Hey There Delilah, Chapter Ocho (8)

Previously:
"Yes, Delilah. I want you to write to her. You can still write whatever you would like, but it has to be to Delilah." I could already feel the tears welling up in my eyes. Don't cry! Don't cry! a tiny voice shouted from within me.
"I-I-I can't!"
"Maybe you don't think you can just yet, but you will. You will."

COOKOO! COOKOO! The sound made me drop the book on the floor. "Eeekkk!" I screeched.
"Sorry about that," Leila said. "You'll get used to it." The alarming noise had come from a cookoo clock near Leila's desk. As I caught my breath Leila showed me to the door. "I'll see you next week!" she chirped as I walked out.
"Yeah, okay," I said, still in shock. I could see my mother waiting for me by the door.
"You can tell me all about it in the car," she said before I could open my mouth. "We're late for your appointment."

It was 7:30 later that night. My windows were open, letting the cool breeze dance across my cheeks. I had my radio on, but I wasn't paying attention to it. Mindlessly, I was stroking my kitten, DJ. Delilah had given her to me for my birthday a few days before "it" happened, so it only made sense that she was present for this moment. "Alright DJ. Here goes nothing!" I slowly opened the tie-dyed journal from Leila. As I did, a wave of familiarity washed over me. There was something about the book that I couldn't describe, not then, not now. As my palms softly rested on the first page I felt a surge of energy rush through me. It felt like I had been electrocuted, but not enough to kill me. The music coming from my radio came to a stand still as I scrawled out the first words that came to me:

Hey there Delilah, it's me: Jolie.