The day I found the second cube:

As I pick up the second cube, several emotions run through me all at once...confusion, excitement, and a little bit of anticipation. But also, worry. What did they mean? Are there more? Are they safe? What would Sawyer think?

Maybe I wouldn't tell him...I mean, he has enough going on with school. And maybe his family. He doesn't need any more stress or confusion.

So I hid the second cipher cube.

...

One Month After I Found The Cube:

I eventually apologized to Sawyer. And we had come to an understanding. We were on speaking terms but, it wasn't the same. We wouldn't laugh or joke as much, and the conversations became stiff and awkward. I desperately missed our old relationship.

Still... I didn't tell him about the cube.

Sawyer began to draw a lot. Under the tree, by the fence, on the side of the street...in the woods. I watched sometimes, when I thought he wasn't looking. Sawyer was taller nowadays, still skinny as a twig, but taller nonetheless. He wore long sleeves a lot now, I knew why...it covered up the bruises and scrapes, along with the  fingernail markings from where they had grabbed him. It was heartbreaking

I wished there was something I could do.

Around this time, the doctors had finished their examinations and autopsys on Willow. And the day of the funeral was approaching fast. I dreaded it, I dreaded seeing her lying in her coffin. I dreaded the pitying looks, and the blame that would be placed on my shoulders. Like a 50 pound weight. Mostly though, I dreaded the thought of talking to Willow's parents, and feeling their quiet disappointment and fury.

...

The Day of Willow's Funeral:

I look in the mirror. Black. Everything is black. My dress, my shoes, my hair...the bags under my eyes. The sky is cloudless and blue, as if it was mocking my current predicament. 

The car ride to the funeral is quiet and solemn. My parents in the front, and Sawyer and I in the back. Sawyer is drawing with a ballpoint pen in his now beat-up sketchbook. Though I can't see what he is drawing.

The car comes to a halt in front of a small forlorn graveyard, its a strange contrast. The bright flowered boquets of pink and blue, with our dark clothes and even darker expressions.

We walk quietly past countless other dark shining gravestones, but only one is important to me. And its straight ahead. It reads:

Willow Grace Deira

1994-2016

"The Brightest Things Fade the Fastest"

I don't really listen most of the service. Instead, I twist my fingers painfully together and cry quietly near the back. Mouthing over and over 'I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry'.

My mom sits next to me on the grass, rocking me gently, and whispering calming words.

Some more people come talk to me, my dad, Willow's parents, Rosie, even Sawyer.

They all say the same things: "Don't blame yourself" "I wasn't your fault" "She's in a better place now". But somehow I don't believe it.

Once the service is over, my mom leaves to find a bathroom, and I find myself alone. I walk over the the newly placed headstone, and trail my fingers over the carved letters. Quietly, having cried all my tears. Someone touches my shoulder, gently.

I turn....it's Sawyer again. He hands me a single white rose.

*I thought you might want to give her something, I found it lying on the ground.*

I nod, and place the white rose next to the rest of the flowers.

"Why did you come Sawyer?" I ask, my voice barely a whisper.

*She's important to you, so she's important to me*

"Thank you" I whisper.

And when my mom comes back, she finds me hugging Sawyer as if he is my lifeline.

To be honest, he kind of is.