Jason's POV:
From the end of Anne's journal, it sounded as if Anne wasn't going to write anymore because she was planning on ending her life. The idea of Anne ending her life left me breathless and overcome with blind panic. I put the journal back where I had found it, and then put Anne and my clothes away. Soon after I finished, the front door shut and I heard Anne calling my name.
"I'm upstairs, Anne." I responded, and heard Anne's footsteps coming up the stairs. She came into our bedroom, and sat next to me on the bed.
"Are you okay, love?" Anne inquired.
"I'm fine. Just tired." I replied.
"Okay. Well, I'm going to start making dinner. What do you want?" Anne asked.
"Pizza, if we have any." I said.
"Okay. Come down when you're ready?" Anne asked, leaning over and pressing a kiss to my cheek. I nodded, and Anne went back downstairs. I could hear her bustling about in the kitchen, and the sound of her bumping in to things. Anne had a tendency to do that, mostly because she moves around fairly quickly without paying much attention to where she is going. I went back over to the dresser, and pulled out Anne's journal again. I flipped to the second to last entry, which was dated two years ago, and started to read.
'I met the most amazing man today. He's a teacher at a boarding school here. I don't know if we're going to go anywhere, but he did ask me out on a date, and I'm looking forward to it. I hope that this goes somewhere-at least somewhere better than my last one went, at least. Jason wouldn't tell me where our date would be-he said he'd be picking me up at seven thirty, and to wear something comfortable, and sneakers. I feel like things are finally looking up. I still wish I knew why I feel like dressing like a guy at some times, and like a woman at others, but I have no idea. I could never tell anyone this about myself-it would be too much of a risk. I don't know how anyone I was with would react if I told them about myself. I was planning on ending my life, but now, I'm glad I didn't. Missing out on meeting Jason would've been a bad thing.'
The entry ended there, and I was so absorbed in thinking over the words, that I failed to hear Anne's footsteps on the stairs.
"Jason, love, dinner's ready-is that my journal?" Anne inquired. I held it out to her, and she snatched it away from me.
"Did you read any of it?" Anne demanded. I nodded, and looked down at the floor.
"It's an old journal, Jason. It doesn't mean anything." Anne said, tossing her journal in the trash next to the door, and stomping out of our room.
"Shit shit shit." I muttered, laying down on the bed.