It's been a full week. I just know daniel sent me back a letter. I'm trying to forget him, but it's not working. The more I think of him, the more I want to go out there, open that mailbox and read what he sent to me. Is it worth reading?
"Jasmine?" My wonderful husband spoke. He entered the room with envelopes in his hand. God, please don't tell me he got the mail that I've been trying to advoid. "You have mail, from the county jail. Who's sending you letters from there?"
I sighed. "It doesn't say it on the letter?"
"No. It's anonymous. "
That's odd.
"May I see it, please?" I stood up from the bed. He handed me the letter and I walked passed him.
"I'm going to get noah from my mother's house, okay?"
I smiled at him. "Okay."
He kissed my lips soflty and left. I went down into my 'secretive' basement. I sat down in my seat and took a deep breath.
It isn't that I don't want to read it.
I'm just too afraid to.
Why am I so affraid?
I took another long, very long, deep breath before ripping the envelope open. I seen the folded, blank piece of paper neatly inside of it. I pulled it out slowly. I seen a dry tear drop on the side of it.
I gulped.
I opened the letter and read all the words clearly.
"Jasmine, I still care for you with a devotion bordering on obsession. I'm sorry you had to find out this way..
when I say you're mine, I fucking mean it. Understand? Don't leave away too far as you begin to get afraid. You don't need to be afraid, baby.
love, Daniel. ''
What is he talking about?
I begin to panick in the inside. I ripped the letter in many pieces and threw them away in a small garbage basket on the right of me. I picked it up and made my way into the kitchen, near the cookie jar where I know the cigarette lighter was hidden. I grabbed a nice, clean sheet of paper and folded it up into fours as I headed outside with the garbage can in my other arm. I sat it down slowly on the pavement.
"Daniel, what have you become?" I say as if he could hear me.
Tears begin running down my eyes. He was obsessed with me. He admit it. I'm in so much shock. I never knew. I switch the lighter a few times before the fire shot right out. I lit the end of the piece of paper and quickly threw it in the garbage can. I watched as the fire rose inside of the basket with teary eyes. I feel like I'm being cursed and I don't like it. Should I write him back? I want to know why. I don't want him like this.
"He wasn't always like this!" I cried, gripping the lighter tight in my hand.
Why?
