Dear No One (Wattys2017) (UNDER CONSTRUCTION)

Dear No One, I've Got Thirty Bucks That Says This Won't End Well

I did the unthinkable the next morning; I skipped school.

Three and a half years with a perfect attendance record, it would all be washed down down the drain.

Somehow, I didn't really care.

Leaving the house was easy. I snuck out for my morning run with my laptop case before anyone was up and never came back home. Instead, I headed to the post office.

Digging through the fan-mail I had gotten over the last couple days was terrible. Most were jokes, some had nothing written on them, and some were things I would never be able to erase from my mind. Still, I found the responses from the two I'd been talking with.

I shoved them deep into my laptop case and tossed the rest, heading to the cafe across the street before I could convince myself to turn around and head back to school. To come up with some ridiculous excuse to why I was late and make an even bigger fool of myself, not something I really wanted to do.

"Hi, welcome to Midnight Mocha, is there anything I can get for you?" An unenthusiastic brunette behind the counter looked up from her magazine, a bored look on her face. I waved her off, taking a seat at one of the tables in back and pulling the unopened envelopes from my bag.

I laid my laptop case on my lap as I peeled open the first envelope, the one from the cheerleader. Ironically enough, named Monica.

Dear No One,

Thank you for your kind words of encouragement, but it isn't as simple as sitting in front of a psychiatrist and telling them about my issues. I. . .I do bad things, you see. I do bad things for money, things that involve my body. I've done things with people that I shouldn't have, people that are older than I am. Do you understand what I'm saying?

It would be much easier if I could take the easy way out and come forward about it all, but I need the money more than I need my body. I would like for you to try and help me, if possible. I just need someone to pour my guts out to that doesn't know me, that probably never will. I need you to assure me that it will get better, even if I know it's not the truth.

Thank you for your time, I hope to be able to continue this. . . whatever it may be.

Until Next Time,

M

I let out a shaky breath as I laid the handwritten letter down in front of me, not allowing myself enough time to process it as I slid the other letter open. The one with no name.

I stared blankly at the three words sprawled in messy, but eligible, handwriting. No Dear No One at the top, no name at the bottom, and hardly anything in between.

I hate myself.

*

I didn't go home. I couldn't. All I wanted to do was set my laptop somewhere and go for a long run, to clear my head, to let everything I had read and been through finally sink in.

How was I supposed to respond to a possible prostitute and someone that seemed suicidal? How was I supposed to walk into school tomorrow with my head held high like nothing happened? How-

"I thought I'd find you here." I looked up from the beige laptop case on my lap and at Cain standing a few feet away, leaning against a flag pole, hands shoved deep in worn jeans.

"You were looking for me?" I responded, confused, "Why?"

"Your parents are worried sick, Kasey. They're an hour away from calling the cops." I shrugged, resting my head against the hard surface on my knees.

"Missed you at school today." He crouched down beside me, his wild mane of black hair blowing into his eyes, "I thought you were sick or something."

"Well, I'm not. You can go home now that you've checked up on Little Kasey Blackwell." I muttered, avoiding his eyes.

"Kasey-"

"I said I was fine, Cain. Just go." I heard my voice waver, I just hoped he hadn't caught it.

The hope he hadn't noticed faded when he fell on to the cold concrete in front of me, color draining from his cheeks.

"Say it." He whispered.

"I don't know what you're talking about." I bowed my head, forcing my tears back.

"Say you want me to stay."

"Why would I lie? I don't want you to stay, Cain. Go home." His shoulders hunched slightly as he tucked his knees beneath his folded arms and stared at me expectantly.

"Kasey, I'm not leaving." His words were barely above a whisper, almost not audible over the loud wind and trees rustling around us.

"Of course you're not. You're a pain in the butt, you-"

"Butt?" He smirked.

"Whatever, Cain. I told you I didn't want you here, I don't want you in my life. I want you to leave." He didn't budge, it was as if he hadn't heard a word I said, or if he had, was purposely ignoring them.

"Kasey." He said my name softly, his hand brushing against the tombstone behind him, covering the death date.

"I don't think you understand, Cain. I told you to leave, do you want me to spell it out for you?" He shut his eyes, shielding the beautiful green with his long lashes.

"It wasn't your fault." Is all he answered with.

"Cain, please-"

"It was his choice, Kasey. Not yours. Please stop." I buried my face in my hands, praying that he'd think I was crying and would get up and leave me in peace.

"His choice? It was his choice to try to kill the both of us, Cain?" I could hear my voice rising, "I distracted him, he almost ran the car off the road. He saved me and all I did was sit there and watch the life drain out of him. Do you understand-"

"Of course I understand!" He shot up in a quick, swift movement, "Do you not remember that I was in the car when they died, Kasey?" He shut his eyes and released a frustrated breath before relaxing entirely.

"Kasey, he was unstable." He knelt in front of me, inches away now.

We were as close as we were in my backyard last night, his breath against my cheek, his hand brushing against mine, our eyes locked.

"He didn't want to live anymore." Cain touched my cheek, "And he tried to take you down with him." I shook my head and tore myself away from him, slinging my laptop case back over my shoulder.

"Kasey! Come on." I felt Cain's arms wrap tightly around my waist, his chin on my shoulder as I finally collapsed.

"It's okay." He spun me around so I was against his chest, my face in his hands. "I promise it'll only last a couple hours, then it's gone. It'll be okay." I buried myself against his chest, giving up on caring about anyone seeing us.

"Kasey." Cain's choked whisper broke me out of my sobs, his hand shifting slightly on my back. "It's all going to work itself out, I'll make sure of it." I nodded, resting my head against his shoulder again. My eyes fell back on the cold tombstone, at the name carved into it.

Thomas Blackwell

October 14, 1997- March 5, 2013

Another lump scratched its way to my throat again when I saw the only thing carved into the stone below.

The best brother in the world.

***AN***

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~ChasingMadness24