the red cup held in his slender hands.

He caught me, again. That smirk, it was secret pleasure but just once, I wondered what it would be like to get a genuine smile from him.

The power of his gaze was making me feel faint and the heat in the room was definitely not helping.

I made my exit. Taking in deep gulps of the fresh night air didn't seem to help me get my breathing back to normal.

How could he affect me like this? He was my drug, the one thing that I craved more of but would never truly have.

I felt rather than heard another presence, spinning around to face the intruder.

It was him, those eyes sparkling with mischief that made me want to run, made me want to cover myself from those prying eyes.

Before I knew it, I was backed up into the wall, his arms caging me, his breath fanning over my face, his scent working itself up into my sinuses, leaving me completely at his mercy.

"I see you watching me."

Oh wow, his voice. That deep voice that was gruff, sending shivers down my spine at the close proximity.

"When did you get so cute?"

I couldn't answer, words were failing me. I was too overwhelmed, the new sensation having a paralysing effect.

"I've never had anyone look at me the way you do."

I didn't believe that. He had a different girl all the time. His playboy attitude was practically legendary in the school.

"I know you want me."

He wasn't wrong. By God, was he not wrong. I wanted him so badly. My body craving his like I had been starved all my life, just waiting for his touches.

"I want you too."

This was whispered against my ear, the words feeling so powerful, confusing me completely.

The hands that I had always admired were roaming my body. They were cold but I felt the sensation burning me. I hoped it would scar, leaving me with the memories of his touch.

Why I went with it, I really had no clue. I couldn't think, he had overtaken every rational thought, resulting in me melting against him, completely pliant under his ministrations.

It was a bad idea, the alcohol was strong on his breath, his eyes unfocused as he stared at me.

I didn't care, I had craved this for so long and now he was here, in my arms, touching me and allowing me to touch him in return.

It was wrong, so wrong but it was too late. I was under his control and I knew that after tonight, there would be no chance of me getting away.'

**************

"I recognise that book."

Looking up, he raised a brow at the old woman.

"You know this book?" He asked.

"I do." She nodded, reaching out to touch the silver binds.

He sat up, completely focused on her.

"You wouldn't happen to know the owner would you?"

"I used to." She sighed sadly. "Such a pretty little thing but so sad. She used to come here all the time to read. She was the reason I bought that chair, she always used to sit on the floor."

His hands stroked along the brown leather, almost as if he could feel the girls presence with him.

"When was the last time she came here?"

"Oh, it was years ago. I did always wonder what happened to her. One day, she just stopped coming." The woman said sadly, eyes gazing into the distance like she was picturing the memory.

"Did you know her name?" He asked breathlessly, feeling like he was close to finding out exactly who the girl was.

The woman frowned. "I think it was Lily, I remember because they were her favourite flowers."

"Lily." He whispered.

The name felt so familiar on his tongue. Maybe now he knew her name, he could find out something about her and see if she was still around.

"Did you know her well?"

"No, she was so quiet, so reserved. She barely spoke." the woman shook her head.

He sighed, feeling disappointed at the lack of information.

"She went to your school I believe."

His head shot up, his eyes widening. "She did?"

"Yes, I remember the crest." She gestured to his blazer pocket.

Smiling from ear to ear, he stood up, bowing his head to the shocked woman. "Thank you."

Running out of the store, he headed for his school, hoping that the headteacher was still around.

Why was he doing this? He really didn't understand it, he just wanted to know more. He wanted to see her for real, to hear her voice and see for himself if she was really okay.

It was his mission and he was determined to see it through to the end.

***************

'Dear reader,

Pain. Not the kind of pain that goes away when it heals but the kind of pain that stays with you at all times. The kind of pain that leaves a hole in your heart.

Ever since the party, it had continued. He pretended not to know me while at school, his attitude the same.

However, he changed when we were alone. He would come to me, sometimes smelling of alcohol so strongly it made me nauseous.

