Heart racing, Jessica dashed into the bedroom. She scrambled about like a madwoman while holding her head. “I never moved it! I know I didn’t!” she rambled on, trying to recall where she’d left the diary if she hadn’t returned it to its hiding place.
Her world was crashing down. She walked in circles, fretting. That diary had her secrets. All of them. “No one can find my diary. No one!”
“Jessica,” someone whispered from behind her. The familiar monotone paralyzed her in spot. The entire room suddenly went cold.
“That can’t be,” she breathed.
Shakily, she hugged herself and turned around to confirm the source of the voice. Jessica’s eyes expanded. She couldn’t believe what was before her. There, sitting at the edge of the bed, was Peter. Skin so pale, eyes no longer grey but like white crystal balls filled with pain. He flipped through her diary, grimacing in disgust at every page.
“P-Peter?” Jessica stuttered in shock. “But you’re dead!”