Again.
William Scott-Evans
Marcus Delaney
Unknown
Again.
William Scott-Evans
Marcus Delaney
Unknown
Until the pen runs dry.
Diary Entry 2:
Dad is gone.
He didn’t leave a note when he left and he didn’t pack much.
He just walked out like the last two years finally crushed him and I was the reminder he couldn’t bear to look at anymore.
He couldn’t manage after Mom died.
They called it alcohol poisoning. Said it gently, like that made it less ugly. Like it wasn’t something I’d been watching happen in slow motion since the night Missy disappeared. She’s been dying for a long time. She just finally stopped pretending she wanted to live.
And now it’s just me.
The house feels wrong without them. Too quiet. Too empty. Every room echoes, like it’s waiting for something that isn’t coming back. I stand in the middle of it and feel small in a way that hurts, like the walls are leaning in, and they know I don’t belong here alone.
I’M ANGRY!
So angry it makes me nauseous. So angry it crawls up my throat and sits there, burning. How could they leave me like this? How could they sink into their own pain and forget that I was still here? That I lost her too. I lost my sister. I lost the person I loved most in the world.
I needed them.
They knew I needed them.
And they left anyway.
I’m fifteen. I’m supposed to figure out school and money and food and bills and how to keep breathing when my chest feels like it’s caving in. I’m supposed to do all of it alone, because they couldn’t carry the weight of their grief without dropping me in the process.
Sometimes I think about what Missy would say if she were here.
I know she’d be furious. At them. At the way they chose themselves. At the way they gave up instead of staying and protecting me. She’d tell me I deserved better. She’d tell me none of this was my fault.
She’d be right.
But knowing that doesn’t fix anything. It doesn’t bring them back. It doesn’t make the house warmer or the nights shorter or the loneliness any less sharp.
It just makes it quieter.
And somehow, even lonelier.
Diary Entry 3:
