- V I C T O R I A -
11.18.16 // 8:23 p.m.
I grip onto the letter tightly with one hand and steer my car with the other. My window is down, letting the chilly breeze whip my hair in my face. I take a quick glance down at the letter in my hand.
Dear Victoria,
The truth will set you free.
-Sarah Longthorn
That's all the letter said and after thinking about it for a long time, I knew what I needed to do. My eyes are blurry as more tears escape and slip down my cheeks.
My old, beaten-up diary that is bound in brown leather, cracked and dry from age and smell of wet leaves and autumn air, sits innocently in the passenger seat of my car. It taunts me as I push down harder on the gas pedal.
I need to leave.
Sutter's brown house comes into view and my heart almost stops beating so fast. Al
