Chapter 2
What I heard made it hard for me to breath. My chest was stepped on by thousands, of billions of elephants. How could this happen? Rage skipped through my body, knowing that this was the guards fault. It was their entire fault. They were the ones who pushed me into rock. I felt a deep hatred for them. They were taking William’s body, I wanted to stop them. If they hadn’t been trying to take his body in the first place, I wouldn’t be sitting in a hospital bed. Why did they push me so roughly? Would they get arrested for basically, potentially killing me? Would I be able to live through this? Is there a treatment I can have?  I had no time to process or reply to her words. The nurse spoke on, "I would suggest surgery as soon as possible. These bleeds can be fatal to Hannah’s health. She has six months at the tops.”   My mom’s expression changed from sadness to rage… I was again confused. She spoke quick and harsh, “No, I will not accept this offer! Surgery is far too much money, money we don’t have.” I gasped at her answer, but I didn’t speak. I didn't have any idea what was going to happen. What did she mean we didn’t have the money? Nobody in Chicago was poor. In fact, I think they pay for the surgery. When I was little, if I scraped a knee my mom would take me to the hospital. No way was my mom serious. Everything happened so fast, I didn't have time to mentally or physically reply. The nurse reacted more shocked then I did. She dropped her clip board and nearly fainted. Yet she spoke kindly back to my mom, “Okay then Hannah is free to go. Let me talk to her about her head, but a little more in depth this time. Also the surgery has no fee, we pay for it.” My mom didn’t even seem to hear, she was already walking out of the room. The nurse spoke, ignoring my mom’s rude attitude. “Hannah, I want to warn you of concerns that come along with having a brain bleed. There are ways that you can control it, maybe stop it, without going against your mom’s wishes, of you not having surgery.” The nurse continued, one way is not running or be as active. Secondly you could begin eating healthy, to build strong nerves. There are a couple more things…..”  My mom burst through the door and waved me over, out of anger. The nurse handed me a packet of things to do for my head. Just like that, the nurse was sending me back home. The feeling that you know your going to die soon, hurts, and burns. I slowly got up, feeling a rush of daze. My vision turned blurry, like it was flooded. My mom looked at me as if to say, hurry up! The look in her eye was a smirk, of rude humor. I glared at her with steam. I tried as best as I could to get up from the bed, the nurse offered to get a wheelchair, but before I could answer my mom nearly yelled no. Why would a mom want badly for her child? What did I do to deserve such a horrible feeling?  I had no feeling of why my mom suddenly hated me and every thing about me. We stepped into the elevator together. My mom hit the bottom floor number. My chest hurt, it was in the air flying, only I was going down. The elevator was going down, my head was, and my life was. The elevator dinged as it opened to the lobby. My mom walked up to the counter to get discharge papers, she was demanding. The poor young nurse at the desk, shook with fear as my mom told her she was stupid. I felt bad for her. She was the second, no the third victim that had to stand in the wrath of my mom. First was me, second was the nurse that was helping my, now her. We all suffered her hatred. I stood in the lobby, and looked around at the innocent families who were waiting to be treated. Nobody looked seriously injured. We walked out the entrance. There was no rain in the air, only pain. The sky was a dark faded blue. An ugly blue. The air was silent. It was mid afternoon. We began our walk home, only a mile away. Everyone walked everywhere. Only the city council members had cars, you could rarely spot one, driving near homes. I remember me and William saw one once, we were amazed at the speed of the unique machine. Those were the good days. The days when we had fun together, the days I missed, the days that would never come again. We walked and walked on. I didn’t speak to my mom, she didn’t speak to me. She simply walked with a glow of pride, yet she had nothing to be prideful about. She had no son, and to me she had no daughter. She had no good. I was a burden, a mistake. We walked and passed many people, innocent people. People who had a mom, or siblings, even a dad. We kept walking, with every step there was a pounding in my head, that shook my body.

As I arrived along our long drive way, I forced my tears back, remembering William's dead body, the blood that was fresh, trickling down his head that turned his black hair, even darker. And the shot to his stomach that soaked his blue shirt. The blood was gone now; the rain must have washed it away. It helped me not think about it, like it was trying to pull the image from my head. That didn't work; it was clearly still there, in my head and in my heart. I should have been a better sister, I thought. I could have done more, been braver for him. Was I a good sister? Did I show him how much I loved him? Did I do enough for him? All these years, did I do anything for him; he was the one who was taking care of me. He did more than enough for me. He made me who I am. Nothing he could have done more. He gave me the chance to spend the fifteen years of my life with him. He gave me the happiness in life. Oh there was one thing he could have done, he could have stayed. Stayed another year, stayed another month, and stayed another day. I would have been fine with another second with him.  Spend time with those you love, spend every chance you get, never forget.   

