Dear Diary

Wednesday, February 2

Dear Diary,

I am physically and emotionally exhausted, I have not slept in days. The thought of him coming back sends a chill through my blood and shivers down my spine. My wounds burn, my bruises ache. I have hit rock bottom and cannot bear the guilt he has appointed in me. I need to find a way out of this house, a way to keep my child safe, but it seems as though his recurring presence will never decease. My only outlet is you, a little black book covered hidden under some folded blankets in my bare room.

Friday, February 4

Dear Diary,

Today we fled home. I packed my necessities, loaded them into an old van, and drove to a small town in Georgia. I used my savings to rent a one bedroom apartment and buy the groceries we need to make it through the week. There is a book store around the corner, and I begin work on Monday. It is small and old, as though it has seen and experienced generations, but it’ll do for now. His memory still haunts me, but my bruises are fading and this town gives me hope.

Monday, February 7

Dear Diary,

I started work today, it was incredible. Something about that little store comforts me, gives me passion and reason. Thousands of authors lined up row by row, waiting to tell readers about their greatest achievements, doubts, traumas. As I walked in this morning, I was engulfed with desire, as though it was the heavens giving me hope for my own happy ending. I have a good feeling about this.

Tuesday, February 8

Dear Diary,

You’ll never guess what I found. I was doing my daily rounds when I came across this novel in the back. The front cover was coated with a thin layer of dust, the title read “A Fortune to be Told”. I raised the book, slid the first pages across my fingers, and began to read. There was a passion and purpose to this novel and the further I read, the more anxious I was to hear the ending. My heart began to sympathize with those of the characters, my palms would sweat in times of suspense. The story was that of a woman and her child, so detailed and so real. As I grew closer and closer to the conclusion, I grew more and more aware of a slight gap in the pages at the very end of the book. I grabbed the mass of pages that were left and flipped the book to the back, the authors note. It read “Congratulations, you found me. Now, check the safe”. Attached was a key. I looked everywhere but I could not seem to find a safe, so I took the key home.

Wednesday, February 9

Dear Diary,

I was cleaning the floors today and I noticed a suspicious and lengthy chain underneath the front desk. I followed the chain and discovered that it led to a small safe hidden under a purple silk cloth. I ran my hand down the cloth, embracing its soft touch. Underneath the cloth there was a safe and a rough engraving read “finders, keepers”. I quickly grabbed the key from my back pocket and fit it into the lock, it was a perfect match. I turned the key slowly until I heard the click, and then I gently opened the door. Inside there was a mound of one hundred dollar bills, at least twenty thousand dollars worth. My heart began to race uncontrollably, I was filled with confusion and excitement. When I turned around, there was a woman at the window watching me. She entered the store with a soft, reassuring grin. “You found it,” she said to me “keep it, it’s yours now”. Before I could ask any questions, she walked away. I stuffed the money into a pocket in my bookbag and ran home to my apartment. This, this could be my happy ending.

Saturday, September 3

Dear Diary,

It has been several months since I found that safe. My son and I live in a beautiful house on a lake, and we haven’t seen our abuser since January. I now own the little book store on the corner of a street in a small town in Georgia. I am continuously amazed by the greatness of the stories I read. Some books have a happy ending, and some lives do too…