I never once turned him down. I would let him do as he pleased, simply feeling so grateful that he had chosen me.

He hadn't really, I was just a toy. A plaything that he used to vent his anger, his sadness and it was all taking its toll on me.

I was being worn down. His worries being transferred on to me and the weight was starting to press on me, like gravity was pushing at my shoulders, wanting me to disappear.

Everytime I felt myself wanting to break it off, he would show up, that smile on his face, his eyes glinting with mischief and I would fall under his spell.

No matter how much it hurt, how many tears I cried, how many bruises I would carry, I couldn't let go. No, I wouldn't let go.

I believed I could change him, could help him get his life back on track. Maybe it was a fools thinking but I wanted so badly to see that genuine smile.

He got worse, showing up with cuts, the blood dripping off his face to land on the floor with a soft splash.

I would clean him, listen to that heavy breathing and mumble of cuss words. I would beg him to stop, beg him to get help.

He would shoot me a glare, telling me to mind my own business.

There were times when I felt I was getting through to him. He would show me his weak side at three in the morning, the him that was raw, that was real and vulnerable.

He would let out his worries, tell me stories of the life he wanted to live so badly. I would promise to help make that happen, not that he would listen.

He would eventually fall asleep, his body naturally curling around me so I felt protected, loved even.

I wasn't loved. He couldn't care less about me. I was just a tool for him, one that could easily be replaced.

I wouldn't let that happen, I would stay with him. Even when the moment comes that he tells me to leave, I will stay by his side.

I was unconditionally in love with him. Completely enraptured with his entire being.

I was content to let him have all the control, to let him break me until I was the shell of my former self.

The cold me had disappeared, leaving a trembling, sad little girl in its wake. I wanted to break, to run from the man who was killing me.

I couldn't. I wouldn't. I was trapped.'

************

Running to the school, the sweat had dripped off him, leaving his uniform soaked.

He had made it just in time. The headmaster was just about to leave, the door to his car open and the man climbing into the vehicle.

"Wait!"

He had yelled so loudly, the headmaster had jumped, whirling around like he had to protect himself.

"Mr.Park, what are you still doing here?"

"Sorry sir, but I really need to ask you a question." He replied while panting.

The headmaster sighed, standing to face his student with his arms folded. "What is it?"

"A girl named Lily used to attend this school. Do you remember her at all?"

"Mr.Park, I have had alot of students here over the years." The headmaster sighs.

"She was quiet, reserved, dark hair and always got good grades. A good girl."

"Lily you say? That does sound familiar." He frowns. "It sounds like a student of mine from years ago."

"You know her?"

"The Lily I can remember was a good girl, until her last year that is."

"What happened to her?" He half begged.

"She dropped out of school in her last year. Completely disappeared from what I heard. Probably because of that bad egg of a boyfriend."

"You wouldn't happen to know where he is would you?"

He was grasping at false hope now.

"He used to work at the garage in town, whether he still does, I don't know."

"Thank you sir." He bowed his head politely, allowing the headmaster to get into his vehicle.

He watches until the car turns out of sight. Sighing, he sinks into the grass, taking deep breaths.

What the hell was he doing? What could he possibly achieve by finding her boyfriend? Maybe he would know where she was.

He couldn't believe that she had went to his school, had walked the same halls that he walked everyday.

Why he wanted to find her so badly, he really couldn't figure it out. What would he even say when he saw her?

Oh, I read your diary, I know how hard you had it and I wanted to say sorry.

Even to him, that sounded lame. Even so, he wanted to see her, to see if her life now was better.

He wanted it to be better for her. He hoped with all his might that she had gotten away from that poisonous guy and lead a happy life.

Shaking his head, he knew that it couldn't possibly be true. He was worried, worried for someone he had never met, for someone who may or may not be still alive.

Standing up, he took a deep breath. Maybe if could find the guy, he could find her.

That was the only plan he had at the minute. It may not be a good one but it was all he had.

