THIRTEEN REASONS, THIRTEEN CLUES {Book 1 of the Violet Trilogy}

Third Reason, Third Clue

I'm sitting next to Myrcella, staring into her beautiful violet eyes as she stares back into my brown ones. I smile at her, but it falters. I know she is doing this to me, she jumped off Shallow Ledge, she is killing me from the inside.
But I can't help but admire her deeply. Her eyes, those violet eyes... And her hair, so curly and beautiful...
I lean in and grasp her hand and hold it tightly. I can't help but notice how pale she looks. Is it even possible to have snowy skin? I don't know, and I don't care. All I know is that Myrcella is here, right next to me, squeezing my hand and smiling.
And out of nowhere I hear the sound of an angry sea. I look around, but I don't see anything but blackness, a nebulous darkness that at first feels comfortable, but then my heart starts pounding too fast and the ocean's roars echo in my head and the darkness seems to be hiding something from me.
I turn back to face Myrcella, expecting to see her angry like me for the darkness, but she is expressionless.
Her face is as pale as before, but this time it's covered in dried blood and her violet eyes are no longer breathtaking as she stares at the sky that doesn't exist. Her clothes are bloody and torn, swaying in the ocean that lays beneath her; though it isn't taking her away like it should, until I see she is supported by a jagged rock that is covered in her blood.
I try to scream, but nothing comes out. I feel a warm trickle of hot liquid on my arm and pull my hand out of Mrycella's weak grip, and stare at the dark red river that is now finding its way down my arm.
I stare back at Myrcella, utterly terrified, hoping that she isn't really dead, that she didn't jump... but she's motionless, eyes unmoving and wide in death....
I wake up puffing and panting. I feel a warm trickle on my arm, the same place the blood was, and I lift it up to inspect it, because if the blood is there then all of that was real...but it's only sweat.
I continue staring at my arm. I watch the clear sweat trail a river down my arm just as Myrcella's blood did, shaking and gasping for air.
It was only a dream. Just a dream.
I think I calm down eventually. When I do, I'm still gazing at my arm and the sweat river, not the blood river. I have my sense back now, so I think about what happened in the dream, the dream where Myrcella was dead and unmoving...
I shake my head and swing myself off the bed. I walk to my desk and sit gingerly on the chair, and begin gazing at the notes. Because you looked at me. Because you smiled at me.
What does it mean? I still don't understand, even after I got the new note. Because you smiled at me. What does it mean? I still don't have any idea what any of the notes mean, but what I do know is that they are definitely for me, because the last note was on my desk.
But that has raised a new question: How did it get there? I was trying to figure out the first note, and then I went to the bathroom and when I came back the new note was there. Someone must have put it there while I was gone...
I take a deep breath, something I do a lot now, and go to the bathroom to wash up, which is another thing I do a lot now. Especially after the dreams.
And now I'm beginning to think that maybe these are not reasons why she jumped, but clues to somewhere... Clues that might eventually lead me somewhere.
But what would that do? It won't bring her back, but maybe it will just tell me something important. And whatever that is, I really hope it's soon, because it killing me.
Today I have school, so I'll have to get ready quickly. I've already wasted enough time dreaming and then staring at my arm, then staring at the notes.
And then it happens again. At first I don't see it, because my eyes are droopy and tired, but when I look at the mirror and see the length of paper taped messily to the glass, I gasp and almost stumble over backwards.
I blink a few times to make sure that it's real and not some illusion, then pinch myself in case it's another dream. I wince as I pinch to hard, and slowly creep towards the paper.
Another note.
Another note exactly like the others, in the exact handwriting.
I stare at the words, adrenaline pumping through my brain and soaking my heart.

Because you held my hand.