When I looked up, I noticed the black car in the driveway, this was the second time I had ever seen one. Along side the car, there was a man in a suit standing by our front porch. He had black hair that was sleeked back with far too much gel. He stood tall, with wide shoulders and a serious expression. His eyes were dark and gray. His hands were folded and sat in his lap. His suit had not one wrinkle. No personality. I had never seen a city council member so close up. He was probably here to talk about William’s death. He must be an investigator; at least I wasn’t the only one that thought William was murdered. My mom pushed past me and greeted him. My mom and him began talking like they knew each other, yet I did not care why he was here, or what they were talking about. I pushed past them and opened our large, brown front door, and walked inside. There in the living room stood a boy, with black hair and the same green eyes as mine. Only they seemed darker, gray. There was no blood caked in his hair, or any gunshots to his body. Even though I could not process who I saw, I still believed it. William. Wait what? William is dead!!!!! My mom walked in with the man in the suit, still talking to each other. They were so casual, it was wrong. “Hannah this is your brother, your mom bought him earlier,” the man in the suit spoke. I did not understand one word. My brother died, was this witch craft. I was confused and baffled. “How can you buy a person?” I shot back at him. How can a person be so crazy and stupid, I thought to myself? What was going to happen, was I in danger? Smirks flew in the wind, chasing me, sweeping me off my feet.

“Well you see, there is a secret program in this city, if a loved one dies with an unknown cause, you buy a new one. See he has the same hair, voice, personality....” I cut him off, “I know how William died. He was murdered; there was a gunshot to his stomach and one to his head!!!! He was taken from me, I lost him, and you bought a new one? ” My mom looked at the floor knowing I was upset; I took another step towards her. I didn't see it coming. Her hand thrashed out in anger and hit me in the face, my face burned. She hit me so hard I fell backwards into the coffee table. I had hoped the man in the suit would help me, he didn't. He almost laughed. A dark smile spread his face.  My mothers face was flushed, but she looked almost satisfied. The coffee table I grew up with was in five pieces on the ground. The table I used to color on, the one that I sat on when I was little, and the one that I ate at every night. Tears came upon my eyes, not because my face stung.  My memories where within this house and she just broke one of the many happy ones. I felt alone, my mom never hit me, or any body. I still lay on the ground. I had not been watching this person they called my brother. He suddenly walked toward me, picked me up, and hugged me.  Indeed William would have done that, but the hug did not feel right, his touch was cold and shaky. William was warm and strong. The man in the suit looked at me with suspicious eyes and spoke, “Hannah, do you believe this is your brother?” What was I going to say, my mom just hit me. I knew deep down every ounce of me said, no. NO my stomach screamed, I felt sick, very sick. I nodded my head yes, only because everything seemed fishy. The room was quiet, too quiet. I did not move. The man in the suit continued looking at me. It scared me, very much. The man, my mom, and my brother all seemed to have a conversation through their heads. Everyone’s eyes seemed to spark in the shadows of the room. They carried on as if I wasn’t in the room. His process carried on for seconds and then minuets. I thought of reasons this was happening. Nothing came to my mind of what it was. It certainly wasn’t a joke. Was it? I began looking at the living room, the brown rug, the black curtains and the couch. The beautiful, cozy style in the room calmed me. The smell of lemons filled my lungs, which is what our house smelt like, lemons and a faint hint of mint. All houses smelt that way. No personality. Suddenly my mom spoke, with no type of tone that would indicate how she felt, “Hannah go to your room and calm down.” Had she not felt sorry for hitting me? Did she not see the war inside of me that was fighting her?
                       
I was scared, scared of how my mom has been acting, and of my "Brother", who was watching me closely. World War III was about to break out from the inside of me.

