The Day Hope was Murdered

1. The Mess Begins

Thank you @lara9988 for the cover on the side (it's from back when I had the old title)

// Chapter 1: The Mess Begins \\

     Blurriness.

     Like a broken cassette tape. A misplaced radio station.

     It is all I can see . . . all I can hear . . . and all I can feel.

     Blurriness.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

     It goes on forever.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

     Then out of it all, I hear a voice. Hope's voice.

     "Leila! Help!"

     "Where'd you go, Leila? I need you! How could you leave?"

     And then a voice that I can't quite distinguish. The owner or the words. It is muffled though . . . and deep. I think I hear the voice say "stay here" but I can't be sure.

     I'm trying to make sense of it all, before my time runs out. But it is as it always was. Just blurry.

     I have no sense of anything.

     And then, as it had done every night for the past year, it ends. I wake up.

     Same dream, every time. Nothing more, nothing less.

     I am back in this hell-hole called life.

     Sitting up in my bed, all I can see is darkness, except for the red numbers coming from my alarm clock. It reads 3:47.

     My hand unconsciously makes its way over to my bedside table, where my notebook lays. I grab my coat and flashlight, before tiptoeing my way to the window.

     I slide it open, and slip out into the moonlight. Running across the dewy grass, I reach the willow trees by the river and sit down, not caring that my butt is getting soaked in the process.

     I flick on my flashlight and start writing.

Saturday May 9, 2014

It happened again. The dream. Why do you do this to me? Haven't you done enough? Why do you have to constantly torture me with these oh so vague dreams?

If you could just get rid of the blurriness for once, and let me see what actually happened that night . . .

Why can't I remember?

It's been driving me crazy. Here I am, completely alone in the world and I just need a picture. Please. Give me a picture.

At least something other than what I've been seeing. I'm tired of seeing blurriness every freaking night.

Gosh, why me?

Why was she killed and not I?

I hate you, you know that right? You could have changed this, but no, you let it happen! It's all your fault. I'm done. So done.

If you don't get rid of the blurriness so I can actually see what went on that night, I will go insane, even more insane than I am now. That's all I ask.

A picture, please.

Te odio mucho

     I set my pen aside and just sit there, unmoving, until the first glimpses of the sun come out.
Awakened from my depressed stupor, I get up, walk back across the grass, and climb through my window.