Have This

A letter for a friend

The last straw. A single envelope, with a handwritten letter inside. Signed "Your dearest love" at the bottom. Cream coloured paper decorated with small doodles at the corners.

She found it.

As the town's postal boy, Del had become familiar with letters. They dropped off hundreds of letters every single day. The town's people knew how they knocked, knew the sound of their voice, knew the smile that brightened their dull face. They liked delivering letters. It made them feel important.

Mamma didnt like it when they kept secrets. They knew this, and kept it tucked away anyway. It was their fault, their fault, not anyone else's. They were to be grateful. They never dared to complain anymore. Why would they? They had nothing to complain about.

They were ten. They were bad. Wicked, filthy. Thats what mamma said before slamming the door behind them. They tried for hours to pry it open, just a crack, wide enough for them to see to the rest of the house. The floor ground against their exposed skin. Were they shoved? No no, couldnt have been. It smelled like dirt and paint- paint thinner? They could feel it creep up their nostrils and force itself into their skull, pressing itself against their forehead and fogging up their eyes. They didnt like it. It stung, after a while, when they realised they werent leaving. Soon they smelled the same. It felt invasive and cold. They couldn't remember what they did wrong anymore after the thirteenth day. It didnt feel real. They couldn't feel their pulse, they couldn't feel themself breathing. But the dust clung to their hair, they could smell it. They didnt want to be present. But they had to be, they had money to make and a brother to feed. They had work to do. Sometimes, when they didnt feel real, they would sing softly to themself. It was ugly, their voice was thick and torn and cracked with every other word and was barely a whisper. It was a silly childrens song, a lullaby they and their friends would sing whenever they had the chance. They couldnt rememeber why they sung it at first. It was a joke, they thought. In a voice empty of emotion, they croaked the lyrics like a dying bull frog. When they droned in their sullen voice, they liked to pretend they were back in Sam's arms. She had been more of a mother to them than mamma had in years. When they closed their eyes, they could almost feel the ghost of her fingers caressing their face.

"You poor thing," she would have said. "Im so sorry. I love you so. Ill keep you safe. Wipe those tears from your face. Ill protect you, no need to worry anymore. Ive got you"

They held a hand over their heart, feeling for the soft thump-thump. Theyd count each beat just to make sure they were still there. They couldnt leave.

Was that enough reason to no longer feel great about their mother? No, she wouldn't hurt them. It was for their own good.

The letter was supposed to be delivered a two hours ago.

They were eleven. They were forced under the water. Her nails dug into their shoulders. Panic rose in their chest. Water stung their eyes, their legs were getting tired. They kicked at her legs, they tried to rip her hands away from their skin. They could feel their bones solidify, their muscles felt like rubber. Dark spots swam in their vision. It was supposed to be a fun day out. They started to sink to the bottom of the pool, their body quickly turning as heavy as lead. Their lungs felt like they were on fire. Their head hit the hard ground. When did she let go of them? What did they do to deserve this punishment again? They vaguely remember a skeletal hand closing around their wrist. With a sudden, aggressive YANK they were pulled from the water.

Would she worry? Would she wonder what was taking them so long? Would the people of Village town wonder what happened to their dear postal boy? Would he go from door to door asking "Have you seen them? Have you seen our postal boy?"

They were twelve. Their room was littered with stray hairs and plaster boxes. They remember their hands never being steady after that. They remember ants crawling on their legs and chewing at their wounds, they remember the leaves in their hair and the panic when they realised they didn't know where they were. They remembered staring up at the towering spindly trees from the ground. They remember not seeing the sky. They remembered bringing their bloodied hand to their face and not feeling skin. They remembered the soul that lead them home. He hung in the air from an invisible string, just barely suspended in the air. His face was just as battered as theirs. Stringy white hair hung in his face covering his eyes. He was cold. They spotted him there were they laid on the floor. A stalking figure, glowing in the night. They felt the unbearable weight of his eyes pressing on their chest. Freezing coils wrapped around their lungs and they could feel in their bones that they were meant to run. That they werent meant to see him. He looked frail and boney as if his skin just barely covered his skeletal features. A grey cloak hung around his shoulders. It obscured most of his body, a cover up for something Del hoped to never see. It was tattered and barely being heald together by patches of fabric that were sewn on after it was torn again and again. He made Del extremely nervous. Still, when he waved them closer with his nearly translucent skin and his eyes fixed on their face, they slowly rose upright. They made sure nit to take their eyes off him, fearing he'd dissappear and they'd be stuck in the endless forest forever. Dels legs were shaking so hard they had to use the tree they were laying against as support. He lead them home, drifting beside them eerily not saying a word. His presence felt like spiders crawling over their skin. The fear clouded their mind like smoke. But in the fear they felt a sad familiarity with the look on his face and the way he held himself upright.
They remember the itch against their bruised arms. They remember the blood under their finger nails. They remember their brother was screaming. They remember that she didn't listen.
"Be careful, a blade of this nature will curse the flesh of a young one like you," they remember the store clerk warning. They remember heeding that warning. Then why did their mouth taste silver?