Chapter 3

I walked slowly wanting to hear what they were saying, but they didn’t speak. As soon as I got to my bedroom, I collapsed. I hit the floor. The brown carpet was near my lips, it smelt clean too clean. I saw my metal, fancy, queen-sized bed, out of the corner of my eye. I laid there for seconds in shock; it felt like every ounce of happiness was being sucked out of me. At last, I cried, for my brother I missed him so much, he was everything to me. How could something so painful, take over you, in a second? The dread was pulling me. I had heard of deaths in our city, they did sadden me, but I did not know how it felt to lose someone, until it happened. I had a sudden feeling for anyone in the city that had ever lost anyone. Nobody would no how I felt. Even losing my dad wasn't as bad. There was still hope he was alive somewhere. William was nowhere. He body lay in the morgue at the hospital, and there was nothing I could do to save him. I thought about how the autopsy was probably happening.  It had been twenty-one hours since he died. I was alone. Anxiety filled my heart along with dread, but as I cried, a beautiful memory flooded my head.

Summer, two years ago. William and I strolled down the street, I was sad that day. It was June 27; exactly three years ago my dad had disappeared. It was a sunny afternoon. William was trying to cheer me up, by dancing down the street and singing, some random song he made up in his head, which he was a terrible singer. I smiled anyway. Our mom had left for the day. So William decided to take me out for the day.
That day he bought me a fruit smoothie that had my most favorite fruit in the world in it. We also went to an art museum and he bought a super expensive painting of a running shadow for me. I remember that day he insisted on going square dancing in the town. I remember him spinning me around. Later that day we met up with Bishop, William’s best friend since grade school. Bishop was very handsome, with sandy blonde hair and a strong build. His personality was like Williams. William always teased me of being in love with Bishop. Every time he did, I just smiled. Bishop and I were great friends; I couldn't see me being in love with him. Or was I?

William was the kind of brother who was not embarrassed to hang out with his little sister, one who comforted me when I cried; he was one who could not be replaced by anything or anyone. Now it has been ripped out of my heart, a piece of me left with him. No puzzle can be replaced without its pieces, its nothing.  I thought of how my hope was running away, it was the running hope. That’s what my life was, running hope. Running out of time with hope, running out, empty of hope. The people I love where running, from life or from me. The people I love are my hope, where my hope, now they are my running hope.

I felt foolish and ashamed of crying. I got up. I realized I wasn’t alone, I had Bishop. That’s who I needed. He would understand. I gathered myself up. The note on my dresser stopped me. William's messy handwriting filled the page. I read.

Hannah I have so much to tell you and far little time. This will come as a shock, Stanley is not our dad. Forgive me for keeping it from an angle like you. I know you will have a lot of questions for me. I will answer the ones that I know you would ask me. First off, who is Stanley? Stanley Nick Banks is a man that married mom when I was three years old. Mom thinks I think that Stanley was our dad. Are biological dad died in a tragic accident when you where three months old. Shortly after that, Stanley and mom met, and where married months later. Anyway way I’m giving you this letter? It’s because I might not live through what happens next. Mom hasn’t been herself when Stanley left. Something in her snapped and changed her for life. I can’t take the way she feels anymore. I want to fix our family, I know who broke it. In case I don’t make it, look in my closet. Never stop believing in what you believe, never stop dreaming. Remember, it’s not about winning the race; it’s about finishing the race. Take care of mom, don’t be harsh. Oh and marry Bishop someday, for me. Pass your finish line no matter how far away it seems, I mean, obviously you would never win first place, but try your best. I’m just kidding. I love you more than anything, little sis. Don’t ever forget who you are to me, and don’t forget me when I’m gone.

I read through it over and over. After that I wrote it out in my own hand writing, because William’s hand writing was too messy to read. Piece by piece I worded out his thoughts on an old piece of sketch paper, until I had what was none as a death note. The note. He knew. He knew he would die. I never got the chance to say goodbye. Again I read the letter, whispering it to myself this time.

Hannah I have so much to tell you and far little time. This will come as a shock, Stanley is not our dad. Forgive me for keeping it from you. I know you will have a lot of questions for me. I will answer the ones that I know you would ask me. First off, who is Stanley? Stanley Nick Banks is a man that married mom when I was three years old. Mom thinks I think that Stanley was our dad. Are biological dad died in a tragic accident when you where three months old. Shortly after that, Stanley and mom met, and where married months later. Anyway way I’m giving you this letter? It’s because I might not live through what happens next. Mom hasn’t been herself when Stanley left. Something in her snapped and changed her for life. I can’t take the way she feels anymore. I want to fix our family, I know who broke it. In case I don’t make it, look

in my closet. Never stop believing in what you believe, never stop dreaming. Remember, it’s not about winning the race; it’s about finishing the race. Take care of mom, don’t be harsh. Oh and marry Bishop someday, for me. Pass your finish line no matter how far away it seems, I mean, obviously you would never win first place, but try your best. I’m just kidding. I love you more than anything, little sis. Don’t ever forget who you are to me, and don’t forget me when I’m gone.