****************

Here he was, standing in front of the only garage in town. It was familiar, he walked past it everyday on his way to school.

Was he walking past the guy from the diary this whole time?

He leant against the wall, watching the staff bustle around a vehicle they were working on.

He couldn't spot one with black hair. Did that mean he no longer worked here?

Steering himself, he pushed his body off the wall, walking into the garage with his head held high.

Am old man with kind blue eyes looked up from a clustered desk.

"May I help you?"

"I'm looking for someone who used to work here." He replied politely. "He has black hair and grey eyes."

The old man narrowed his eyes. "What has he done now?"

"Nothing, he is an old friend and I just wanted to say hello." He lied easily.

"An old friend?" He looked him up and down. " You're just a high schooler."

Before he could reply, the old man had risen from the desk, walking round to fix him with a dark look.

"I don't care what your real business with him is." He says lowly. "He's not in today."

"I don't suppose you know where I could find him?"

The man sighs, looking torn for a moment.
"I don't know what he does or where he goes and frankly, I don't want to know. However, he sometimes goes to the church but you didn't hear that from me."

"Thank you." He nods his head, proceeding to walk away.

"Hey kid!"

He turns back, tilting his head.

"I don't know what you want with him but he's not the same man he used to be. I hope you remember that."

The old man looked so sincere, he couldn't help but feel guilty. He hated the guy from the diary so much but he really didn't know anything about him.

He nodded again, giving the man a sincere smile. "I will." He promises.

Leaving the garage, he realised how bad his head was pounding.

He had learnt so much today, it was all so overwhelming. He knew her name.

Lily.

So fragile, so soft and in need of protection.

He hoped the old man was right, that the guy had changed for the better and finally treated Lily with kindness and love.

She deserved to have some happiness, to have someone who would love her, not hurt her.

Sighing, he started on the walk to the church. Why the guy would hang out at a church was completely baffling but who was he to judge?

Churches were meant to peaceful, were meant to accept anyone in time of need and offer sanctuary.

Maybe this guy needed that after the life he had lead.

He hoped the guy hadn't figured that out too late.

Upon arrival, the church was empty. The glass windows casting a glow of lighting upon the old cobbled floors.

It looked so inviting, he sat at the front pew, staring up at the huge cross that hung low on the ceiling.

The eyes seemed to stare back at him, judging him and his character.

He had always been apprehensive about the church, something about the building made him shiver and remember every bad thought he ever had.

Still, it was quiet. Quiet enough for him to think, for him to read.

Taking the book out of his pocket, he opened the pages, smoothing his fingers over the cursive writing.

He could picture her, the imagined version of Lily sitting in that brown chair in the bookstore, writing down her thoughts.

Why was the book left there? Did she drop it on accident or leave it on purpose?

Only one way to really find out.

Tilting his head, his eyes locked onto the words, letting them take over his mind completely.

************

'Dear reader,

He was changing. He had finally begun to show me who he really was.

Those eyes, usually so cold were now showing me warmth, showing me affection.

He would no longer be stinking of alcohol when he showed up. He would be clean, be sober and grace me with that soft smile that finally started to seem genuine.

He was beginning to reveal things about himself that I once dreamed of him doing. The more I found out, the more I fell.

Oh, how I loved him so. Even with that love, there was still a part of him that was holding back, like he was afraid of giving himself to me completely.

It was okay, I could wait. I would wait for him for an eternity if I had to.

I didn't realise at the time how fleeting my time with him would be. Then again, we never know what the future holds for us.

Why I decided to walk to the church that day, I don't know. There was something in me, telling me I had to go.

There he was, the man I loved, backed into a wall by a tall man who looked old enough to be his father.

I didn't think when I saw the flash of silver. I ran, putting myself in the pathway of the knife to deflect it from him.

Not him. You can't hurt him. Hurt me instead.

Pain, it wasn't as bad I thought. It was like a burning sensation that began to work itself up through my body, paralysing me.

