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...
Things had been weird recently. And by weird, I mean oddly calm. Rumors had died down for the most part, which only made me assume there would soon be a new rumors, as always. My mother was calm as well, but that was due to her new medication. Nothing specifically odd had happened since my ex boyfriend showed up to beat you to death.
No big deal or anything.
But, as expected, this day was when everything changed. And as usual, it started as a normal school day.
It was a Friday again, and the school had pretty much been vacant except for you and I. We were studying for the upcoming math test and lost track of time. I know, that's every teenagers excuse for being late, but you know I wouldn't lie to you.
The library door creaked open in an unsettling way and slammed almost as quickly as it had opened. It caught both of our attention. We began to pack up our stuff, fearing a teacher would come and kick us out. But this was worse than just a teacher.
I saw a boy's face and a gleam of metal from between the bookshelves. I grabbed my unzipped backpack and your arm, "Evan, let's go. Now."
You didn't think it was a big deal. Teachers liked you. And you didn't see the boy. You didn't notice the boy who had once pounded your face to a purple mess. But I did. And the metal wasn't just a piece of jewelry.
"Sydney!" The boy's deep voice echoed throughout the empty library. "So nice to see you."
He walked up to hug me, but I quickly walked away from him, closer to you. I eyed his tattooed arms. I once found all the little details in them appealing and attractive, but now they just hold the memories that I've tried so hard to forget.
As I stood next to you, you whispered to me, "Hey, if this guy makes you that uncomfortable, just go wait outside. I'll only be a second, I got a few more books to pack up."
We had the entire table filled with papers and books. It was a mess. But, despite my arguing against your idea, you kept telling me to wait for you outside. So I did
God that was the stupidest thing I've ever done.
You were taking so long, longer than I thought you should have. So I put my nerves aside and walked back into the musty room. On one hand, I wished I would have just listened to you and stayed out of the library, but on the other hand, we would have been dead if I hadn't come back to you.
As I opened the heavy door, Jackson's haunting voice barked orders at you. All those words have since gotten jumbled up in my head. I walked past a few bookshelves and you came into my view. You were facing me and Jackson had his back to me with a gun pointed straight at your forehead. Your eyes were screwed shut, you truly thought death was the only option, and truthfully, I thought the same.
"Three. Two..." Jackson began to speak, cocking the loaded gun. I remembered how you told me he counted down like this the last time you two ran into each other, yet he oddly left out the final few numbers. But then the pieces clicked. "One." I panicked.
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