Dear Hunter,
The first thing you did to me that caused me to experience betrayal, pain, anger and sadness at your hands happened when that stupid football went behind the bike shed, and I just had to offer to go behind and fetch it. It hadn't gone far back, so I was able to easily kick my leg over the stack of logs blocking the entrance and slide into where it lay.
I saw the football, alright, but not before I saw two other people there not too far away. As I looked on in horror, it didn't take me long to distinguish that it was you. You and Ashlynn, the girl with the red lipstick and expensive leather jackets and black-streaked hair; the girl who was everything you should have wanted, and everything I didn't have.
There was so much passion and fire within that kiss. You had never shown such a thing to me.
I did the only thing I could think of. Because you meant so much to me, you could have put me through anything and I still would have reattached myself to you. I returned to the group of people telling them the ball was stuck, and I couldn't get to it. I never brought up the kissing scenario again; not to you, not to my mother, not to any of the temporary friends I made over those six months. Not to anyone but myself — yet I relived it on my own enough times to drive me insane.
All my love, always,
Maia.
YOU ARE READING
Twenty-Eight Stamps [#Wattys2017] || ✓
Short Storyin which she writes a letter every day in february to the one who broke her heart, and watches as the pile of unsent envelopes gets larger © taintedseas 2017 stunning cover by @sereneur highest ranking: #292 in short story 23.4.17