letters

Edd's Letters

You guys shouldn't have gone. I saw your letters.

You guys were obsessed with each other.

God, I don't know why you guys did it. You should have come to me. You should have gone to someone.

I started therapy. She says writing letters to you would help.

So here I am. A letter to the dead.

I don't leave my room most of the time. I don't eat. I don't drink anything but alcohol.

I don't know how to get over you guys.

I fucking found Tom.

YOU'RE SELFISH HOW DARE YOU

HOWDAREYOUYOUFUCKINGSELFISHCUNTIHATEYOUIHATEYOUIHATEYOU--

I was so oblivious to everything.

Tord, I should have noticed the way you never ate. The way your eyes sunk into your skull.

Fuck you. Fuck you.

If you had stayed alive, you would have known that I still would have broke down.

It probably wouldn't be as bad as now.

Goodbye for now.

Tom-

You. Fucking. Hurt. Me.

You HURT ME. YOU FUCKING KILLED ME. GOD DAMN IT
YOU HURT ME
YOURE SELFISH YOU ONLY CARED ABOUT YOURSELF YOU DIDNT KNOW HOW BADLY THIS WOULD AFFECT MATT AND ME

FUCK YOU, THOMAS. ASSHOLE.

——— ——————Edd's pov——————————

She says you're dissociating the more you say none of this has happened.

You're sitting on a too soft therapy chair as she scribbles on her lined legal pad.

She had written "Edd Gold" in the corner and paraphrased everything he said.

And the thing is, you don't remember anything about him.

You forgot. You miss someone you don't know.

You can't control your emotions.

You feel horrid. Sometimes you can see yourself curled up on your bed. You see yourself while you sit on your desk chair.

That... shouldn't be possible.

And then you're back in your own body.

When you go through your notifications on your computer, everyone that follows you is asking where you went.

You write a cryptic response just saying that you're alright.

You curl up on your bed. You stay there for a week. You skip your therapy appointment. You let your phone and laptop die.

You pass out after that week and sleep for another three days.

Matt wakes you up, holding a plate of food.

And you kick and scream as Matt attempts to feed you.

He holds your nose closed until you open your mouth to breathe and shoves a forkful of some sort of pasta in your mouth and refuses to let go until you start chewing.

He does this until you finish the meal and then hugs you.

He says he hates seeing you like this. And that he hates not being able to talk to you.

He says you've gotten skinnier and that's why he shoved food down your throat. And you've got to admit, it does feel nice to eat after starving for weeks.