I kept a journal.
It held many things. Secrets, hopes, dreams, confessions.
I made sure to keep it hidden. With the war these days, secrets don't stay secret for long.
I wrote in it every day. I hoped my feelings would change, but they were stubborn.
I wish I didn't feel these things. I felt horrible, abominable, disgusting. But I couldn't change it.
I went about my days feeling this, hiding it. Nobody could know. So I made sure to keep it hidden.
But as I mentioned before, secrets don't stay secret for long.
I had a nightmare. I woke up a sweaty mess in my room. It was early morning, and the sun had not risen yet.
John.
I was still shaking.
I need you.
I got dressed and went outside. It was a sunny morning, and the air had not warmed up from the cold night. The mailman came up to my house and handed me a letter. I went inside and sat down for a morning meal to read it.
It read:
My Dear Laurens,
I read your letters to me. I must say with all honesty that I reciprocate your intimate feelings towards me. Please meet me at our usual spot at the pub at 10 in the evening tomorrow.
With all love, AH
My heart thumped in my ears. I didn't send him any letters. How did he know?
I ran to my bedroom. I frantically searched for my journal. I looked in my old boot. That's where I normally hid it.
It was gone.
My journal full of all of my secrets. Gone.
I wrote in it last night. Someone had to have come in, known where it was, taken it, and given it to Alexander.
And there was only two people in the world who knew where I hid my journal.
I grabbed my coat and ran.