"I do so much for you... and you complain about me to your friends?" She trilled. A deep, heavy feeling of dread settled in their chest. Their throat closed. They felt shock rush down their arms and they started to tremble. She stared at them with an expression feigning calm. Thin skin that doesn't belong to her stretched over her skull tightly. Clutched in her slender hands was the letter. Her insect-like eyes penetrated their being. Her skin was so pale you could mistake her for dead. If only.
"N-not complaining, necessarily..." they gulped. Their legs started to shake. Shivers creeped up their back.
"'I wish she would treat me better. I bet your mom would love me'... this doesn't sound like complaining to you?"

They were thirteen. They were starving. They felt empty. The inside of their cupboard felt warm and familiar. Next to them their brother clung tightly to their arm. Daniel, ten years old, fearing for his life with his beloved older brother. Quality time with his sister. Footsteps sounded clear as day from the hallway. Their identical shirts hung in front of them, hiding them from the view of whoever opened the door. The sound of feet on hardwood floors caught their attention. His nails dug into their flesh. Their heart pounded like a bass drum against their ribcage. They didnt dare breathe. They squeezed their eyes shut and held him tightly. They braced themselves. The door creaked open and - it was egg guy.

They didn't say anything. Shame burnt their chest. The tightness of her grip around the delicate paper made them uncomfortable.
"You know, you're lucky, " she said.
"I could be so much worse. When I was young, my mother fed me to mountain goats whenever i misbehaved. I basically let you get away with whatever you want."
She was lying. They perked up slightly. It rang in their ears clear as a bell. A small ray of hope shined dimly in a cavity in their chest. Keep lying, feed me, they thought. Give me strength.

Del didn't know what it felt like to be forgotten. They knew how it felt to be ignored. Maybe this is what Danny felt like when dad forgot him at boy scouts, they thought. The sun had already set, and Del was getting worried.
"Where's Danny?"
"Oh. Oh yeah," he remembered. His face was flushed.
"Dad are you going to get him?"
"No you do it, I'm tired as fuck". They didnt remember much after that. Next thing they knew he was home, they were both soaking wet, and they weren't wearing shoes anymore.

They were fourteen. They stared at her thin lips. A forked tongue moistened her chapped skin. Her grey teeth glinted in the light of the rising sun like razor blades. They silently thanked Mary that she hadn't bitten them before.

"'My dearest joy sucker'... The Joysucker? I doubt it. It's way too good to be hanging around a mut like you."
"Uh- n-no ma'am, Joysucker died two and a half years ago when y-you invited it to supper... without preparing supper," Del cleared their throat. They could still remember the crack of its thorax on their molars. Their stomach churned. They would rather starve.
"Mm... it sure was delicious"
"Yes, definitely, absolutely," they hurriedly nodded their head. They held their hands behind their back and tried not to move. How would they be saved if they couldn't deliver their letter? A pit was forming in their gut. When would she snap?

"'Come fetch me when the cash hangs ripe from the trees, I'll wait for you'. Isn't that tomorrow?" The corners of her mouth perked up. Their skin prickled nervously. Their face grew hot
"I-I uhm- well- you see i- I wanted to go for a uh... 'cash grab' With my my close friend," their words meshed together. Sweat was starting to pool down their back. Their legs were screaming at them to run. Too bad they cant run for shit.
"How were you planning to go for the... ah, cash grab at the Wesley residence?" She asked innocently. They hesitated. Their fingers itched for the door. If they could just...
"W... walking?"
"And with what do you walk?"
"My... legs."
"Exactly."

Del didn't get to deliver their letter that day.

They were fourteen and mamma broke both their legs. They felt them shatter like glass, it was the worst hurt they had ever experienced, it was white hot pain, it was fire snaking up their calfs, it was boiling water on their charred skin, it was cut breaks on a speeding car it was boiling it was red it was angry it was so... expected.

Del wished they were human. Maybe she would've been less of a monster. Maybe they would've been less deserving of punishment. The damned will damn the fools who believed they could change, they remembered her saying that. They wished she was wrong.