Letter 18

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From: Oliver Stone.
Age: 18
To: Gus Johnson.
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The woman who hated her daughter for leaving her and killing herself, the woman who was disappointed that her daughter sinned and touched what wasn't hers, took away what wasn't for her to take.
The woman that kept lecturing me every five minutes not to be like Taylor and kill myself because I'm a failure, a waste of space, a weirdo, an old fashioned awkward guy, sad, disappointed or depressed. The one who asked about my day everyday and made me sandwiches, the one who cooked lunch and dinner for me everyday, the one who washes and cleans my clothes, who changes my sheets, the one who reminds me to work hard and get the highest grades I can, so I can get a scholarship to the university I want.

This woman is my mother, she's also the one who takes away what isn't hers as well.
I went back from school, Leo wanted to hang out, I told him that I can't, Cathy started to think that I don't care about her anymore, because I don't bring her over.
I just don't want her to step on one of the dead bodies by accident, I don't want her to scream and faint, I don't know what mom can do to her.

A week ago, she tried to kill me, I know the voices told her so, I know my mom wouldn't do that to me, she's unaware that she's in her night gown, with a cloth, a pan and a bloody knife, the one she killed with our neighbour last night.
I tiptoed to the toilet, I didn't expect her to sneak behind me and try to stab me.
She's my mother, I love her and she loves me, I know she doesn't mean any harm of what she did.
I don't want the police to find out and take mom away from me, I try to force her to take her pills, to chill, to get a treatment, but in the end, I find myself digging in the backyard in the middle of the night to hide mom's crimes.

She didn't mean it.

I got back home and I felt someone's head under me.
It could be either the postman or the old Mr.Wilson, I though.
Ms.Maddy gave me an A for my mini-story and I finally found my thing, my genre and it happened to be Non-Fiction.
You were right all along, uncle Gus.
Please don't tell anyone about mom, don't tell the police. She'll be back, she'll get better, I'm sure!

With love,
Daddy's Little Soldier.

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