The Day Hope was Murdered

17. Literally Blueprints

Now that my mom's gone, I turn back to the item that has captured our attention and open it up once again. Amanda flicks on the flashlight.

Glaring us both in the face is huge, neon blue writing.

"It's literally blueprints," I mutter.

Amanda laughs despite the serious atmosphere.

A few arrangements of letters are on the first page. At most six or seven. The letters for what would usually be words are scattered and just seem to be random jumbles. It's hard to make out what it all means, but after examining it for at least two minutes, Amanda catches on to something.

"Look at how the letters are arranged." She points to the page. "If you take the letter after the one on the page, it actually makes sense."

I examine the page. It starts out with 'rgd ctf gdq nvm fqzue.'

Amanda has already figured it out. "So this page says 'she dug her own grave.'"

A moment of silence passes as we both reflect on the meaning of the words.

"I thought Oliver was on our side," I mutter.

"You're right. Maybe we should keep reading."

Amanda flips the page. I get up to grab a paper and pencil to make the interpretation process go by more quickly. Amanda yells out letters as I write them down and we do it so quickly that neither of us has the chance to think about what words we're translating to.

"We'll just get everything down and read it afterwards," I had suggested.

Ten minutes later and we were still at it. The blue writing in my journal progressively got smaller and smaller so there was a lot more to translate than expected.

"What would 5 be?" Amanda strays from her utterance of numbers to ask a question.

"Wouldn't it just be 6?"

"I guess so . . . Okay. Six," she calls out.

And with that, we continue the process. By the time we've finished, it's dark outside and Amanda has to call her mom to check if she can stay over longer. She gives her thirty minutes.

"Okay, I'll read it," I say.

-

She dug her own grave.

By providing the shovel.

It was hard as a rock.

Just as her own brain.

-

She dug her own grave.

By driving me insane.

Off that cliff she pushed me.

She ignored my screams.

-

She dug her own grave.

By allowing it to happen.

It was solely her fault.

Just as it all was.

-

She dug her own grave.

She knew that it was coming.

And yet she did nothing.

She let it happen.

-

She dug her own grave.

And now she lies inside it.

Hope is dead as can be.

She's gone forever.

-

I get to the end of what we can now tell is a poem and stop reading.

We both sit in silence, struggling to comprehend the words.

"There's more," I eventually say. I struggle to get the words out.

-

Your loyal friend, Ollie.

p.s. you're next Leila.

-

Amanda shudders beside me and I find myself shaking as well.

"Should we show this to the police?"

"No," I say firmly. I hand her the paper with the poem. "Here, you should take this. But don't, I repeat, don't show it to the police."

"Why?" By Amanda's expression, it seems like she's asking this of multiple things.

I answer as best I can. "The police won't do anything. He's already in jail, it's not like they're going to kill him."

She looks at the paper with a question in her eyes.

That's what the 'why' was also for. "I don't want my mom finding it. And plus, you're way smarter than me so maybe you'll figure something out. I still think Ollie is innocent.

Amanda gives me a dubious look but decides not to argue with me tonight. "Okay." Amanda hesitates before she asks, "you sure you don't want me to stay the night?"

"I'll be fine," I reassure her.

"Well, I'll see you."

I don't respond.

Instead, I embrace Amanda tightly before she walks out of my bedroom. A tear falls down my cheek but I hastily wipe it away and then pull back. I force a smile to my face as she looks at me one last time. Then she leaves.

That night, I leave town.

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<3 ash