The Letters He Never Sent || Minsung

39

TW: this chapter will contain a topic of pills that may be sensitive or triggering to some, so please don't read if it might affect you.
Stay safe and remember there is always someone there to help.

-

Current
———

I awake in a cold sweat.

I awake with fear.

I awake with a memory I don't want to ever remember again.

I quickly pull myself out of bed, stumbling over to my bathroom. I breathe heavily as I walk over to the mirror, opening the cabinet. I take out a bottle of pills, popping one into my mouth.

I swallow the pill and stumble to sit down in the bathtub, shaking my head. "It'll go away, it's just a dream" I whisper to myself.

The flashes flood in my mind.

The voices, the cries, my speech.

That was a day i swore I will never remember again— ever. That was the day that sent me to years of therapy, that cost me hundreds on pills. I pivoted after that funeral, and I will not let the memories sink me again.

However, this time they don't scare me so much. This time, the pills don't work. As I sit in my bathtub, waiting for the pills to kick in — I realize they aren't going too. I realize, that maybe this isn't a bad thing.

I stand up, climbing out of the bathtub. I make my way to the kitchen, my cat following behind me. It's way to early, but that's okay.

I take a cup of grind and put it into the coffee machine, placing my mug underneath the dispenser. I listen to the loud sound of the coffee being made, and watch as the dark liquid pours into the mug.

I turn my head to the table at the sound of a meow, and chuckle when I see my cat curiously eyeing me. "Relax, it's not alcohol." I say to her.

I pick up the mug and motion it to her, to which she lets out a little noise at. I chuckle as I take a sip of the coffee, but scrunch my nose at the heat. I walk over to the table and place the mug down, shaking my hand off afterwards.

She meows again, so I smile at her and begin to pet her head —and behind her ears, since she loves that. I notice a pile underneath her though, so I tilt my head.

"Hey, what are you sitting on?" I nudge her a bit, so she gets up with sass. It's the pile of mail from yesterday, so I sigh. I pick up the envelopes and flick through them—but stop at a certain red velvet color.

"Oh yes, thank you girl." I pet her head again.

I swoop her up—the letter in my other hand— and walk over to my sofa. I get us both situated, before I open the seal on the envelope.

Ever since I got the last letter, I have been waiting for this one. From what i remember, I don't like what happens next. But, I'm learning a lot from these letters so I do need to continue reading. Especially after the dream I had last night. Though, would you even consider it a dream if it's more of a memory?

I take out the piece of paper, and throw the envelope scraps down. I unfold it, and begin to read —Out loud again however, so my cat can here as well.

Dear Minho
From: The sender.

I furrow my brows at the name, and look at my cat. "The sender?" I tilt my head.

She meows and claws my hand, so I can continue reading. "Okay jeez.."
I clear my throat.

Hello.

You're probably so confused right now, and want answers. I will give you all the answers, but I just need you to listen to what I have to say first.

These letters, were found in a little heart shaped lock box in the old room. After reading them myself, I decided that somebody else needed to read these letters as well— and what better person that be than the person they were written too.

It took me a really long while to find out who you were, and where you were. So after doing some really deep digging, I found you on a Facebook page.

From that, I was able to know you're still living in this town. I digged into certain records and found your addresses— even though you've only ever had one. I took the chance and sent it, and when it went through I knew I had found my boy.

I started to send them whenever I could, and by the dates. Reading and sorting these letters out was a difficult thing for me myself, considering they are so raw.

There is one last letter, however, that I have chose not to send to you. This letter needs to be given to you personally, and that's impossible to do— so i don't think you will ever get to read the last one. Which might not be such a bad thing.

I have chosen not to reveal who I am for many reasons, and I would like to keep it that way. I know that might not be the best thing in the world for you, but i think it is for me. I know that's selfish— but i cannot help it.

I just wanted you to know more about him, before you go on and judge him. I know it's been years, I know I'm late, I know. But I don't want you to think he did it because he didn't love you, or he did it to escape you. Because we both— deep down— know that isn't the case at all.

Thank you, and I'm sorry.

Sincerely,
               The Sender.

I swallow the lump in my throat as I finish reading.

It hits me that this is the last time I will ever hear from this person again, and I still have absolutely no clue who this sender might be. But something, deep down like they said, is kind of glad that's the way it is. Because I don't know if I even want to know.

I set down the piece of paper, and look up my cat. She is looking back at me the same way soI smile at her, and motion for her to come on my lap. I hold her close to me— I appreciate her so much. I look around the room, just taking it all in— how I've turned out.

My thoughts are cut short when I see a pen and paper in the corner, however.

I have a brilliant idea.