Annabelle's POV

Once again I was the one running away. Once again I had too many problems to count. Once again I chose to ignore all my issues and run away.

I got changed, packed a bag and drove off.

This time I didn't know when I was coming back. Or if I even wanted to.

Jameson was my best friend but every time I try to help it just seems to ruin everything. I know he is hurt and mad but he was also right. I couldn't fix everything. I can't fix him.

I wanted to cry.

If I cried it might help.

I only felt numb.

The roads were silent. It seemed like I was the only person driving off to nowhere.

There was one place I could go. I would finish my cold case and no one would bother me. Mostly because they wouldn't know where I was.

I pulled the car over to type in the directions. Before I got back on the road I shot Ethan a text.

Anna- I'm going to the Resits library, which I won. If anyone asks I am unavailable.

—------------------------------

By the time I arrived, it was past 1:30. I was also now more aware of the idiocy of coming here alone and in the middle of the night. No going back now.

I walked up to the building. It blended in with the other properties of the block. It looked rather old and the door was weathered and had rust on the hinges.

The door had a code and a fingerprint.

Above the handle, there were initials carved into the door.

A F C.

My initials.

I pressed my pointer finger on the door. I waited a beat before walking inside.

The second I had light poured down blinding me. I covered my eyes trying to adjust.

The room was rather bland. It was set up just like a waiting room for an appointment. To the side there was a coffee table and a few chairs and right by the entry to the library there was a receptionist desk.

The only thing that had changed since the last time I was here was a painting hanging above the door. It displayed a large ship battling the sea. If it had been real life the ship would be close to sinking. The wave in the distance of the artwork would have taken it out.

I turned away from the art and looked towards the desk.

As I get closer I see a rolled-up piece of paper lying on the other side. I reach over the desk standing on the tips of my feet. I undo the thin piece of tape on the front and unravel the paper.

It's blank.

I hold it up to the light. Still blank.

I shrug it off knowing there is something that I will have to use it for later. I reach for the door handle to the library.

I pull on it.

It doesn't budge.

I try again.

Nothing.

I rush to check the exit door.

Once again it doesn't even move.

I'm locked in here.

I slide down to the floor wrapping my hands around the front of my legs. It hurts. Everything hurts.

It aches. I feel it in my bones. Everywhere.

I didn't know that it would be that date. I knew that it would be about Emily but not that date.

Tonight wasn't just for the two of them. It was also a reality check for me. A reminder of everything I tried to stop but couldn't.

Jameson would talk to me again. Grayson would go back to pretending he wasn't watching me every time I walked into a room. I would go back to being a pessimist who ignored expressing emotions.

I didn't want that though.

I also didn't want to be that girl climbing the lighthouse.

I wanted to be me, the me I had right before I gave up.

There was one way I could get that. I had one last challenge to win.

I moved towards the paper I left on the desk. Holding up towards the light once more I noticed something. It looked shiny. This meant the invisible ink was identifiable by black light but something else. A liquid.

Most likely a lemon.

My favourite.

I rummaged through the only place that had some sort of invisible identifier. It seemed as though there were too many drawers and cabinets at the reception desk.

I reached for the bottom cupboard. Inside was a mini fridge. I opened it. Little icicles lay along the sides, and a bag of frozen lemons lay in the middle of the shelf.

It took a moment to get them to reveal what was on the letter.

Which was almost confusing.

Dear Annabelle,

If you have received this letter I am assuming the first half of the puzzle has been solved. My grandsons did not listen to your warnings and you are thinking of me as a man who wants to hurt his grandchildren so they realise their faults.

In ways you are right. I knew that it would hurt them but they are family. they were slowly destroying themselves and not even you could save them.

You would have to stop playing the game, I cannot allow that. Both of them need you.

There is a key hidden in the room. It will unlock the doors and unlock the last box needed to solve the clue.

You won't be able to just give them the key.

There is a mystery there for you to solve.

You may struggle but life has much more certainty over death.

- Tobias Hawthorne

Tobias Hawthorne was a mystery. Something that seemed impossible to ever work out.

Every letter, puzzle, and clue seemed to lead to a different intention of his.

Luckily I am smart enough to figure it out.

He always knew Jameson would go to Avery. He wants the win the most and understands there will always be clues and things that will be useful during the game. 

Seemingly Jameson is probably the only one who would make Avery interested enough to play. Simply due to his natural delusion.

