Lost in July

LI

The point is— I need you to keep fighting. I know with your help, X will get the karma he deserves. Please don't let my death consume you. This case is important. Your safety is important. I'll be there watching, don't worry.

As for the letter addressed to X... I wrote it more out of anger. The letter is basically a plea to his humanity and a knife to whatever soul he has left. I don't know if that makes sense, but I tried to convey the impact his actions have on those around him. I'm sure it'll go over his head, which is why I'll leave it up to you whether to deliver it or not. I trust you'll know what to do. You always did.

Keep fighting for me. Keep exploring. If I can, you need to know I will be next to you every step of the way. Your days with accomplishments, milestones, the bad days, even your most mundane days, I'm with you. I'll always be with you.

I'm so proud of you, Margo July. Never forget that.

I love you,
-C

My eyes hardly make out his closing because of the tears in my eyes. I sigh, pushing the papers aside and resting my head in the arms as I rest my weight on the table. I let myself cry, because at this point I just don't know what else to do.

I want to fulfill his wishes and distribute the last letter, but part of me doesn't want to allow X to witness the beauty that is Collin Fitzpatrick. The words he has for him will be far too kind.

I lift my head when I know I've made a decision. My thoughts are loud, scrambled, screaming at me to figure this all out. Telling me to stop crying, get up, and do what he asked me to do.

So I get up.

~
I'm standing on X's doorstep, where he's been allowed to stay since he posted bail.

His apartment isn't far from my house, tucked into the middle of Harlem. It's a rustic looking, red bricked building that's always felt eerie to me.

Before I can turn away, I press the button to alert his intercom that I'm here. He buzzes me in and I pull open the front door, climbing the steep steps to his apartment door.

I knock. He opens it, shaggy hair, white muscle tee flaunting his scars and new tattoos. His apartment reeks of weed and his eyes are a faint red.

It takes him a moment to realize it's me at his doorstep. "Margo? What are you doing here?" He steps aside to let me in as his confusion turns into happiness, but I stay rooted in place.

"No. I came to give you this, then I'm leaving." I hold out the final letter. Once X takes this from me, the distractions end. I'm forced to deal with the misery instead of running away.

"What's that?" he asks, thin blond brows knitting together in confusion.

"A letter. From Collin."

He scoffs. "Your fucking charity case? No thanks." He crosses his arms.

"I didn't ask you if you wanted it. Read it, don't read it, I don't care. It's yours and he wanted you to have it," I respond, anger crawling out of me with every syllable.

X rolls his eyes. "If he wanted me to have it so bad why didn't he bring it here himself? The kid got me fuckin' arrested. He knew i'd kick his ass." He laughs.