Chloe felt her left pocket vibrate, snapping her back to the present. She brushed her graying blonde hair out of her face and reached down her pocket to pull out her cell phone. From the lock screen she could read the short text her sister sent her.

Everything okay? The message read.

Chloe swiped the screen to reply but hesitated. What was she supposed to say to that? Yes? But she isn’t. Amy’s not here and never will be again; the bottom of Naryville Lake and Amy herself saw to that. No? But being here puts Chloe at ease. Being in Amy’s room, trailing her fingers along the light switch Amy herself had used so many times, and drinking in Amy’s signature cherry blossom aroma all over her bedsheets and furniture eased Chloe’s weakened heart. This is Amy; Amy is here.

Amy was here, she reminded herself. Chloe felt her heart leap to her throat, and her chest tightened. She began to feel dizzy. She turned away from the window and placed her oxygen tank back on the bed next to where she would sit. As she began to strategically rotate her body to keep her plugged in to the tank, her eye caught the corner of a dark grey book--the only thing in the room that looked out of place--lying on the other windowsill, semi-hidden behind the lavender curtains.

Chloe picked up her oxygen tank to approach and investigate the mysterious book. Upon extracting it from behind the curtain, she saw it was a journal. Its hematite color branded it as a foreign object amid a room full of soft pinks, purples, and the occasional yellow. Chloe opened the journal and found a messaged scrawled inside the front cover in messy handwriting:

Brandon’s journal. Don’t touch my shit.

That explains it, Chloe thought. This journal belongs to Amy’s ex. She recalled one evening in which Amy had informed her of their breakup, which had occurred several months before Amy’s body was found. She knew the police had questioned Brandon, but he had been in rehab for a while, so there wasn’t much that he knew. Strange his journal would be here though, as he went missing the day after Amy’s funeral, which was last month. This meant he must have been here, not in rehab, but how could he have gotten in? The last time Chloe had been here she could have sworn she locked all the doors and windows. What’s more, why would he leave this here?

Chloe turned the page to the actual pages for writing. To her surprise, the very first page was blank. Beside the first page were torn remains from the pages in front of it. Based on the thick bunch of tears, it appeared many pages were torn from the journal. Chloe leafed through the rest of the journal to check that she wasn't missing anything. All she found was blank page after blank page. As she reached the back cover, however, a loose journal page slid out from inside the back cover and drifted to the floor. Bracing herself, Chloe inhaled sharply and slowly bent over to reach it. Her lungs, knees, and back ached in protest, but she was determined to read whatever may be on the loose page.

Once she had it, she gradually righted herself and sank back on the bed behind her. Sure enough, there was a message in the same messy handwriting as before:

Amy,

What's it like up there? Seen grandma? I want to tell you I'm sorry I hurt you. Wish you were here so I could tell you in person. I see now what Harvey meant to you. So yeah I'm sorry. If you see grandma give her hell for me. Love you bunny-butt.

-Brandon

Chloe tried hard not to let her hands shake too much as she finished reading. Bunny-butt? Chloe was glad they hadn't been dating anymore. She read back over his words a second and third time, trying to make sense of them, ignoring the last sentence. What exactly had Brandon done that hurt Amy enough to warrant leaving this letter? Who is Harvey? She wished she had been in more contact with Amy the last couple years, then maybe she would know more about these people.

Chloe's oxygen tank beeped, and she pressed a button on the side to silence it, jolting her back to the present again.

Chloe fumbled around for her phone. She replied to her sister with, Yes. Be down shortly.

She shuffled across the room and paused at the door. She smiled fondly back at the room before heading downstairs. Opening the front door flooded the house with sunlight and a mild breeze. Chloe shielded her eyes as she stepped outside.

What she did not expect to see was a teenage boy with messy chestnut hair standing on the front lawn. He wore black tennis shoes, khaki pants, and a short-sleeve turquoise polo. In one hand was some kind of smartphone, and in the other a lead pipe covered in some kind of black liquid dangling by his side. When he saw Chloe, his eyes widened and his mouth formed a perfect O. He whipped his phone away and jammed it into his pocket.

"Uh...I'm sorry," he said as he spun on his heel and sprinted off down the street.

Chloe's eyes burned, and her hands started shaking again. Every muscle in her body screamed at her to chase after the boy, but her heart and lungs screamed for her to collapse and forget today. She felt tears well up in her eyes once more. Not because of the blinding sunlight, not because she had just emerged from her daughter's room, but because her eyes caught the name tag sticker he wore that his phone concealed before he pocketed it. The name tag read, "Hello, My Name Is Harvey."

Chloe walked into her daughter Amy’s dark bedroom and sat on the neatly made bed, after opening the windows. She carefully looked around, with her weak flickering eyes, while breathing through the nasal cannula, because without it, she’d have a hard time breathing alone. Her illness has gotten worse, and her pain hasn’t shown any progress to recede. But tomorrow was always on her mind, for her hope hasn’t wilted yet. One day, I’d be okay, a song that constantly played in her head.