Grayson would start the hunt for the clues as soon as something evident was found. That's why the first task involved the book in the circular library. Grayson needed to watch his brother and a task like looking through books in an open area was perfect.

Nash would have always paid no attention to the game until he was necessary. The second his brothers needed him he would have been there.

He knew exactly how I would react. Jameson would pull me around getting me to join. I would but I was never fully there. Never fully invested. Not till the last clue we needed when for a second I felt the thrill of winning. That's why it needed to be something to devastate all of us. So I would run off to collect the key for the final clue. Alone.

Finally Xander. The least competitive but the smartest player. The only player who was closest to the controller. Xander would watch and make sure everyone kept playing until the answer was found.

The old man tricked us all into playing. The only strange thing was that I didn't feel uninterested in it. It almost made it more exciting.

A smile crept up on my face.

Time to find my key.

—------------------------------

There was nothing in my letter. The last line was too cryptic and it had to do with my puzzle. I looked around the room once more.

"Life has more certainty over death"

The ship was close to destruction. In other words, it was close to death.

Dragging a chair I sauntered over and took a look.

There didn't seem to be a clue or button on the front. I moved my arm around and lifted the painting. Behind it was a carved hole that could have held a safe of sorts. The only thing that did lie there was a ring box.

I reached for it fast. A key wasn't inside, but there was a small folded piece of paper.

41 b c 8 p f 2

The numbers seemed like nothing. It was almost as if some just randomly typed them.

I plugged it into my phone. It kept trying to correct a math equation.

What the hell did this mean?

I stepped back to the desk looking through any more draws that I missed. One draw was locked. I looked at the one above it. I slowly ran my finger along the sides. There was a bump right at the back corner. I popped it up. The drawer below contained a computer, a box cutter, and a pen.

I place everything down on the floor in front of me. The computer had to be first.

Welcome

Annabelle Faye Casey

Password: ........

The password was 8 digits. Luckily so was the code I had just gotten.

Once the computer was unlocked it opened right to a document.

The walls are still white today.

The people sit impatiently

even if the event is hours away

Refusing to let their mind wander aimlessly.

They have only one focus

One they wished they did not notice.

It seems as if it is just a game.

It could never be a distraction.

Only endless bouts of shame.

It's just waiting.

It shouldn't be this hard

Your mind does all the debating

The wondering when you'll have to send your regards.

The walls will never not be white.

The dred will never change.

Your thoughts won't leave the fight.

Not until the final exchange.

The poem had no sign-off or anything.

I remembered it. I read it when I was 12. Young Amara Cliff wrote it. She had just been diagnosed with cancer and constantly had to sit in waiting rooms. This was the first poem she wrote after her diagnosis.

There was a waiting room.

—------------------------------------------

I tore everything apart. There was no clue or answer or anything.

I had to use the pen or the box cutter.

The box cutter could be used on the seats. Something might be hidden inside, although that would be messy and just seem wrong.

I reached out to the pen.

There was nothing out of the ordinary. I clicked it. A dim purple-coloured light was shown on the floor below me. It was a black light.

I looked through everything again. Nothing.

The walls were white, just like the poem.

In a second I found the next clue.

ASK A WORTHWHILENESS PASSION PACK

It made no sense.

I ran a search engine. It came up with nothing. The only websites were ones that wanted to "Help you find your passion".

I searched "worthwhileness passion pack" which led me to synthetic hair.

This made no sense.

I wandered around the room racking my brain for answers. There was nothing.

In less than a second of walking around, I tripped on something and fell face-first on the floor.

I felt a sharp pain on my face. Instinctively my hand moved to touch it. Blood.

I pulled out my phone to look at the camera. There was now a cut from my nose to the corner of my lip.

I scraped it on the corner of the art piece.

I looked closer at the corner. A name was engraved on the frame.

Thomas birch.

My fingers typed quickly.

He was an American painter.

The artwork here was famous. The name was "Ship at Sea also known as Shipwreck".

This happened to contain all of the letters in my last clue.

This was the answer. I jumped up and grabbed the box cutters. It would be a shame to cut into such a pretty piece.

I slowly glided the knife at the edges of the artwork. It was actually pretty straight.

Underneath the oil painting, there was another ring box. It was a pure white colour that almost seemed to be calling to me.

I opened it.

A pure gold key was in the slot.

I found it.

I won. 

A/n

Happy New Year everyone.

I had to rewrite this chapter like three times. It was going to be very different. I definitely think this was the best one I wrote. 

Thank you for reading!

Hope you liked it.