with your mom and her new boyfriend.
Reading your last letter for the fourth time had me thinking, this is the second time you mentioned your dad’s death. I wish you’d told me what happened and how you felt sooner, instead of over letters.
No wonder you were such a mess and wanted to run away for a little while. I wish you had confided in me. We were supposed to be each other’s confidants. If you’re here for me, I want to be there for you. Please, let me in. I think we’ve been keeping a lot of secrets from each other.
This might be a big request. I’m not sure when I’ll leave, but I hope that when I’m out in the real world, we’ll be close to each other again. But can we please try to be more open about our feelings and what’s really going on with us?
Missing you,
Abby
Six
Wes
I feel this blackness come over me. Like a blanket. Not a sheet of warmth, but one of blood curdling coldness numbing me down to my bones. I’m stuck in the conference room again. My father watches; the board members keep demanding that I continue with the plan. I ignore them and leave the room, walking toward the exit and running down the stairs. But I always arrive back at the same spot. My heart races because I don’t have enough time to get to Abby. After a million attempts of escaping this place, I jump out of the window. I land right back in the same fucking conference room.
I take a few deep breaths, trying to think of a way to reach Abby. She’s in danger, and I’m the only one who can save her.
“Stop,” My father orders. “I rescued you, so you could be like me. The rest is inconsequential. The company I left you should be your only concern.”
Paralyzed, cold, and frightened I stare at the man who I loved and called Dad for twenty-five years. With one hand he’s choking Abby, whose eyes are pleading with me to help her. Suddenly he’s not himself anymore. Instead, a masked man is holding a knife against her throat.
“Don’t hurt her,” I plea.
He smirks, running the knife around her smooth, delicate skin ready to pierce it.
“Abby!” I yell her name, waking myself up. Every sense urges me to claw my way to standing.
Drenched in sweat, I leave the bed, gasping for air. Immediately, I open my nightstand drawer which contains the letters she’s written me from the treatment center.
“She’s alive,” I repeat aloud. “Safe and recovering.”
I wipe the sweat from my face and turn on the light. It’s just a nightmare but as always, it leaves me with not only the worst memories from that day, but also the ache from wanting her by my side. I scroll through my phone looking at pictures of her. My lungs deflate because she feels unreachable. A pang hits me right in the chest when I come across a picture of us kissing. One of our first times.
That night we lost so much, and I have no fucking idea if we’ll recover what we had. Tears stream down my cheeks when I remember how she looked in the hospital. Tiny, fragile, and in so much pain. She said she had to go and after failing her, I felt like I couldn’t say no. My fucking heart hurts too damn much. I throw my phone across the room. I want to forget everything we lived together because the pain is unbearable. The memories we treasure the most during our relationships become our worst enemies when we lose the one we love.
I head to the kitchen and grab a bottle of scotch. This is the only way I can soothe the pain that runs through my veins.
December 5th
Wes,
Thank you so much for the pumpkin pie cheesecake. It was to die for. There wasn’t a letter attached to it. I hope everything is well. I assume that you’re super busy. It’s understandable, but please remember that hearing from you is like music to my ears. Today during therapy, I was remembering the night when Shaun abducted me.
I never told you, but when the team that came to rescue me arrived in the room, he used me as a shield. Shaun had a knife pressed against my throat. At least, I thought that’s what it was. The sharp, cold blade punctured my throat. Then, I heard the window shatter and suddenly his body went limp and we