I sobbed at my brother’s words, and read them again. He knew he could die, what was he dying for?  When I had the full thing memorized I realized something oddly strange, the phrase, ‘look in my closet.’ What did he mean about his closet? I wish I knew. I will listen to his instructions. I walked quickly to my bedroom door, opened it and quietly walked into William’s large room. It was exactly like mine, only boy colors. No personality.

I walked to the closet that was across from the bed, to the right, in the corner. I pulled up the tan shade that covered the entry way for the closet. I loved the style of the closet; it had no door, just a shade. His cloths hung up, they where in a color-coded pattern. I smiled at that. William was very organized with everything he did. The closet looked normal, nothing was out of place. It was perfect. Too perfect. I pushed his shoes out of the way and looked for clues of what William meant by, ‘look in my closet.’ I was about to leave when I caught, in the light, a tiny mistake. In the corner of the closet was a tiny tan lining. I moved all his cloths at once. The lining was a rectangle, tall up and down. I felt like I knew what to do. I pulled back the corner, it came off, easily. Behind the wall laid several boxes and pictures. I wasn’t sure what they were but, I grabbed all of it. I heard heavy footsteps coming down the hall, fast.

That feeling, knowing you were going to be caught, was nerve racking. My heart pounded into my ears, it was deafening.  I crept to the door, unsteadily, and pressed my face to it. The footsteps stopped right in front of the door. I could hear their breathing. I saw the shadows of their feet. They slowly opened the door, and stared at me. The new William looked at me with strange eyes. He was flustered, guilty looking. He cleared his throat and spoke, “Oh it’s just you, go ahead you can stay in my room if you want.” I bit my lip at the fact of him saying, “My room.”  It definitely wasn’t his. It was my dead brother’s room.  William never let me in his room.  Why was the new William acting so weird? I walked past him and slammed my bedroom door behind me as I stormed into it.  I spread the pictures across my bed. There was a man in every picture, along with my mother and William. I did not recognize who the man was; I looked on the back for name/dates of when or who this man was. The photos were worn, I could tell, someone, William used to hold the pictures a lot. The writing was blurry;   right, Ben Speck, July 7. Left William Speck age 3. Middle Hannah Speck, age 1 day old.
At first, I hadn’t understood who the man was, but then it hit me. It was my real dad. Before he was dead. Tears of pure joy came upon my face. All the pictures were of our family, doing things. William had kept them all these years, he hadn’t showed me. I was angry and sad at once. I missed my father, yet I didn’t even know him. I thought of what it would be like to have a dad, to see me graduate, get married, and have kids. I looked at the same pictures and repeated my father’s name. I looked closely at my mom in the pictures, she was happy; her eyes were green, now they are gray. I looked at another picture, only this time a baby was in my mom’s hands. I realized it was me, just me and my mom. That was the only picture that me and my mom where alone in. I cried at it, because I saw the love my mom truly had for me in that picture. Her eyes where happy, she was smiling. She smiled with a big smile I had never seen. In the boxes contained several little toys, from our childhood. The toys I have never seen. Today you were only aloud to give your kids certain toys. No personality. I thought of how there was once personality to the city. There were several more pictures; they were after my fake dad went missing. I saw myself as a ten-year-old with the standard toys you were aloud to give your kids. I thought of how strange it was, not having personality.

  I heard someone by my door; I wiped away the many tears that had formed. Although I knew someone was standing at the door the knock scared me. I didn’t talk at first but when the person banged on the door a little harder, I yelled, “Come in.” It was the new William. He spoke, "Hannah I brought you your favorite fruit."  He handed me a plate of sliced apples. They smelt good, and were sliced perfectly. They were sliced too perfectly, in exact same size each. The only thing was that my favorite fruit was pineapples, my true brother knew that.

 

Chapter 4
I knew at that point that something was going on. My gut churned and flipped. My heart raced into my head, William was still looking at me. He spoke, “is something wrong?" I realized my hands were shaking, which was suspicious. “No, of course not, thank you so much.” William still looked at me and then, slowly turned and walked down the hall. I froze and waited, for minuets. I had a feeling he saw looking at the pictures, and that he was still near the doorway listening. After I felt like it was safe to move, I did. I got up and shut my door. Walking to my bathroom, I felt dizzy. Must be my head; take it easy, I told myself, remembering the nurse’s instructions. I began walking a lot slower. When I got to the bathroom, I took off my shirt, right away I noticed it.

