The Day Hope was Murdered

5. Muted Words

Before I can spurt more negativity, Thomas interrupts me.
"Her sister is, or at least was, Hope Wade" Gasps can be heard throughout the room.

I look at him in shock. What the heck? This is my personal life. He can't just go telling it to whomever asks. I glare at him before getting up and heading straight for the door. Before I can reach it, however, I hear Thomas's voice again.

"Well it's true."

And then I grasp the door knob, leave the room, and slam it behind me. If there were any people in the building, they would have heard heard the resounding echoes like a single clap of thunder.

--

I walk into school the next day, shoulders hunched, head down. I spend all my classes with my head on my desk, never looking anyone in the eye. It's as if I become Thomas now - mute. Amanda tries to talk to me, but I brush her off, and just walk away.
Yesterday, after the incident at support group, I spent the rest of the day thinking about how I'd go about finding Hope's murderer. And came up... Empty. I literally know nothing about that night, and it's doubtful I'll find someone with nothing to base my decisions on.

Why did I think this would work?

The days pass by in a blur. One night I get out of my bed, with the intention of writing in my journal, only to find it missing. It's not in my chest or anywhere in my room for that matter. I rush out to the willow trees, because there's the possibility that I left it out there, however when I get there... Nothing.

That's not even the strange part though.

Because when I went back into my bedroom, I found my chest open, along with my journal sitting in plain site. What's even more, my bedroom door is open, and I hear the distant sound of a car starting. I went in and out through my bedroom window, never once touching my doorknob or the door. It was closed.

The strange occurrences continue. At random times throughout the day, I go to check if my journal is in place and every once in a while, it's gone. Like it has magical powers to disappear or something.

Today is Saturday, which means I have to visit Dr. Harrison once again. Hopefully he didn't hear about support group and if he did, hopefully he doesn't mention it.

A few hours later, I am sitting in the waiting room. Waiting. There's twins, a boy and a girl, playing with the toys in the corner of the office. They look to be about seven years old. Watching them brings back memories of me and Hope at the same age. And in these memories, Hope and I were so happy, yet thinking back on them only brings up pain. Hurt. Loss. Abandonment. A indelible temptation to let the floodgates of my eyes burst.
I hold it in. Just like I always have. Just like I always will.

The minutes pass by and then I hear my name being spoken. Without acknowledging the world around me, like a mechanical robot, I stand up and walk. I walk towards the sound of where my name came. And then, still looking down, but now at a pair of shoes, I follow them. I follow them until the stop and I hear the sound of a door opening. I hear the voice again but don't try hard enough to make out what it's saying. I then enter the room and collapse. After that, I see nothing, hear nothing, except the dim echoes of a male voice. Dr. Harrison's voice.
It finally dawns on me that I'm in my therapy session now. And I haven't spoken a single word. At least, none that I'm aware of. And yet even as I realize this, I don't move. I don't make an effort to use my vocal muscles. And then before I know it, somehow I end up back in the waiting room and the two kids are still there, with smiles on their faces.

I won't play with Hope like that again. She's gone. Dead. I always wondered where people go when they die. Is there a heaven? That's what I've always been taught in church, by my parents, and I'm pretty sure Hope believed in a heaven as well. But if there's a heaven, that means there's a hell. But I'm already in hell, so there's no explainable way that is possible.

Hope, if you're out there, I'm sorry that I couldn't save you... Or rather, didn't. I probably could've if I tried hard enough. But I didn't. And for that, I hate myself. It should've been me, not you who was murdered. If I could go back in time, reverse the past, i would. I hope you made it to a heaven, wherever you are. I hope you're happy. Hope, I love you. I miss you. And if you're even listening to me know, just know that I tried. I really did. I though I'd be able to take the pain of living without you.

Now I realize that isn't possible. So this is my final letter to the world. A goodbye. Forever. I'm holding on to a sliver of hope that I'll reunite with you very soon, Hope.

And world, since you haven't done anything kind to me at all, I doubt you'll do this. But I'm asking you anyways.

If there is a heaven. If there is a hell. If there is a god, somewhere out there, please tell him to forgive me for any sins I may have committed in my lifetime. And please, tell him to let me past the golden gates. To let me into heaven. If that's where Hope is. If Hope is in hell, then have him reject me and slam those doors in my face.

I'll forgive you for everything you've done in the past, if you grant me this one request. Please. Just grant me this as I leave you forever.

Te odio mucho

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Copyright © 2015 by Ashlyn Taylour