After Chloe inhaled the fresh air into her soft lungs, she scanned the room, and found it being too tidy clean. Everything was perfectly organized, which always made her quite surprised. A bright smile lurked on her face, and she felt her weak heart skip beats. The bed didn’t even have a tiny wrinkle on it. Amy arranged her books according to subject matters, on the small and slim black bookshelf. A desktop computer with a monitor screen sat in the middle, with two wireless speakers on the opposite edges of the study desk. The closet looked spotless, for Amy folded her clothes by colors and sizes. Her shoes were perfectly aligned on the shoe rack inside the closet. There were music band posters posted above the long drawer as Amy mostly loved listening to Hip Hop and Rock N Roll.

When Chloe turned her attention, she saw a well-framed, big photo album on the bed-stand. She opened it and looked through it. The album was filled with unforgettable memories they both shared. When Chloe saw Amy’s sparkling smiles on one of the pictures, she remembered the place she had taken it. It was a place she’d never forget, for they had gone to on a special cruise vacation, mother and daughter together. Suddenly, tears made their ways down to the corners of her red eyes, raging faster than a wildfire and dropped on Amy’s sparkling face. She wiped off the fallen tears and let her fingers linger over her daughter’s blushing face. For a second, she felt her hands shake in fear.

Chloe silently studied everything about her daughter and felt proud of Amy. She thought of herself as a lucky mother because being a teenager at Amy’s age, most of them are trouble makers for their parents. But Chloe felt super about her daughter, for Amy has always been an exception to the rules of teenagers; she was rather a child with a heart of an angel. Chloe often thought that she gave birth to an angel than to a human flesh, because she wondered about Amy’s brave and big heart.

Chloe sighed heavily once more and soaked in all the air in the room as much as her deteriorating lungs could master and stood up to head out. She knew the imminent darkness might’ve been near, yet she refused to close her eyes forever. Not just yet. Since the bad news broke, she’s been struggling with her diagnosis and refused to go through all the recommended procedures by her doctors.

When she got closer to the exit, she looked outside through the clear window panes and saw the burning flames of the sun. She smiled happily, although she felt an excruciating sharp pain in her stomach.

She’s accepted that maybe science can’t fix everything, so they should then be left to fate.

Six thousand breaths of air later, Chloe sat in Amy's room again. Why did she have to die? Why did she have to be taken from this world - because Chloe could not believe she had committed suicide? And, who was Harvey? Why had she never met him?

So many questions, too many questions... and not enough time. Her lungs had months. Maybe days. She'd be dead within the year, that much was sure. Not nearly enough time. Not enough time to find the truth, to convince the police there was more to her death. Not enough time. There was never enough time.

How to find the truth?

Her watch beeped. It was time for her doctors appointment. Should she tell, of what was on her mind? Or should she stay silent? Fear of being labeled insane kept her quiet. She went in, she came out.

Hope was what she needed right now. Hope was what she needed.

And, just like that, she ran into Harvey.

"You knew Amy?" Chloe asks in a hoarse voice. Harvey looks up as if struck by a bolt of lightning.

"Y-yes... who are you?" Chloe does everything in her power not to glare.

"I'm her mother." He awkwardly bows.

"I'm sorry about what happened to her. I wish I could...."

"Wish you could what?" He stops suddenly, as if realizing he'd made a mistake.

"I wish I could have saved her. Before she... took her life." Chloe is hit by a sudden crippling burst of pain, making her double over. accompanied by her anger. SHE DIDN'T COMMIT SUICIDE!! Of this she was sure. But, the question was, how could she prove it?

And, how could she survive the process?

"Ma'am, are you okay?" She gives a curt nod.

"Fine," she rasps, standing upright again and starting to walk home. "I'm fine." She can feel his eyes on her back as she walks off.

Amy, Amy, who is he? Why are you dead? Who... who killed you? The word dead and the word killed linger in her head like a migraine. So much pain. What to do with it?

Home was cold and empty without her daughter, so she went back to her room. Amy would be back.. she'd be back... she wasn't dead... she was.... at college, at college, that was it. She'd be.... back.

"Mama, mama, don't cry," Amy says, putting both arms around Chloe. "It's college, I'll be back..." Tears streamed down Chloe's face, uncontrolled. Her sight was trapped in a memory, but her mind was in another time, in the future, where her daughter would never come home from college.

"I love you.. Amy," her voice says. "I love you. Be safe. And remember... I'll always love you."

Amy nods, with the innocence of a five year old, the maturity of a forty year old, and the ebullient joy of being on one's own.

"Yes, Mama. I'll be back to visit soon!"

She'll be back, thinks Chloe. She'll be back.