A massive bruise covered my ribcage, along with a cut from my ribs to my hip. It must have been from my fall, I thought. Again tears came to my eyes, remembering how and why I fell. The blood the smell. No I shook my head, no more tears. I didn’t want to cry anymore. My ribs were sore to the touch, and the cut burned. Looking at my face I saw how puffy and red my eyes were, along with red spots. My arms were stone cold. Pale, very pale, my skin looked like a puzzled pattern, a puzzle falling apart, broken. Over all my whole body looked hollowed inn. My hair was caked with dirt sweat, and blood. At first I thought it was William’s blood, then, I saw it was fresh blood. It was my own, from the fall. I panicked, my arms shook out of their misery. I didn’t know what to do. Then, after a minuet or so, I went back into my room and grabbed the packet the nurse gave me. It had no instructions on what to do if your head is bleeding. Which upset me so, why wouldn’t she put that in the packet? I finished undressing, thinking washing the blood away might help. The water seemed cold, no matter how hot I turned the knob to, it was cold. I didn't care anymore. I sat in the tub and let the water hit my back; I sat in there until I was numb.

After my shower, I got dressed. I did not care what I looked like anymore so I slipped on black sweat pants and a plain white shirt. I did not put makeup on either, it wouldn't help the way my sad eyes, looked, as if my face was trying to swallow my eyes. I packed a bag, to go; I planned to stay somewhere else tonight. I put the packet from the nurse in it, some snacks I usually stashed in my room, clothes and blankets. My hair hung loose across my eyes. I looked very bad; I looked like I had been run over. Pushing my door open, my heart raced. I could still hear hushed voices across the hall. I crept to the back door, hoping that the door wouldn’t creek. It did, the voices stopped, my mom yelled, “Hannah.” I ran with all might as fast as I could. The wind pushed against my face like a hammer, I didn't look back. Bishop lived across town; it would take me about an hour to get there. William wasn’t always the perfect brother; in fact, we hated each other deeply at times.

December 3
“William stop hitting me!” I screeched. As William kept throwing small twigs at me, I continued to yell at him as he laughed. I was ten years old. He was thirteen. I sat on the balcony of the house it was about eight feet in the air. He was below, me and he kept throwing random things at my feet. I was afraid I might lose balance, and fall. I didn’t. I jumped. As I fell on to William, he screamed in horror. I began punching him. At first I was softly, disciplining him. Then, I wanted revenge. When he began to cry, I got off him. My mother stormed outside and grabbed me by the arm. She was angry, but she didn’t hurt me. After she sat me down in the kitchen, she brought William in. William and I both mouthed rude comments to each other, such as; ‘I hate you’ or, ‘this is your entire fault.’ William and I got in a ton of trouble that day. At least I still had him then.

After about ten minuets’ I completely stopped any sort of rush to get to his house. I walked slowly, my head hurt from the running. I felt guilty for not obeying the nurse in that. As I walked, people nodded their heads recognizing me. Empty, my heart, my soul, was blank and empty. I continued my walk to Bishop's house. As I did I starred at our town, and all the happy, innocent people, who had nothing to worry about. I walked along the road. The air was cold, it was hurting my arms. I continued walking down the road, looking behind myself to make sure nobody was following me. When I was five minuets’ from Bishop's house I saw a figure coming towards me. At first it was slow, and then they ran. When they were visible, I ran towards them, it was Bishop. We collided. I couldn't hold the tears in then. His firm arms hugged me as I cried. He whispered to me, “Shhhh Hannah its okay, I’m here now.” When I finally pulled it together, I looked into his deep eyes. His handsomeness made me smile, he smiled too. We walked to his house, his arm comforting my shoulder. No more tears, no more tears, I told myself. We didn't talk as we walked. It was dead silence. Again my head pounded, my breathing was quick and sharp. Bishop looked worried, he kept looking at me. I said nothing. I don’t want to be a victim. A victim of pain; a victim of loss.

Bishop's mother stood in the doorway with tears in her eyes, she knew I was coming. William's death already was spread through the town, anything anyone did, spread, like a wildfire. I walked up the front door steps. Kelly, Bishop's mom, hugged me. She was like a mom to me, ever since I met her. She had red hair and brown eyes. Lemons and mint, lemons and mint. Why did it smell the same, was there any personality to this city, I thought? All of Bishop's siblings crowded me. He had four other siblings. Janna was the second oldest, sixteen. She had fierce red hair, like her mom, and blue eyes. Emily was third oldest she was thirteen, she had sandy brown hair. James was the smallest of all of them, he was six, and he had black hair. Bishop's last name was Digger, Mrs. Digger told me to call her Kelly, ever since I met her, it’s been Kelly. Bishop's dad, Mr. Digger, also told me to call him by his first name, Dawson.

