in which a girl writes letters to a boy
it all started on september 2, 2013...
these letters have been written to address the issues in this girl's life that she couldn't say herself. she writes about all the times that they have gone through hell...
Valentine's Day. Who the hell was Valentine and why does he need a whole day dedicated to love?
Couples grossed me out, or more specifically, publicly displaying affection towards a significant other grossed me out. Like okay guys! We get it! You're madly in love and love bragging it to the world! But for us single folks, it's not as fun. And until the discount on candy, I pretty much hated Valentine's Day.
This Valentine's Day was different though. No, I didn't have a cute boyfriend or anything, you know me better than that.
At school everyone was happy for the most part. It was a Friday and Valentine's Day. Double whammy.
You showed up to chemistry with a busted lip and a giant purple welt on one of your cheekbones. You remember how you got that, don't you? If you don't I'll refresh your memory on that later with your exact words.
Anyways, that bruise wasn't there earlier that day, and your face looked freshly beaten. You tried not to show your face at all, but I saw it, and so did everyone else. Even the teacher gave you a weird look. But no one said anything, as if they all knew what had happened.
After class I brought it up to you as we walked to our lockers. You sheepishly talked about it. You were ashamed, but I didn't know why until you explained exactly what happened. And here are the words that have been etched into my mind as the catalyst of what is so soon to come.
"Sydney, I swear to God, stop touching my face. It doesn't hurt until you do that."
Okay, that wasn't the catalyst, but you said this immediately before your explanation whilst I poked your bruised cheekbone. I just thought that was worth reminiscing on. Here comes the serious part.
"I got caught up with this guy, Jackson Moore. He's not a fan of me for certain reasons and he was a bit angry, that's it." You said, trying to sound nonchalant about some guy beating you up behind school.
"And what would those reasons be?" I knew the reason, or at least had a stable theory.
Jackson Moore was my ex boyfriend. He was jealous, and rude, and aggressive. All around a bad relationship, but I didn't realize the severity of his aggression until he began to threaten to stab me and potentially harm Stella. It was like the blinders of love had been taken off, and instead, they were replaced with the glasses of realization that provided me 20/20 vision on an awful past relationship.
"It's not for you to know." You shook your head.
"You can't hide anything from me, Scott. Just tell me." I used your last name in a playful, yet threatening manner.
"Fine!" You finally gave up your fight. "The guy saw us hanging out around together a few times. I guess he knew you and didn't like me being with you."
"He's my ex boyfriend, Evan. It looks like he was trying to kill you!" I whisper-screamed at you.
"Well, I was running back into the building..." You began.
And here's the real kicker:
"And I turned around to look at him. He started to count down from ten, but he stopped after four, like he was waiting to say the last numbers. He had this menacing look on his face as he pulled out a gun and began wiping the blood from my lip on the barrel."
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