letters to you | completed.

Letter 1

Fate's sarcasm? Maybe.

The people outside kept mumbling about how dangerous the gas cylinder leak in our kitchen was and everything turned charcoal black from the intensive heat but all I was stuck on what cylinder meant.

I kept pulling the arms of the useless audiences about what happened inside and why wasn't my mom and dad out of the house if it was so dangerous but all resulted in vain. Some of them merely patted my head and sighed but none of them spoke about it. Soon after I heard the siren and saw an ambulance coming up to our place. It was a cue for everyone to catch that I shouldn't be there to watch that so they cooed sweet words and fake promises in my ear and took me to a nearby park.

What felt like a hundred hours later, I saw a lanky figure walking towards us who resembled to my dad as he walked closer. He looked pale and extremely tired of everything and his eyes puffed up due to crying too much. I ran towards him into his warm hug from the cold clutch of the old woman who brought me there in the first place and he gripped my body tightly while I felt his cold wet cheeks touch mine. Little could I figure of what had happened though I prayed it better not be something bad.

Bad. Huh.

I pulled his head back out of sheer curiosity and asked him what cylinder meant to which he bursted out crying yet more. He controlled himself nonetheless or at least tried to and explained to me something which gave me the idea that mum was not going to come back. I closed my eyes for a moment, this ought to be a bad dream.

I consoled myself that I had seen plenty of bad dreams before. Like the one where my school English teacher had the head of a lock ness monster or when I dreamt that someone had taken away Carl, my teddy bear. This was also like one of them. It had to be. Only, this time people used words like cylinder and misfortune.

I couldn't eat or sleep properly for the next two weeks. I spoke to no one which everyone took to be because of what happened with us, only it wasn't what it seemed to be. One night when I tried calling out to dad for water, I realised I cannot. I opened my mouth and tried calling dad, only it felt like I whispered. Next day dad took me to the doctor and after several tests and medicines I was what they called "mute due to extreme shock." My father didn't gave up initially, tried consoling, cooing and even scolding me to speak. Not that I blamed him. Losing someone so close to you followed by what happened to me, he couldn't take it well. Only, it didn't help.

My struggle had just begun.

*        *         * 

Ten Years Later

I had to admit Dexter was an attractive man, but he wasn't my kind of guy. Dexter was tall. Taller than the average man, but slightly shorter than her Russian target who stood a tall six foot two. He paced across the room in even strides, his feet gently pounding on the floor. Dexter Evans was a strong man whose muscular definition had slightly worn off due to his lack of training, but his white dress shirt still clung tightly to his skin, showing everyone that he was still in the game. His long fingers ran through his short and wavy brown hair which shifted back into place once his hand had gone past. The light coming from the windows made it shine to a shade of melting milk chocolate and his slightly tanned skin glowed, making his stubble covered chin seem darker. The man's high cheekbones, perfectly accentuated his face, and his full pink lips were pressed firmly together in a flustered expression. His eyes, which were normally a simple sepia colour, were now a golden honey hue and seemed to be screaming out his emotions. Jamie always thought that his beautiful eyes would give him away one day. Make him blow whatever cover he had. I too believed that.

He pulled out one of the chairs for him and keeping his coffee on the table, he seated himself giving me a friendly look, which I returned courteously. Dexter wasn't much of a people person, he was either among his books or at the school playground not playing football like normal guys but sitting on the grey bench watching everything around him with his big doe brown eyes. He looked like he was always a little lost, his mind a chaos of thoughts storming up his brain. Guys in our class thought he was a convict or something but we really knew that deep down he was a nice guy. He just didn't liked to show his nice side to everyone.