Sincerely, Niall [z.h.] ✔

Saturday May 4, 2013

Dear Zayn, 

    It's a new month! Technically, four days into the month, but it's the first time that I've written to you in this month. It counts, right? I think so, and I hope you agree. 

     Oh, right, I have some really big news. The police showed up to my house the other day when Greg was over, making me dinner. He made me grilled cheese and tomato soup, and it was so good. I'd have to say that he's a better cook than you. Or maybe I just forget what your cooking tastes like, since you've been gone for so long and I haven't cooked anything since you went missing. 

     Sorry, back to the police. They took me into the bedroom-our bedroom-and asked me some questions. Said that someone was concerned about me and this suggestion came up. You'll never guess what they asked me. If you were here, you'd be so angry at them, probably flip a table or something extreme like that. It'd make you hate yourself more, because I know that you've promised everyone that you'd never do it, and you'd start thinking that maybe you did this once when you were sleep walking or something silly like that. But I know you'd never do it. 

     Anyway, they asked me if you had ever hit me. Or raped me. Or forced me to do anything that I didn't want to. But you? Hit me? You swore to everyone that you'd never lay a hand on me, that your mum always told you never to lay a hand on your significant other. And you said you'd never do it as long as you lived, and you haven't so far. But how do I know you haven't found someone new to love wherever you are, and who's to say you aren't hitting them? 

     That one kind of hurts to think about because you said that I'd be your one and only love, that we'd be together forever. That's always given me hope, and now is no exception. 

     When I told the police, they didn't believe me. They said that I could tell them anything, they wouldn't judge me. That many people are in an abusive relationship, but I didn't have to be. But I'm not. You never hurt me. You'd disagree and bring up the accident, but I'd always cut you off and say it wasn't your fault. We usually argued for a few minutes until we both started to cry. 

     You'd hold me close to you and whisper that you're sorry over and over. I never knew whether you were sorry about the accident or arguing and making me cry. Maybe both. Maybe neither. Maybe I'll never know. 

     After nearly breaking into tears, the police finally realized that you hadn't abused me before you went missing. They talked to Greg for a while, while I was crying up in our bedroom. I had Mr. Fluffybutt with me, and he was absorbing all my tears. I haven't been in our room since you went missing, and now I know why. It smells so much like you. Your presence is still lingering in the air, and it hurts my heart to be there. Yet, at the same time it feels so good. It reminds me that you're still out there, and that there's a chance you're coming back. 

     After the police left the house, Greg came into the room and got into the bed with me, pulling me into his arms. I cried into his chest while he soothed me, rubbing my back. It only made me cry harder because that's exactly what you'd do. You'd whisper to me how beautiful I was. How smart I was. How much I completed you. That you couldn't live without me. Eventually I'd calm down and you'd blow raspberries into my neck as I giggled. 

     We'd kiss right then, nice and sweet, before we'd cuddle. We both fall asleep at the same time, or maybe you fall asleep after me. Either way, we'd sleep together, a tangled pile of limbs. When I woke up, you'd be staring at me, and you'd kiss my nose before we both got up. 

     But I didn't want to do that with Greg. I wanted him to just lay there and not do anything but hold me. Then hopefully it wouldn't remind me of you. Although cuddling with Greg was good because it's always nice having someone to cuddle when you're alone, Greg wasn't, and will never be, you. 

     I think that Greg knew that because he wasn't in the bed when I woke up the next morning. He probably knew that that's something you'd do, and he doesn't want to upset me any more than I am. And I am really upset that you aren't here. Thousands of scenarios of what happened to you always play through my head, and I don't like most of them. Most of them scare me. 

      Maybe you ran away to be with someone else. Maybe you were threatened and had to run away. Maybe you got sick of me and just left. That last one really hurts me. And if it's true, there's only one thing I have to say to you. You're a bloody coward. 

I love you, Zayn. 

Sincerely, 

Niall