Unwritten Pages

“—that is the end of the note. And if anyone has information on this person, please remember to call our lines. Any tip will help whether it be anonymous or—”

Arianna clicks off the television. It turns black as the face of the policeman disappears. Then she turns and looks at all of us. “We could have done some super cool sleuth work, you know? It'd be super cool and we'd all walk around in detective suits and we'd be like 'have you seen this person' to everyone.”

I wave her off. “You'd prefer to put yourself in danger?” Arianna gives a fake scowls and flips me off. I pretend not to see the last part.

I look over the papers in the hands again. I had photocopied them before I had given the official copy to the authorities. Now I reread it again.

Hey, this is Winter.

If you're reading this, then...I'm already gone. I think it's better this way really and you can't change my mind about it because...well... I'm dead.

But it feels weird writing that because I'm not, you know, dead yet.

But enough about that. I need to write about what happened that day. You'd probably be expecting it, for the people who've read my journal. I mean, it was probably so obvious. And I'd been too blind to see it because I trusted the wrong person.

It started... It was simple, really. I had been heading home from art class on Saturday, May, 26th. That date was when...everything changed. I'm not trying to sound cheesy...but it was how I saw it. It's how I still see it now and that's why I'm not afraid to take my life.

I was walking home by myself. It was light outside. I wanted to take a short-cut today because I didn't feel like walking so far. I cut through the alleyway. I usually didn't cut through this place because it was...well...creepy, to say the least. But today was an exception. It was quite sunny outside and I thought it would be a good idea. Feel free to call me stupid.

And there, I found...Aiden.

You know, the boy from my art class. He was just crouched in the alleyway and he looked horrible. He hadn't been at art class today so he must have been in the alleyway the whole time. He had his back to me and was rocking back and forth and muttering words under his breath.

I approached him and his head shot up instantly when my foot made noise on the concrete.

I asked him what was wrong. I was concerned about him. Aiden was a good guy. I didn't know what the hell he was doing, curled up in a tight ball in a dark alleyway.

He told me not to ask and to come back here at night. He said he couldn't tell me because THEY were watching. I didn't know who THEY were. I didn't understand but he sounded so worried and freaked out that I agreed to come back later.

He gave me the time which was late at night. Actually, more like early in the morning. My parents are strict so I doubted they would let me go see Aiden. So I waited. I waited until my parents were asleep and then I snuck out.

My parents didn't even know I left the house. I thought I was so clever. So very clever.

I went to the meeting place that Aiden arranged for us. It was around two in the morning by the time I got there. He wasn't there. Big surprise.

I...was stupid. I started to call out his name and I would probably draw attention to myself to the thugs who would walk by. But it wasn't them that I attracted...

I don't know how I should write this part. Definitely not in description. In fact, I don't want to write this at all. Maybe I should just write a blunt sentence to describe what happened...

Exactly what happened: a man covered in black walked in the alleyway. I won't go into description about what he said or what I said. That's unnecessary and I don't want to relive that moment anymore than I already have to.

How to put this in words...

He...he raped me. Okay? Is that good enough? Or do I have to add the parts where I was screaming? It was so bad... Just writing this makes me sick to my stomach. It makes me feel disgusting and gross like something horrible had contaminated me. And maybe it had.

That's why I wanted to kill myself.

No, wait, that's not all. He stalked me. He set his sights on me. He's CRAZY.

And the worst part is—I trusted him.

And I bet everyone's saying 'who cares if you were raped and stalked? Get on with your life!'. It's easy to say that, but it's not easy when it happens to you. I've seen plenty of articles and movies and whatnot about people moving on to a brighter future.

I can't. I can't. I can't. It hurts. It stings. I hate it. I hate every moment in this life. I hate this. I hate this. I hate this!

Soon, Aiden came to me again, threatening that if I told anyone what he did that I'll be in trouble. He'll go after my friends. He'll throw my best guy friend into a drug frenzy. He'll go after them. I feel so helpless. So freaking helpless.

I went to Drew Sorauren for help. I didn't tell him everything. Only a few things but I told him about the stalking. He tried his best to...save me. He really did. He tried his best to keep me on track. He told me that everything was going to be okay. But they were all lies and both of us knew it.

Aiden let something slip on the ninth of June. He told me that his stalking began as payment. Payment from a girl who wanted to scare me. He didn't tell me who the girl was but I had a good guess.

Liane Chau, from school. She was always jealous of my...'relationship' with Drew. Jealousy got a hold of her and she met Aiden in art class. Thinking it was funny, she paid him somehow to scare me. I'm not sure if it was money payment or...body payment.

But she's...superficial, if I could have my say in it. She wouldn't dare think of rape, or so I hope. Aiden had told me that he took things in his own hands because he thought I was 'interesting'.

I wanted to kill myself. I couldn't control Aiden. He was insane. I couldn't control anything anymore. The only thing I could control was my death. I like being in control. Maybe that's why I'm going to kill myself. When I die, I would like to die while knowing that I'm controlling the moment I die.

The only thing I have left to say is: why me? Why am I the one? Why? Can anyone answer this for me?

Why me?

I swallow and fold the papers. She has another page which describes what Aiden looks like but I haven't read that one yet. In fact, I haven't read it at all. I gave it to the police. I wanted to keep this paper because it's so...emotional.

I didn't know she was...raped. It's a horrible thing. It's a really horrible thing but if she held on then she would have pulled through. I wish she told me. I wish I could have helped her. But now? Now it's too late.

After Desiree read that, she had burst into tears. We photocopied some pages and handed the rest to the police along with her journal. I didn't know if Winter would want the authorities looking through her life but I doubted that she cared anymore. She's dead. What more can she care about?

