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Letters- Part 9 of 10

Dearest Reader,

I still remember how it felt as I watched you fall asleep that night.

I could feel the exact moment where your eyes were no longer flicking rapidly behind your eyelids and your mind had finally decided enough was enough, it was time to sleep.

I could feel your body give in, physically see your muscles relax after all the pressure that the day had brought to you.

I watched you sleep like that for exactly three hours and thirty-four minutes, to the dot.


I cannot say, I was intrigued by you, while your mind is at rest and your body no longer feels the need to fight to remain awake.

I was intrigued by the openness of your face while you have no power or will to keep your guard up.

While you slept you finally let me see what I had always longed to see but had never found the courage to look for.

You bared your soul to me, for my eyes to soak up.

Whilst I sat on the end of your bed, having just climbed in through your unlocked window, I toyed with the knife in my hand.

Twirling it between my outstretched fingers, my hands so unbelievably steady considering the whirlwind of turmoil that was currently hurtling through my mind.

So, I waited, I watched and I learned.

For the first hour I saw only darkness, your eyelids closed so tightly I could see nothing but the plain emotionless look on your face.

It hurt me, sweet girl, to see you look so plain and simple when you are so far from it in the daylight.

I did not want my last hours with you to be ones where you did not look half the goddess that you are.

But, then the second hour began and it was like something awoke inside of you. Your walls suddenly crumbled, brick by brick and suddenly, as if you were allowing me to walk right on through, your heart drew a path for me to follow.

I saw things that I had never dreamed possible before.

I saw every heartbreak and every love, every dream that never came true and every book you have ever read. I saw that night at the movies where he touched you for the first time, I saw that morning where he left, promising to be back in no time.

I saw the day your mother left for work and never returned and the care of your father as he bandaged all your hurts.

I saw your eyes the day your best friend told you she didn’t want to live anymore and I saw your hands as you helped her home, the gun still in her bag.

I saw her mother’s weak arms wrapped around your shoulders as she cried, pulling against your vest.

I saw your best friend’s eighteenth birthday, where you had your first taste of vodka and something made you want to climb the roof and sing.

I saw your eyes when she jumped, three stories high onto the concrete slab below.

I saw the blame in theirs when they saw you up there alone.

I saw everything, my darling girl, I saw so much pain inside you that it almost broke me into millions of pieces, pieces that the little girl in you has always learned to pick up, because imperfection is not all it seems.

But despite all this heartache, I saw something else inside of you.

I saw a little girl in the back of class, her mind on things other than her textbook.

I saw a girl ten years older, her hair in tight little braids, I see so much of her in you, a child so desperate to play.

I saw your heart swell the first time you read poetry, like somehow the words you read inside your head connected to the world you walked, so uninterested.

I saw your smile when you climbed to the top of the mountain in your backyard that you could never quite conquer before.

I saw every one of your triumphs plastered in gold across the hall.

I saw so much in you that I know is in me.

Because, after all we are destined to be together, the two of us, just not here.

I think you know that now, because as I climbed through your mind, and experienced everything you think you mean, I left little bits of myself for you to find, while you sleep, little hints that will fly like doves in your dreams.

I hope that in the moments before your death you came to realise that it was for the best, that in death you could see things more clearly, love more freely and be accepting of yourself in the way that I see you.

I hope in death you finally stopped looking for imperfections and started seeing only perfection reflected in my eyes as you gazed at me.

I hope in death, more than anything you see, I hope in death that you see nothing but me.

I don’t want to haunt you, or scare you, or ruin you for eternity, but I hope that you see me at least as something that brought you peace.

That’s all I ever wanted.

To bring you peace, to just make you see that you are so incredibly indescribably wonderful.

And as I moved myself to lean over your sleeping form, the knife lifted in my fist, I took one last longing look at you, more to remind myself of your presence and your peace.

In that last look I saw more than I had expected, something my mind still doesn’t quite know how to comprehend.

I saw a single, sapphire, tear seep from one of your eyelids and trace a pattern down your pale cheek.

It was so random, so unexpected, so strange considering the circumstances.

It was like you knew, like you knew what was coming but that you were okay with it, like you had finally accepted it, and you were ready to move forward.

That’s when I knew it was okay to send the shimmering blade plunging into your chest, your body shuddering slightly, your eyes still closed and at rest.

There is one last thing I wanted to tell you, before your soul left me forever.

In this form, in this body of yours, with all the troubles you had faced.

You still look so pretty when you cry.

Sincerely, Nathaniel

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