hidden | ethma

seventy three

my entire body begins to shake and the journal nearly slips from my fingers. 

no, this is impossible. this can't be real, it's another nightmare. right? 

"what is it?" elizabeth asks. 

i find it hard to speak. here, in my very hands, rests an in depth account of ethan's thoughts and feelings. it's the same journal he caught be reading the first page of, the same journal he spent hours scribbling assay in. 

as i stare at it, another thought dawns on me. 

who sent it? 

grayson? perhaps. i haven't spoken to him since the night of the party, but would he send the journal? 

i flip the package over and search for a return address. 

it's been scratched out. 

thinking how ethan has opened, shut, and touched this tattered journal thousands of times makes me tremble and i try to hold back tears. 

i feel my mother's and elizabeth's eyes on me and the temperature in the room seems to rise rapidly. 

this is too soon. even though it's been five months, this is too soon for me and i'm not emotionally ready to read ethan's thoughts if i don't know if he's even living. 

i hastily set the book on the small table in the foyer, taking a few steps back. 

"i-i need air," i stammer and turn to walk out, my lungs fighting for fresh air and my heart beating loudly in my chest. 

i race down the stairs and out into the night, taking long, deep breaths. my vision is blurred and my chest feels like it's collapsing on itself. i've never felt like this, not since the night of the party and it's the worst feeling i've ever felt. 

i fish for my car keys and unlock my car. i need to just drive, to clear my mind. i've done this many times when missing ethan was particularly bad, and it's helped some in the past. 

"emma, wait." 

i turn around and face elizabeth as she runs out of the building behind me, out of breath. she takes a deep breath and walks over to me, holding out the journal. 

"look, i don't know what this is or who it's from, but i think you need to take it." 

i chew on my lip, looking from elizabeth to the journal and back. she raises her eyebrows at me. 

finally, i reach out and hesitantly take the journal, getting into my car and tossing it into the passenger seat. 

i drive down the busy streets, focusing my mind on the traffic. i feel like i'm just wandering, lost without knowing what to do about the journal. 

a large part of me wants to read it; to memorize every word on every page. but i know my emotional and mental state is so fragile now, and reading it could only send my carefully constructed walls around my heart crashing back down. 

i venture out of the city, finding myself on the highway. it reminds me of driving on the highway in portland; ethan slumped in the passenger seat next to me, complaining about the songs that play on the radio.