99. Hold On

There’s a town full of mysteries out there. A town just outside my door.

A town full of evil.

I sit in my bedroom, full of questions, full of fear, feeling alone.

I finally pull out the Bible that I gave Jocelyn. The Bible that my father gave me. I slip open the letter and read it.

It’s not dated. It’s in her handwriting.

Dear Chris,

If you’re reading this letter, it probably means that the worst has happened. That the bad has outshadowed the good. It means that what I thought might happen did.

So let me tell you this.

I’m not afraid.

And I believe, without a doubt, that I’m in a better place. A place where there’s only good. A place where I no longer have to fear—or regret—or apologize—or run.

I believe in this place, Chris.

You gave me this Bible, and it provided answers.

You gave me your heart, too, and it provided hope.

Hope that someone could love me unconditionally.

So I give them both back to you.
I give you this book because you not only need answers, Chris, you also need hope.

This whole dark world needs hope.

Hold on to it.

And hold on to the other thing I gave you.

Something you’ve had for a while now.

My heart.

Take good, special care of yourself.

Perhaps Midnight will be a comfort to you like she’s been to me.

I love you. Thank you for loving me back.

I have to believe that love continues. I believe it will. And I believe that I’ll be able to watch out for you.

Jocelyn

I fold up the letter and feel like she’s right there, talking to me.

Maybe she is.

I look at the Bible and don’t know whether to toss it in the woods or open it up and start reading. I decide to do neither.

I stay there, sitting on the floor next to my bed where a stuffed and happy Midnight is curled up. I stay there for some time, thinking of the letter, thinking what it means.

Wondering what tomorrow will bring.