Water, soft droplets landing on my face to roll down my cheeks.

Ah, there he was. The man I was irrevocably in love with. He was crying. Why? He had never shown so much emotion before.

It was okay, I wasn't sad. I was happy to give my life up so he may live, so he may finally get to live the life he had always dreamed of, so he may be happy.

Don't cry for me. My love, please don't cry. Let me see the genuine smile that I always craved.

"Please stay with me. I love you."

The voice was barely a whisper but I heard it so clearly.

The words that I had longed to hear for so long had finally been said. They were the last words I'd ever hear but I would take it.

Ah, there was the fear but ironically, it wasn't for me. It was for the man above me, his grey eyes sparkling with tears that rolled down his pale cheeks to land on me.

I feared for him, for his future and his happiness.

Go, go live your life the way you wanted. Please remember me, please remember the love I will always have for you.

I destroyed myself so I could save you, so now, you have to live.

Do you know me now? Do you know my heart? You should, because it's yours and it always will be.

You have all of me.

Be strong.

I will always love you.

Don't forget me.

It's okay, I'm free now.'

*************

Water droplets hit the pages softly, obscuring his vision and mixing with the ink.

He was crying, the tears fully rolling down his cheeks. He felt the pain so bad for her.

How could it happen? The guy she was in love with finally returned her feelings, only for her to get killed saving his life.

How cruel did the world want to be?

She can't have died though can she? She had to have wrote this passage so maybe she survived?

Turning the pages, he frowned, his heart sinking. There were no more entries.

His head whipped up when he heard the door close with a heavy bang.

Standing still, he stared at the intruder that he definitely knew. The black hair and shining grey eyes were a dead give away.

"You." He blurted out.

The guy raised an eyebrow. "Sorry, I didn't think anyone was in here."

"I know you."

"How unfortunate for you."

Lily had been right. This guys voice was so deep and gruff, like he was too tired to form real words.

The guy turned, beginning to edge towards the door.

"Lily." He shouted

The guy paused, turning back slowly to give him a perplexed look. "Excuse me?"

"Lily. I know you through her." He clarified.

"And how do you know Lily?"

Not knowing what to say, he brought the book into the other males line of vision. His eyes were blank, his stare confused.

"What's that?"

"A journal that she kept. She wrote about her life, about you."

"What? Where did you get it?"

"I found it, in the bookstore."

The black haired male sighed, running a hand through his already messy hair. "Why she loved that store is beyond me."

It sounded like he was talking to himself rather than the other.

"I just finished reading it. What happened to her?" He asked rather desperately.

"Doesn't that tell you?"

Shaking his head, he takes a step towards the other male. "I need to know."

"You want to know? Then, follow me."

He didn't wait for a reply, he simply left the sanctity of the church without looking book.

The other ran to keep up with his long strides, wondering where he was taking him.

He was so focused on the others back so he wouldn't lose him, he ran straight into the male when he suddenly stopped.

Breathing a soft apology, he steps to the side, looking down and freezing.

It was a gravestone, a beautiful marble gravestone with a simple name and date on it.

'Lily Park. 12.08.16'

The tears began to well up again. She had died after all and not too long along. He had to know how.

Wait, Lily Park? Why did this girl have the same last name as his?

"What happened to her?"

The older male was silent, clearly wrapped up in his own thoughts. He felt guilty for intruding and bringing up painful memories but he was already invested in this.

"She didn't die that day." The black haired male finally spoke up. "The doctor said she'd live but she may never be able to walk again."

The other listened to the story while staring at the engraved name.

"I was angry and I wanted to avenge her. It was my fault, that knife was meant for me. I found the guy and beat him to within an inch of his life."

The voice was so low, so scary that the other took a step to the side.

"It doesn't help to get revenge. It made everything worse."

The younger stared up at the older male, holding his breath, his heart beat increasing.

