Daddy's Little Soldier

Letter 17

From: Oliver Stone
Age: 18
To: Gus Johnson
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Mom and I are slowly getting there, getting over Dad and Taylor, it's very hard though.
I find it harder to move on Taylor, and I wonder if it's because she died before she forgave me or it's just that I'm big enough to understand what death is or is it because I'm the one who discovered it.
However, mom's not just upset or sad about Taylor, she's angry and furious at her. Maybe it's harder for me because I'm not so angry at Taylor.

Mom's heath went to the downfall again and the possibility of losing her too frightens me to no end.
I lost dad, I lost Taylor and I'm not ready to lose mom too. Not yet and never will be.
That's the thing about death, you can never control it, and you should not. You don't know why, how or when you or anyone will die and you shouldn't. You can't die later but also you can't die sooner than you should.
That's what Taylor did, she challenged her destiny and ended her life sooner than it was supposed to be.
She didn't find anything interesting in her life so she  just got rid of it. She touched what she shouldn't touch, she took away something that wasn't hers from the start.

As much as we believe that we own ourselves and we can do whatever we want with our bodies. It's not ours.
Our lives aren't ours to mess with, much to everyone's dismay.

You can't just cut yourself saying it's your body, you can't kill your lungs with smoking saying they're yours, with the same concept, you can't take away your life assuming you don't have a place in the world anymore.
There's Destiny, and she has a lot in store of us, some sweet memories accompanied with sour moments. Perfect weather, spring fields, shinning sun, flowers, butterflies and perfect storms, rainy days, rocky roads and blades tearing your skin, tornadoes swirling around, monsters in your mind and most importantly, voices that aren't supposed to be here from the start.

Mom started talking to herself, to the wall, having an imaginary friend like the one I used to have when I was five.
Mine was called Fluffy Boo, hers is called Schizophrenia.
She started hearing voices, and slowly she started listening to them, then she started doing what they wanted.
I asked her whom is she talking to, sometimes it's Taylor, sometimes it's some other friends of her that I don't like.
Sometimes when I'm staying up late on my desk I hear pans clattering in the kitchen, moments like this make me wish we had a cat, so I can blame it on it, not mom talking to herself.

One time, I woke up and found her bed sheets stained with blood, I asked her what's that, she told me it's her period, but period isn't accompanied with dead bodies in the closets and cupboards and a shovel in the backyard, or is it?
I don't know what to think anymore.
I'm confused, scared, petrified and about to pee my pants and sheets.
I'm cold, hungry, sleepless and worried as hell.
But she's my mother, how can I be so afraid of her?

Kind regards,
Daddy's Little Frightened Soldier.