When it's Over

Part 7

Wes

There is something about Heartbroken that makes forgetting about her impossible. I wake up early this morning and walk downstairs in a fog, headed straight for the coffee machine. Mom's been making it every morning for as long as I can remember. I'm happy to see it's still hot and I pour myself a mug full before heading back upstairs to get a shower and get my day started.

I think about the stranger behind the email as I chose my clothes, and again as I'm taking my shower. I wonder if the marks he left on her will be darker today. Will her family wonder what happened? It was easy to excuse things away at first with my sister. She was with him for a while before we ever really saw anything that made us curious. I remember the first time she came over for dinner with her eye almost swollen shut. She had some story about an accident at work, but the way her voice seemed too cheery and her eye went glossy had made my stomach turn sour.

I throw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt from my old dresser. I don't have very many things here now that I live in the barracks, but I left enough to get me through when I come home. I look at my contacts list on my phone, knowing that I have a lot of friends that will want to see me before I leave again, but not feeling particularly excited about any of them. I tell myself not to open her email again, but I do any way.

I sit down on the edge of my bed, sipping my coffee and looking at her words on my screen. I'm not going to be able to talk her out of her relationship, but I remember towards the end my sister got more and more isolated. She didn't want to have to answer to her friends about all the "accidents," so she just let them go instead. I'm safe for Heartbroken, she can control what I know about her and emails won't show me the bruises.

From: Wes >

To: Secret>

__________________________________________

Good morning

July 24, 2015 at 7:23 AM

__________________________________________

Dear Heartbroken,

Do you drink coffee? I remember my first cup when I was fifteen. My mom has always made it, but she didn't want me having any until she thought I was old enough. I don't know why she chose the young age of 15, but she did and now I drink it everyday. I take it black...because that's how men drink it (but sometimes I can't resist a little sugar).

You told me today you would be going to school. Are you in high school or college? Either way I want you to do me a favor, download Miranda Lambert's song Gun Powder and Lead to listen to as you get ready. My sister used to love it. And when your bruises are all covered up and you're on your way to school to see that asshole again, blast Rage Against the Machine's Killing in the Name of—that one is my choice.

I've never written to someone that I haven't met in person first. It almost makes me feel like whatever I write in my emails to you will stay between just the two of us. I know it's not 100% true, nothing would stop you from sharing it, but I'm going to pretend you won't. I'm also going to give you my word that everything you write to me will stay with me and only me forever.

What do you say? Should we play some truth or dare? Maybe a round of 21 questions?

Waiting (not so) patiently for your response,

Wes