Dawson was usually never home, but Kelly was always at home, caring for her family. I wish I had a mom like that. Bishop and I headed out back to his old tree house, me, him and William used to play in. Bishop handed me a pack of cigarettes. It was illegal for anyone under the age of fourteen to smoke. People rarely smoked at all, it was gross. Bishop and I did it to laugh at each other’s reaction to the bitter tar taste. I smiled at him and lit one. Being the first to inhale it was the funniest, I did it. Right away burning tar filled my throat and sent a sizzling sensation to my chest. I’m not exactly sure what my face looked like, but it must have been priceless. Bishop choked and cried himself from laughter. I stepped on the cigarette to put it out. “Come on, quit it, Bishop.” I said playfully punching him in the side. Then I heard Kelly yell from the kitchen window, “Are you two smoking again! That is very bad for you!!!” I and Bishop nearly died of laughter. Kelly always screamed at us, most of the time she was half joking.


I and Bishop were lured from the old tree house, by Janna. By the time we came in it was nearly dark. We walked inside still laughing. It felt good to laugh and be happy. For dinner we had steak and carrots, although I wasn't hungry, I didn't eat. Kelly totally noticed, and eyed me, almost firmly. There was no talk about William at the table, so I brought it, to show them it was fine to talk about. “Let’s go around and say what your favorite memory of William.” The whole table was shocked. Janna dropped her fork, Kelly choked, and everyone else glanced at me, as if to say, “What did you just say.” Kelly spoke, “That’s a great idea, Hannah. If you don’t want to share that’s fine, but everyone else will. “James will you start off with something you loved about William?” The small child looked up from his plate, with kind eyes. He spoke, “My favorite memory is when William made me a huge bowl of ice cream. It was a Monday, I was sad that day because, I was being bullied at school. William always knew how to cheer people up, without hurting others.”

I smiled at his memory, and spoke, “William made the best ice cream. You are right Will always handled things in the right way. That was a great memory, James. Who’s next?” I noticed everyone smiled at me talking and calling William by his nickname Will. Emily raised her hand, and began talking. “I liked when William would come over and play with all of us. He always included everyone, even when he didn’t want to.” “Ah yes he did,” spoke Bishop. The table gained an awkward silence. So, Janna spoke next, “I have something to tell all of you. I was in love with William.” She spat it out fast; the table had a weird feeling to it. This didn’t shock anyone at the table; we all knew the two of them were always in love. They just didn’t have time to admit it. “We know.” Spoke Kelly. Janna's face turned red boiling over with a blush. Then she spoke, “Yes I wish I had the time to tell him.” Tears formed in her eyes as she left the table.

Bishop drew everyone's eyes from Janna, “Well William was my best friend, and I loved him like a brother. Now that he's gone, we can all try to stay brave for Hannah.” I could tell Bishop was about to cry. He did. He looked embarrassed since he had just said, stay strong for Hannah. Bishop always thought crying was a weakness. It's those people in life who aren't afraid of crying, but afraid of losing their emotions. Kelly noticed everyone's emotions were gathering up like a hive, she spoke, “Hannah stay as long as you need. We are all here for you.” I thanked Kelly and nodded my head. I hoped to stay for a while. I was glad to have lots of support from the people in my life. Bishop got up from the table abruptly, and went back into the tree house. I bit my lip until it bled. Almost as fast as Bishop left, I wiped my tears and left the table, thanking Kelly for the meal. Although not one thing on my plate was gone. The steak stood still mocking my hurts. I walked past the front door, I wanted to find Janna. She stood in the front doorway smoking. Only I didn’t think it was for the fun or laughter. She took one huff and slowly blew it out. She made no bitter face, she only took another puff. I was concerned and sad at once, the small amount of people who got addicted to smoking in Chicago ended up dying, at a young age.

Chapter 5
I went to the tree house. The large old willow covered the sky. The tree house stuck in the middle of it. With rusted brown wood, that made a beautiful look. It was the only thing I witnessed in my town that had personality. The willow wept in the wind, like Bishop wept in the tree. The smell of the tree house brought back a memory. The smell of trees, that’s what I smelt deeply. I wasn’t always an indoor person.

