P.S. Because I Loved You.

P.S. Because I Loved You [6].

August 15:

Dear Ethan,

I can't put into my own words how I felt when Tristan said your name. It was as if I was slapped in the face and punched in the gut. Hard.

Tristan said, "I've heard rumors about a guy named Ethan. Did you know him?"

My heart stopped a beat. "Yes." I uttered.

He raised an eyebrow. "I heard that he disappeared all of a sudden. Don't you think that is quite unusual, especially at a small town like this?"

I could feel my cheeks turn hot and my hands started to fidget. "I suppose...can we talk about something else? I'm uncomfortable."

He moved closer and put his hand on top of mine. He gave it a tight squeeze. "Sorry. I was just wondering..."

"I understand. Thanks, it means a lot." I whispered.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you. I found this piece of paper and I saw the resemblance of your handwriting..." He handed me a dirty, crumpled note. It had spotches of brown on it and was smudged with pencil marks.

I looked at him and he shrugged. "Open it. I didn't." He said to me.

I opened the note with dexterity.

It read: "2 am: gone forever. I loved you and you didn't. Now you are forgiv-"

My vision became fuzzy and my throat turned arid. I did not have the energy to say a word. This note. This note was exactly what my mind had said to me two years ago.

I handed it to him. "I-I....w-what is this....h-h-here." I folded it neatly and gave it to him as my fingers fluttered.

"I found it in the gutter."

"Why were you looking in the gutter?"

"I wasn't. The paper was stuck between the rods. Rosalie..." he hesitated, "does this note belong to you?"

I stared at him. Oh what beautiful eyes he had. Deep like the sea, vast like the sky.

"No." I confirmed.

He took the note and ripped it into tiny pieces.

The wind blew the secret away.

"It looks like you got the blood on your hands." He said disgustingly.

"Blood?!" I panicked and immediately looked to my hands. I could see the brown smears.

"From the note. The spotches were dried up blood."

He put his arm around me and burried his face in my hair. I began to cry.

"I d-don't know what this is Tristan." I whimpered.

I could feel his eyes shut and his fist clench. He did not say a word and just stroked my back.

How could someone try to comfort me at a time like this?

How can someone try to cheer a person when they have no idea about their past?

I sighed and wrapped my arms around him. I let the deafening silence conquer both of our minds.

But deep down, I heard what he whispered and it felt like an arrow shot my heart.

"I think you're innocent until proven guilty..."

Rosalie