"Gangs don't let things lie. I knew that better than anyone but I didn't think about the repercussions, my rage consumed me."

He could imagine how angry the guy had been at the time. The woman he loved getting stabbed because of him and ending up paralysed. He was sure he'd have done the same thing.

"For a while, nothing happened. Lily got released from the hospital and she'd even started to walk. Not far and not without help but she was slowly starting to get better."

He smiled at the image of Lily finally standing on her own two feet.

"I dropped out of school to be with her. I couldn't leave her side for a moment. Her parents were so angry with me but Lily never cared about any of that. I had so many regrets and I tried to make it up to her."

He bit his lip, dreading the next part of the story.

"One night, I came home and they were in the house. They had Lily and I couldn't do anything. They wanted me to watch, to suffer for everything I'd done."

The males voice had cracked, betraying the emotion he was feeling.

"I had never regretted the life I'd lived before that night. I begged, I got down on my knees and begged them to just kill me, to leave her out of it but they just laughed. They said I deserved it. They weren't wrong.

I've made so many mistakes, uncaring about anyone but myself. Hurting others just for the sake of it. She made me change, get better and sort my life out.

I never got the chance to apologise for what I put her through. I knew that eventually she'd leave me and I would have to pay for everything I'd ever done.

But it was Lily who got hurt because she loved me and because I couldn't stay away from her."

The black haired male was sobbing, his cries soft but there none the less and it broke the others heart. The world had been cruel of both of them.

"She died in front of me. The neighbours heard her scream and called the police but by the time they arrived, it was too late. Lily was gone and so were they."

The younger male closed his eyes, the pain in his chest spreading through him like fire, the tears rolling down his cheeks.

"I tried, I really did try to be better but when you're in that world, it's almost impossible to get out."

"You were a member of the gang?" The other asked, voice trembling.

The black haired male turned to look at him, the pain in his eyes was hard to take in. "I was the second in command, that's why they didn't want me to leave. I knew too much."

"Why were you in that world?"

"I was a kid when I joined. Thinking I was clever and tough, never caring or thinking about the future. I would do anything, give anything to take it all back.

Lily died because of me. She gave her life for me and I did nothing to deserve the love she gave me."

The younger sighed, eyeing the book in his hands. He held it out to the other male.

"I think you should read this. Maybe it can give you some peace of mind." He said softly.

The other took the book with shaking hands, smoothing his fingers down the cover.

"Thank you."

The two males stood in silence, both wrapped up in their own thoughts about the girl who had impacted them both.

Now he knew what happened to her, he had another mystery now. Why did this girl and he share the same last name?

Needless to say, he had alot of questions to ask his mother when he returned home.

His heart hurt for this poor girl who had lost her life far to soon and far to savagely.

He glanced at the male beside him, feeling sorry for him also. He had lead a bad life but he had tried to change, had tried to be a better man for the woman he loved.

The world was cruel.

"Did the police ever find them?" He asked suddenly.

The other sighed, shaking his head slowly.

Not only had they taken lily's life, but they had also gotten away with it.

Yes, the world was indeed cruel.

*************

Arriving home, he was out of breath, the curiosity in him so overwhelming, he could feel it spreading through him, the warmth overtaking him completely.

His mother was in her usual place at the kitchen table, the half empty bottle of wine so familiar he barely glanced at it.

She looked up, wiping the tears that were formed on her lashes, giving him a strained smile. She only ever smiled at him when she was drunk.

"Where have you been?" She asked.

"Who is Lily Park?" He blurted out breathlessly.

His mothers eyes widened, clear recognition lighting up her eyes. "Where did you hear that name?"

"Who is she?" He repeated with more volume.

The silence was so loud in his ears, the clock ticking obnoxiously from its place on the wall.

"She is the daughter of your father's mistress." She releases finally.

"What?" He frowned.

"Why do you think your father left?"

"I always thought it was you who drove him away." He spits with venom.

Yes, he was bitter.