Fall six years ago, I was nine. William I and climbed the large pine, in an old field. He and I used to play in random, abandon fields. Were we felt free. We felt like we finally could have personality. It was our favorite, to be able to leave our house. Since, at times we felt trapped, and abandon, from life. Sticky sap coated my hair, as I grabbed the next branch. The sap caused my hair to stick to the tree and pine needles. I hated it. I was angry at William, for making me have to climb, it was all his idea. He was trying to make me feel brave; he was trying to include me. He was, it just was frustrating. “You can do it, Hannah!” William yelled from the top of the tree. The wind blew my hair in a million directions. My hope slowly left. The tree was tall. A boy from afar shouted, “Girls can't climb trees!” Little did I know I would run into that boy at the age of fifteen? Bishop stood there and watched me as I tried to climb. I was determined to prove him wrong. The rain that day stopped me from proving him wrong.

Bishop's deep voice took the memory from my head faster, and then it came. “Hannah comes up here, its freezing out there.” I climbed the ladder, feeling refreshed from the wind in my face. The coldness numbed my face, but my arms had a cold, burning sensation, that overtook them. It was painful. The splinters on the ladder picked my skin. I hesitated at climbing to the top. I still climbed up, seven feet in the air. Then I entered the platform and walked inside. There were no lights in the tree house, but the light of the moon showed Bishop's ruined heart. His eyes were miserable, puffy like mine were. His hand was shaking fast. He resembled a corps. He could tell I say his pain, he seemed to mind, but he didn’t speak. I did not have to speak to cheer him up. A smile lit up his face like a fire, when he saw me. His deep eyes were sorrow filled. I couldn't smile at the pain. The dread. “Do you want to talk now?” Bishop whispered. I knew he knew I was hiding something painful. I nodded my head, yes. I assumed he saw me, so I spoke on, “My mom has gone crazy.” Bishop didn't ask why or how. The next words I spoke, hurt me and Bishop. “Bishop, I’m dying, there is a bleed in my brain. My mom refused surgery. I have a couple months. I don’t know what to do. I know you knew something was wrong. I’m sorry I haven’t told you yet.”

Bishop's tears fell into the buckets of his hand. His tears flooded the earth. He mumbled words I couldn't hear. As I felt for him in the shadows, I could make out the words he spoke. “This is entirely my fault, I told him not to find out what’s going on. I can't lose you too, Hannah. I can't.” “ Bishop it’s not your fault. ” I gasped. I wasn’t sure what he meant when he said, “I told him not to find out what’s going on.” The wind was mimicking are cries. When I finally found the courage to speak, I whispered to him, “Bishop, we need to drop this, before anyone else gets killed.” Bishop nodded his head in agreement. I felt for him, and hugged him tightly. I felt my own tears fall on his shoulder, only I was ashamed of crying. I was one who hated emotions, yet that’s all I had. After a couple seconds we let go of each other I felt a blush coming from Bishop. He lightly brushed his lips on my hand, across my fingertips. Chills crawled up my arms. It felt weird, I knew he had a love for me, but I wasn’t expecting him to kiss my fingertips. He dropped my hand slowly. I felt my blushing spread across my face. I hoped he didn’t see it. I didn’t want to fall in love, ever with anyone. I didn’t want to have to lose anyone, like my mom. She lost so much from love. I can’t say another hello knowing there will be a goodbye. I don’t want people to love me and then, lose me. We came out of the tree house shortly after that. The rain poured down. Why do the skies cry when I hurt?

Kelly was waiting at the back door, when we walked up. Bishop pushed past her, and ran up the stairs. He seemed upset at Kelly. Kelly just rolled her eyes at him. Kelly didn't speak as she handed me a glass of warm milk. “I don't want it.” Kelly cut me off, “Hannah can't blame yourself for what happened. Starving yourself, won't help anyone.” I knew down inside, I did blame myself for everything, my dad missing, my mom's behavior, and William's death. I hadn’t thought of actually starving myself, until now I had realized that was what I was doing. Punishing myself, that’s exactly what I had been doing, I felt ashamed, embarrassed. My tears came slow, “I’m sorry, Kelly, I’m so sorry. Why do bad things happen to people? What did do to deserve this?” Kelly cried. “I don't know why things like this happen to anyone. I do know sometimes we need to be brave in hard times. Please just drink the milk. Nobody should suffer for others bad consequences. Definitely you should not have to go through this alone. I'm here.” I hugged her for a long time after that. She brushed my hair back from my eyes, while she rocked me back and fourth, like my mom used to do to me.

