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Chapter 8 I Knew

  • ~ WILLA's POV ~
  • I got home a little before midnight that night. Like a damn Cinderella. Except, I wasn’t coming home from a ball after dancing with Prince Charming. I came from a secret society gathering and kissed a sexy stranger to extort information. It was worth it though, because I got it.
  • He said this thing’s the clue to the next party location.
  • I took out the small matchbook I got from Connor. It looked like a normal matchbook to me, nothing out of the ordinary. I was walking aimlessly up the stairs and to my room, when I noticed the door to my mom’s room was slightly open.
  • It’s midnight and she’s still up?
  • Peering inside, I saw that she was sitting on the bed, looking out the window. The light was off, except for one lamp by the nightstand. Listening closely, I could hear her little sniffles.
  • “Mom, what is it?” I turned the lights on and strode over to her, “What’s wrong?”
  • Mom turned to me and her eyes were swollen, tears brimming on her eyes as she said, “Baby, I was from the hospital…”
  • “Yeah? Is Wes okay?”
  • “The doctors said there’s nothing they can do… Wes is… Wes is declared brain dead,” her hands went to cover her face, choking back her tears. “He can’t survive without life support…”
  • “No!” I shook my head from side to side. “No, No… No,”
  • “And there’s something else,” she pulled a piece of paper from her lap and her hand shook as she handed it to me. “The police came by earlier and gave me this. They said they found this at Wes’ dorm room,”
  • I took the paper from her and unfolded it slowly. There were tear stains all over but the writing was clear as day. It read:
  • - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
  • By the time you found this, I’m probably already dead.
  • I’m sorry, everyone. I’ve tried my best, but I can’t do this anymore.
  • Please don’t be angry or sad. I’m in a better place now.
  • Thank you for everything you’ve done. I love you always.
  • Wes.
  • - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
  • “No…” I threw the paper away instinctively. I couldn’t believe what I was reading.
  • “They said it’s his suicide note,” mom said again, her voice coarse from crying.
  • “No! This can’t be him! This can’t be Wes!”
  • “Oh, baby,” mom pulled me into a hug. She buried her face to my chest and I felt her tears on my skin. “I never knew your brother was suffering… I’m such a bad mother… I don’t know what to do…”
  • “No, you’re not a bad mother,” I insisted. “Look, we don’t even know when he wrote this and why. Or if he wrote it at all. We shouldn’t jump to any conclusions,”
  • “…And then the insurance…” she sobbed.
  • “What’s wrong with the insurance?”
  • “The insurance can’t cover everything. On life support, Wes only has a few more weeks,”
  • “Wait, just wait,” I peeled her away. “What are you saying? They’re gonna cut him off the machine?”
  • “Between paying the mortgage and everything else, we can’t afford to keep him on the machine for long…”
  • “I have some money saved up from modeling,” I said quickly. “We can use that,”
  • “Honey, are you sure?”
  • “Yes, absolutely,” I nodded. “I’ll wire you the money tomorrow,”
  • Mom smiled softly and wiped away her tears. Staring at the note on the floor, she held back her tears and said, “But honey, what if it is Wes? What if it’s what he wants?”
  • “No, Wes isn’t like that. You and I both know that,” I said firmly.
  • I picked up the paper from the floor and studied it some more. But instead of focusing on the words, I focused on the letters. He wrote in cursive, but that was odd since he didn't write in cursive when journaling.
  • “What are we gonna do, baby?” mom sobbed helplessly in my arms again.
  • “I’ll get to the bottom of this, mom. Don’t worry, I’ll figure out what happened to him,” I held her tight and gripped the paper in my hand. “You just wait. Don’t lose hope,”
  • * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
  • The next morning, after wiring all the money I had in my account to extend Wes’ life support, I went back home and sat in my bed, flipping through all the pages in his journal and investigating this weird matchbook I got from Connor.
  • On the front of the matchbook was the logo of Columbia University and underneath it said, “New York, NY, 101018”. On the inside it read, “Leave the match for I will burn”. And normally a matchbook would have 12 matches, but this one only had 10.
  • What does this mean?
  • I tried googling Columbia and matches or fire, or even the words ‘Leave the match for I will burn’, but nothing came up. I must have stared at the thing for almost an hour until I finally caught something.
  • New York, NY, 101018… That’s not a real zip code.
  • I was right. Columbia’s zip code was 10027. That must be the date, October 10, 2018! I got excited, I cracked the first piece of the code. Now I just had to figure out the location and time.
  • Ten matches… Ten PM?
  • Of course! And now the location… Leave the match for I will burn… What’s a place that would burn down if we lit a match?
  • Of course. The school’s library.
  • A simple Google search later, I figured out Columbia’s official library was the Butler Library. October 10, 2018, at 10 PM… At this library.
  • I didn’t know what I would find over there, but I knew I must go and find out. This would not bring Wes back, but at least a fake suicide note won’t tarnish his memory.
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  • To be continued