His mother laughs, taking another deep swig of wine.

"Your father left us for that home wrecker. Then that little tramp had a daughter and we were completely forgotten."

"He lived here? In this town? All this time? Why didn't you tell me?" He yells.

"What would it have accomplished? You already hated me, blamed me for it but it was never my fault. I've never been the perfect wife or mother but I loved you both dearly and he repaid my love by knocking up someone else."

"How could I not have known?"

"I made sure you would never know."

"We've lived in the same town. All this time, I had a half sister and I didn't even know she existed."

His mother went silent, as did he. Lily was his sister. It was meant to be the duty of a brother to keep your siblings safe, wasn't it?

If he had have but known of her existence, he could have saved her.

"She was a bad egg."

"What?" He stared at his mother.

"The woman and her daughter. Both were bad and I'm sure your father regretted his decision even on his deathbed."

He took a deep breath, his heart feeling like it was being torn to shreds. He hated his mother for driving his loving father away, always blaming her for everything.

It was true, she wasn't ever perfect, her drink problem attested to that. She didn't deserve it though, to be left like that.

How could his father do it to him? How could he leave his wife and son for some woman who bore his b*****d child?

It was clear whatever he thought he knew about his father was wrong.

He hated it. He wished he had never found that notepad. Lily had entered his life so suddenly and within just a few days, she had changed it drastically, along with himself.

Should he hate her? No, it wasn't her fault her mother bore her. It wasn't her fault that his father couldn't keep his hands to himself.

She must've carried the burden on her shoulders. Maybe that was why her parents were never affectionate. She was a mistake, a mistake that they had to look at daily. A reminder of everything they did wrong and the people they hurt.

He didn't hate her, he felt sorry for her.

She didn't deserve any of it. Nothing was her fault. He wished he still had the notepad, to be able to go back and read the words again.

What would it accomplish though? It would cause him more anguish and that he didn't want.

Did the guy know? Did he know about Lily's family? Surely he didn't. Should he be told?

What difference would it make? Lily was gone and nothing was going to change that.

Locking himself in his room, he wept.

He wept for his mother, feeling guilty at the hatred he had felt for her all this time. For the pain she had no doubt suffered thanks to his a*s hole father.

He wept for Lily. His half sister who he didn't even know about. Her painful life, her heartbreak and her untimely death. How she must have suffered.

'I'm so sorry Lily. I'm so sorry I wasn't there.'

Revenge. The word overtook him, almost burning him with its intensity.

There was one thing he could do to earn his forgiveness. He would find the men who killed his half sister. With that, he could be forgiven and he could move on.

Revenge. It was his mission now and it was a mission he did not take lightly.

................. To Be Continued................

Author's Note

This is completely original but it will include some extracts from song lyrics and poems that i favourite.
Please let me know what you think about this. I've wrote alot but this is the first thing I've ever published.
Thank you for taking the time to read:)
Comments are greatly appreciated.

*it will be updated as often as I possibly can.

Reviews

[Meg Haaland]

Wow! You had me hooked right from the start! Your writing style flows very nicely, and you were able to find just the right balance between giving enough detail to avoid confusion and keeping descriptions brief enough to allow for plenty of suspense. My only critiques, if you could call them that are: 1) adding a couple of longer paragraphs might improve the story, as it would add a little more visual variety, and 2) it might benefit you to try to begin fewer sentences with the word "he." While it does create a very interesting tone, by the end, it does begin to seem slightly repetitive. Perhaps try flipping it around sometimes, starting sentences with the action, i.e. instead of saying "he turned the pages," say "turning the pages, he..." Of course, that's just my silly personal opinion, and I am certainly no professional, so take what I say with a grain of salt. I truly did enjoy reading this, and look forward to seeing where it goes next!

[Kirsty Leigh Walker]

Thank you for the feedback, it helps :)

[Kirsty Leigh Walker]

This is now completed.
Part 2 will be going up soon :)