We had phoned Arianna and everyone else and called them over. After showing them the papers, they were all in shock. Especially Peter. Arianna seemed to expect it coming but that didn't stop her from letting out a gasp when she read that Winter was raped.

Arianna is now trying to toughen up by trying to act like her usual self. Though there's a tremble in her tone once in a while. We can all hear it but we don't bother telling her.

Now the entire city is on a mad-hunt for the crazy rapist who had driven a...no, not teenage, adult into death. An adult with so much potential. An adult just out of her teens. They had read her notes just a few minutes ago on the television. Now the policemen are searching everywhere for Aiden so I'm sure they'll find him soon unless he's left the country... They've asked Winter's art teacher about Aiden too but he doesn't know anymore than Winter does about him.

And there's something else... Something more personal. I'm not sure if now is the right moment, but I need to tell my friends this.

“Guys,” I say, “there's another paper... Her note to us...”

Peter fumbles and the glass of water in his hand almost slips and drops to the ground. This earns him a scowl from Desiree which says, “You better not drop my glass cups!”

“Do you want to read this one out loud?” I ask Desiree. She takes the sheet of paper from me wordlessly and then clears her throat as she begins to read.

On a more personal level...

I'll start with the 'normal' things first. Con, you better start dating Arianna. You two are a match made in heaven. Well maybe not that. But honestly, you two are so perfect for each other...in my eyes.

Tomas...well, stop playing around with girls, will you? Alright, it's not in my right to say that but... Yeah, you can do whatever you want but still...

Peter, I'm sorry about...everything. I'm sorry for leading you on and then dumping you for the jerk. I'm sorry for that. But...if you're still hung over me (and I'm not saying you are), you can just...move on, you know? I'm not going to be pissed or anything because that would be stupid. You have the right to move on with life.

Desiree, Arianna... You guys have been the best friends I could ever ask for. Don't ever feel bad because I killed myself. In fact—don't even bother to cry. You crying will make me cry. We're friends, remember? Friends do what friends do. So smile for me if you'd even listen to me at all.

Oh, and I know how much you like that dolphin, Desiree. You can take it. If Andrew lets you. But he probably will.

Drew, you've been a great person even though we had our issues. Who doesn't has issues? Thank you for supporting me. Don't feel bad that you couldn't help me get through this. Don't feel bad. You tried your best. In the end, it was just me. It was just my fault. It's not yours so don't let it haunt you forever.

And Andrew... Funny how you have the word 'drew' in your name like his name... But...

Please don't feel bad about anything. Don't feel obligated to do anything for me. Just...let go, alright? Don't lose yourself in grief. Look towards the future. Forget about my horrible...suicide. Well, don't forget...but...don't let it consume you.

Look at me, I must be coming off as such a hypocrite to you guys. But...I think it's for the better. I don't want to be here anymore. I'd rather be free if that means cutting the last ties between my soul and my body.

Don't let the darkness consume you.

Desiree's voice trembles as she finishes. Then she wipes at her eyes. Arianna does the same and pretends it's just dust in her eye.

It's touching, really. Winter's notes makes me feel another pang at my chest. More painful than dull this time. But still. I feel like she's still here. I feel like none of this horrible stuff has happened to her. Even though I don't have anything tangible tying us to her, some part of my brain refuses to accept Winter's death.

Maybe that's why I can't feel anything. While everyone's in pain, I'm still in denial.

That's not what I want to think about right now. I tell everyone I'm leaving because I need to head home. No on tries to stop me. Desiree is still rereading over the note and Con is turning on the television and flipping to sport channels.

Would Winter want us to sulk like this? No, definitely not. But we are.

It takes a surprising fast time to get home. Maybe because I'm not really paying attention to anything around me. As I get off the bus—there it is again. The flash of blue. It's there for a second before it's gone. I look around for it again and I don't find it.

I push the uneasy feeling away and walk home, my eyes on the ground. While walking like that, I bump into someone. I mutter a quick sorry and try to get past but the person is blocking me. I look up to see...Liane Chau.

“Oh my gosh!” Liane says. Her face is red from crying. It's an odd sight because it looks so sincere. “I am so, so sorry—”

“What are you sorry for?” I ask, bewildered. But no—wait. Is she sorry for...Winter? She must have heard the policeman read the letter on the television. Maybe she's sorry because her reputation is sinking now.

“About Winter. Everything. I'm so sorry,” she says, wiping at her eyes. Liane isn't that good at acting. She can act sweet when she's being vicious but I know she won't even think of pretending to cry and ruining her makeup.

“The only way you can make up for that is tell us where this Aiden guy is,” I tell her firmly.

She wipes her eyes again. It's no dramatic gesture. “I-I'm sorry. I don't know. I didn't know what he would do. I didn't know. Please, please forgive me—”

“I'm not the one you should be begging for forgiveness,” I tell Liane coldly. I know that she's truly sorry right now but I still don't want to be kind to her in any way. “If you're asking for forgiveness, ask Winter. Oh wait, she's gone.”

I don't want to be too cruel but Liane is pushing me there. She can't just come here crying and think that everything will be okay. She has to face her own consequences. Crying isn't going to help. Did crying bring Winter back to life? No. Liane has to learn to accept that the past is the past. Whether she ever gets over the guilt or not, it's not my fault. It's her fault. She brung it upon herself.

She continues to wipe at her eyes while I push past her and start towards the front door. On my way, I see Chris standing on his yard again. There's a look of true concern on his face as he looks at Liane and I.

But it's not concern for us.

“Did you say Aiden?” Chris asks me, worry in his voice. I ignore him and close the door behind me.