8-Sabrina Jones's real story

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Edward

   Here I was, outside Sabrina's window once more, waiting for her to get back up to her room from dinner.

I was intrigued by her. I didn't know what she was thinking, but I desperately wanted to.

I was interrupted when her door opened, and her figure entered the scene. I watched intently as she turned to her wardrobe, forcing me to look away.
She had done her homework and taken a shower before dinner.

I turned back and she was walking over to a corner of her room, where a rather large, brown trunk lay. She opened it carefully, revealing that it was filled to the brim with letters. She rummaged through the sheets of paper before taking three specific ones out.. She carefully opened her letters, sitting on her bed, even though it was obvious from the quality of the paper that she had done so numerous times before, always with the same cautiousness.

I watched as her eyes flickered across the unreadable lines, and once she reached the third letter, a tear dropped from her eye. She folded it back into the envelope and turned to her desk. She got out a quill and a piece of parchment—she didn't seem very modern. She started writing something down on her paper, and folded it up, placing it in one of her drawers. Her eyes were red and wet now.

I heard a muffled thought. My eyes lit up as I glanced at Sabrina, hoping with all my might I had finally entered her mind. I soon realised, to my dismay, that it was only her father coming upstairs. She must have noticed as well, because she quickly wiped her eyes and smiled.
Her dad came in just then.

"Sabrina, I'll be off to work, okay? We've been having some weird cases lately."

"Okay, Dad, see you whenever I see you next," she answered smiling.

"Well, bye then."

Sabrina watched as her oblivious father left her room, and turned back to her desk. She sighed and sat down on her bed.

I watched as the lights flickered off, and Sabrina dozed off to sleep.

I watched her that night, and out of respect for privacy, which I was already infringing, I didn't read the letters, although I was burning from curiosity to do so.

The next day, she seemed perfectly normal, and the day after that. I watched as she cried quite a few tines when she was alone. October was already nearing its end, and the days were getting shorter and colder.

Sabrina was at her desk doing homework, and once she finished, she closed her books and put them in her bag. She got up from her chair and walked over to her bookshelf, taking a book unknown to my knowledge. She was wearing short sleeves for once, since the heating was on in her room. This meant I could see her scar. If her father came in, he would see her scar. If anyone came in, they would see her scar.

She was reading her book intently, when her door opened.

"Sabrina, I got some eggs. They're in the fridge, if you want that for breakfast tomorrow. I'll be at the station. The case is still unsolved. Some murders, apparently."

Sabrina seemed surprised, and she immediately flung her arm back, as though attempting to hide it beneath her book.

Mr. Jones turned his gaze to the scar.

"What's that?"

He didn't know?

Sabrina was so selfless, so caring for others, that she didn't even tell her own father about a scar that would most likely stay on her for the rest of her life?

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