Mason POV
I was staring down at her, completely frozen.
I wanted to wrap my arms around her so badly, but I just couldn’t. My body was stuck, and my mind felt fuzzy.
For all this time, I believed that she had abandoned me. I couldn’t just let that go. I couldn’t just believe her without any evidence.
She said that she still has the letters that she supposedly wrote me. I needed to see them.
“I want to see the letters.” I mumbled quietly.
She stopped crying and looked up at me. She let me go and took a step back.
“Okay.” she said quietly as she wiped the tears from her cheeks. “They are in my room.”
I nodded and turned around to unlock the door. I opened the door and let her walk out. I followed her back to her room.
Could it be true? Does she really have the letters? Could she have written them when she came here so she could tell me this story and pretend that it was true?
I clenched my fists at that possibility. I would burn down the building if she lied.
She unlocked the door and let me inside. I walked into her room and sat down at her desk. I watched as she closed the door and walked over to her closet. She opened the closet and crouched down to grab a box. She stood up, placed it on her bed, and opened it.
From where I was sitting, I saw pictures of the two of us. I saw all the cards I made her ever since we were kids. I saw the drawing I made for her when she was sick and the plastic tiara that I got for her when she wanted to be a princess.
My heart clenched painfully when all the memories of her flooded my brain.
I missed her so fucking much.
She dug through the box until she pulled out a stack of envelopes. She took a deep breath and walked over to me. She gave me the envelopes and stepped back. She never looked at me. She kept staring down at her feet.
I placed the envelopes on the table and picked the first one up. As soon as I saw it, I knew that she hadn’t written those letters recently. I recognized her childish handwriting as soon as my eyes landed on the envelope. Next to my neatly written address, there was a stamp on the envelope indicating that the letter was sent and then another one that said that the recipient refused the letter. The envelope wasn’t opened.
I turned it around and opened it. My hands were shaking, and I could feel a lump in my throat starting to form.
I pulled the paper out and unfolded it. The letter wasn’t long, just a few short sentences.
Massy,
Please tell me what I did wrong. Why won’t you pick up my calls? I miss you. I am sorry for whatever I did. Please call me back. I will do anything to make it up to you.
Emmy.
My heart clenched painfully, and the lump in my throat made it hard for me to breathe.
I placed the letter on the table and picked up the second envelope. I didn’t bother to look at it. It was the same as the first one.
I ripped it open and pulled the letter out.
Massy,
Why did you send the letter back? Please, Massy, please, just read this one and call me back. I really don’t know what I did. I am sorry for whatever it is. Please, Massy. I miss you. I love you.
Emmy.
My hands were shaking like crazy when I picked up the third envelope. I ripped it open and struggled with pulling the letter out. I couldn’t stop shaking.
Massy,
Whatever I did to make you this mad at me, I am so, so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. You are my twin and my best friend. I miss you terribly. Please forgive me.
Emmy.
By the time I was picking up the fourth envelope, my vision was blurry.
Massy,
I realize that you don’t want to talk to me, but I won’t stop sending the letters because I can’t lose you. Maybe you will open one of them one day and read how sorry I am. I miss you. I love you.
Emmy.
The fifth, the sixth, and the seventh letters were the same.
Massy,
I am sorry. I miss you. I love you.
Emmy.
Tears were now streaming down my cheeks freely, and I didn’t do shit to stop them.
I grabbed the last letter. I assumed that all the rest were the same. I needed to see when and why she stopped sending them.
The last letter was sent three years ago.
I opened the envelope and pulled the letter out. This one was a little bit longer than the others. This one was different as well. It had a date in the upper right corner. December 12th, 2018, our birthday.
Happy birthday, Massy.
I decided that this would be the last letter I would write to you. Not because I’m giving up on you, but because I need to save myself. Every time I get the letter back, my heart breaks all over again. I am sure we will meet one day. I am sure we will be able to talk, and I will be able to tell you how sorry I am for whatever happened. I never meant to hurt you, Massy. I never wanted to leave you. I regret that every day. I should have fought harder to stay with you. I should have begged dad to let me stay. I should have done something. If this will be the letter you finally decide to open, I want you to know how much I miss you and how much I love you. I can’t wait for us to meet again. I can’t wait to see you and hug you. I can’t wait for us to talk and put all of this behind us. I still have hope that we can do that.
I am sorry. I miss you. I love you.
Happy birthday.
Emmy.
By the time I finished reading, I was full-on sobbing. Tears were streaming down my cheeks, and my vision was so blurry that I couldn’t see the letters on the page anymore. My heart was breaking in my chest, and I wanted to scream. I wanted to punch something.
No, not something. Someone.
I wanted to punch the shit out of my dad. He did this. He separated us. He took her away from me. He made me believe that she didn’t want me. He made me hate her.
I looked up at her. She was looking at me with so much pain in her eyes that I wanted to burn the world down. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, and she was sobbing quietly.
“I am so fucking sorry, Emma.” I mumbled through my sobs. “I am so fucking sorry.”
I let the letter fall to the floor, and I buried my head in my hands. A few moments later, I felt her fingers going through my hair.
I sat up, grabbed her arm, and pulled her onto my lap. I buried my nose into her neck and let out all the pain I felt for the past nine years.
I wrapped my arms around her so fucking tightly that a part of me wondered if she could breathe. But I couldn’t loosen my grip. I couldn’t let her go.
She wrapped her arms around my neck and leaned her head on mine. She was shaking and crying as much as I was.
“I love you, Emma.” I mumbled. “I love you so fucking much.”
I wanted to say those words for nine fucking years.