The rest of the day at Dahlia's passes by in a blur. All Adius can see is Hope and home and the package. On the ride back, he's anxious. So anxious that his leg is bouncing and his fingers are tapping obnoxiously on the window. His dad, noticing it all, decides not to comment on it.

He also keeps his words to himself as his son flies from the car before he can even properly park the vehicle. Adius is up the stairs and in his room before he can get through two breaths, his hand searching for the package under his bed not even a moment later.

He doesn't waste any time opening it either. Through his nerves, he manages to carefully tear the top portion of the envelope off and slide the contents out. He tosses the envelope and settles the contents that Hope had left him on his bed.

He doesn't know what to make of it, so he reaches for the thing that might explain everything. A black leather-bound book is what he picks up. The cover is worn and a strip of extra leather is wrapped around several times to hold its contents in place. The strap has intricate leather work that leads him to believe this book might be some kind of collectible. Adius unwraps it, his hands trembling.

Opening the cover, a woodsy scent immediately envelopes him. It fills the room and him with something warm. He shakes his head and swallows. On the inside of the front cover the number four is written and scratched into the leather. It covers nearly every empty portion of exposed space. His brows furrow, but he flips through a couple more pages, and eventually comes across something that looks a lot like a journal entry.

It's titledLetter to Adonisand dated months ago.

He does the only thing he really can and reads. His eyes follow every twirl and dip and curve that he knows was drawn by Hope's steady hand. And when he finishes that entry he moves on to the next. Questions start to jumble his head and ring in his ears as his eyes trail her words, her thoughts. What hadn't she told him? What could have been so important- so urgent- yet not?

He flips the page again.

His eyes fill with tears that he refuses to shed.

His lips tremble but he doesn't acknowledge them.

He reads and he feels her fear, her worry, herlove.In her third entry, he can feel that air of whimsical energy that initially drew him to her. She was like a trickster faerie that wanted someone to play with. But in her fourth letter, he feels nothing but fear and anxious energy.

She was scared of something, absolutely terrified, if the tone and the shakiness of her writing is anything to go by. His breathing nearly stops as he reads her final line:"don't trust a word out of my mouth". Rearing back, he whispers to himself, "What the hell?" The tingles shooting up his spine and the goosebumps now on his arms lead him to close the book.

Hands at his face, he sighs. Absolutely nothing has changed.

Adius kicks off his shoes and draws his legs up to his chest. He rests his head on his knees and closes his eyes. He had hoped the package would shed some light on the situation. He had hoped for answers of some kind, but that obviously isn't what he's getting. He never really got what he wanted when it came to that girl.

She always had a knack for manipulating situations to her liking. Even beyond the grave, she was still getting her way.

As he rubs at his eyes something thuds beside him and he jumps from the bed. Next to where he had sat, the leather book lays open, the pages lifting and flipping in front of his very eyes. They stop at a page about half way through. "Hope?" He calls out quietly.

The boy receives no response, and instead of taking the rational route and high tailing it straight out of his haunted house, he takes several steps closer to the possessed book. He bends over it and glances over the page. It seems like it lists the steps to something.

Squinting, Adius reads out loud, "Number one,

He is to thee,

What thou is to me,

A whisper and a spell,

A drop within a well,

A shiver and a drawl,

A sound bouncing from the wall,

A moment then shall pass,

A particle in the glass,

Then the beating of several hearts,

Will beat-- rhythms in each part"

And while he bends over the strange leather book, trying in vain to decipher the rhyming words, that familiar feeling of warmth comes over him. He looks up, and their eyes meet once again. To see her smile is almost heartbreaking. The boy can't even manage to push her name off of his tongue.

Her hand, somehow warm and soft, trails down the side of his face, and he can't help but shut his eyes as he takes in a shaky breath. "You can help me. You can bring me back," She whispers to him.

"But how?" She sits him on the bed and motions to everything around him.

"With this, Adonis. You have almost everything you need. You just have to read." Her eyes turn glassy. "Please.I'm so scared here." The boy grabs at her hand and pulls her to him. She feels so real. How does she feel so real?

"Just... Just tell me what to do, and I'll do it," Is his response.

She starts to tremble in his arms, and he can't bear it. "I was never supposed to die," Hope cries. She sniffs loudly and continues. "But they said that if you do these things on the list, I can come back. I want to come back."

Confusion floods Adius' veins, but that's nothing new. "What?"

Hope pulls away. "I can come home if everything on this list is completed before-" She suddenly stiffens and looks behind herself. She sees something that the boy doesn't. Standing, she rushes out, "Here, take this." She places something sharp and cold into his hand. "As long as you have this, I can find you and you can call me. I have to go."

Corrina leans in, her hair clouding everything around her, and places a kiss on the highest part of Adius' forehead. "Be safe." Then she's gone before he can get another word in.

He sits in silence, his fingers closed over whatever was placed in them and his heart beating painfully. There's this tiny, almost minuscule, part of him that wants to toss everything from that package into a black garbage bag and throw it out of his window. That part wants to go to his computer and erase every picture that he had taken of Hope.

That part of him wants to backspace every word that he had written about her. It wants to forget that she existed just like everyone else had.

But the larger part, the stupider part, the crazier part, wants lay back on the bed and read through every part of that musty book. It wants to look at every trinket and go over every possibility. It wants to bring her back, it wants her to be remembered.

And so as his phone rings, he answers, "Hey. Yeah I'm fine. Yeah, I opened it. Could you meet me tomorrow? Yeah. Bring a backpack and wear comfortable shoes. Okay, see you soon." And he plans. And he starts to count down the moments until he gets to see his girl again.