Kelly gave me a giant slice of chocolate cake. I savored the beautiful taste that coated my tongue. I finished every crumb on my plate, as I glanced at the clock, it read, 12:13 A.M. How time flies. Especially when you’re hurting. More than a day had passed since he was gone. My eyes wandered the world, for something else to think about, to have hope for. I wandered my eyes to Janna, who was still outside, smoking. I could see her through the window, as I looked, I saw Janna throw a empty cigarette packet to the ground. There were five empty packets lying on the front porch. I waited for her to come inside, only, she never did. I saw her figure walk away in the shadows of the night. I worried about Janna, and mad for leaving her family. Kelly seemed not notice. I thought I should tell her, I didn’t. Kelly told me that I would be staying in the guest bedroom. She began explaining where it was, I cut her off, “I know, our house is identical, almost every house is.” She nodded her head in almost disappointment. As I rinsed my dishes, Kelly went to bed. The hallway, so familiar, to my house. The living room gave me chills remembering my scuffle. The guest bedroom was across from the kitchen. The dark shadows casted fears into my brain. I saw the shadows of William and my mother. I wondered if the man was looking for me. Would I be in trouble? Did I care, if I was? Nothing could go worse. The boards of the floor creaked as I walked across the hall. Again the sparking eyes watched me, stared into my heart. They chose to haunt me forever more.

When I got to the room I looked around, I’d seen the model over a million times. Shear curtains, flooded the giant window. Silk, blue, bedding swallowed the bed. It was heavily cushioned with sinking padding. Nobody in Chicago was poor; everyone was treated like a queen. I didn't bother changing my clothes, I didn't mind. I usually did care. I thought that people would judge me if I didn’t wear pajamas. I made myself at home and unpacked my bag. I put the snacks in the drawer, hung my clothes up, and put the packet from the nurse on the night stand. I read over the packet. The first thing I noticed was the address in the corner of the page. I assumed that it was the nurse’s address, the nurse that I judged. I also saw the three worded sentence, come by anytime. I felt bad for thinking bad of her. All at once I felt like I had so much support. I looked around the room one last time, and studied it, the perfection. I turned out the lights and slowly draped across the bed. I pulled the covers up to my neck, even though I wasn't cold. I was afraid; the covers were like a shield, to protect me from the sadness that lingered in me. It was afar but, it was still in me. I wasn’t sure if it was more of a sickness knowing with a 99% chance that William was indeed murdered, and that I was in danger too, or that I would be dying soon. Death creeps upon you, and there is no way to end it. I could die tomorrow and it could be not from my brain bleed. I thought of the factor that I could be in terrible danger, due to the fact that they killed William. Were they after my family? What did William find out that cause someone to kill him? The thing was, is that who was they? Death, a terrible thing that can tear people apart, it was slowly ripping me up. My hope was running away from me, in was empty. A small voice told me told me I was nothing. Could I believe lies? I thought of my family. It was small, but I had the thought of how my mom could be in danger. Even though she hit me, and basically, wished death for me, I still found love for her in my heart; it was a lot of concern. I was almost upset of feeling that way towards my mom. Having love for her felt wrong. Yet, I feeling bad about loving my mom brought a worse pain to my head. My head, the pain, it was a thumping, it was small, it was painful. Was I going to die right now? I wished it would not be now, just give me tomorrow. I tossed and turned for awhile, I tried to sleep, but his voice brought tears to my eyes. William’s beautiful words filled my brain. The words slipped out from beneath my lips. “It’s not about winning the race; it’s about finishing the race.” That was his favorite quote. Now he wasn’t here. I repeated the words over and over until I lost breath.

I did not sleep. I did not dream. I hoped everything that happened was a terrible, dream. The challenges we face in life aren't a dream, we wish they were. Nothing can change what happens to us. My mother used to whisper that to me when I was hurting. She wasn't here to tell me that, anymore. William and my mom always had quotes and inspirational words to tell. My family was like a large book of poems, I will always miss the fact that the book, has already ended. I felt uncomfortable; unsteady. The smallest lining of blood filled my lips. My brain bleeds, my lips mumbled as I tried to drift away, to sleep. I felt like a drifting boat on water, I felt nauseas and it felt like more blood filled my mouth. I had hoped that it was a dream. I knew it wasn’t. The blood dripped onto the perfect pillow.