Eighteen Letters To Juan Karlos •COMPLETED•

The Ninth Letter

"Juan Karlos!"

JK jumped in his seat, snapping from his daze. To his wonder, Darren was watching him with an amused look on his face, Lyca and Darlene with a quizzical one. The interviewer with impossibly long hair just smiled. "What?" JK asked, confused. What was so funny?

"We've been trying to talk to you for about five minutes." Darren told him.

Juan Karlos blinked. Sure, he'd been lost in his own thoughts for a bit there, but five minutes? That was long. Once again, he blinked and shook himself. "Really?" He asked. "Yep," Darren replied.

Shaking his head, JK laughed at himself. What was wrong with him? "Oh man. Sorry about that. What were you saying?"

"How are you four coping with fame, Juan Karlos? Is it all getting to your heads?"

Smiling, he launched into the speech he had practically rehearsed. "Not really, no. You get kind of used to it eventually. It doesn't get to our heads. I think we've all all gotten used to it, and there's not that much that can affect us these days." Juan Karlos finished.

Yet even as he said the words, he doubted them. Was there everything that would really affect them? What about Addie's letters? Because they for sure are affecting him, even if it was in some way that he didn't understand.he would find himself constantly thinking about the letters, wondering about Addie and where she was now and what she was doing.

It surprised him, just how much he cared about the girl. He had never even met her. But still, he was desperate to finish the letters as soon as possible.

So when they'd finished the interview, JK hopped off stage, telling the others he was going to the toilet before disappearing along a corridor. The storage cupboard seemed like a suitable hiding place. He closed the door behind him, and pulled the ninth letter out of his pocket after putting it in there earlier.

It was a little crumpled, but that didn't bother him. He then quickly opened the letter.

Dear Juan Karlos,

Don't kill the butterfly.

That's what the girl was whispering to herself as I waited outside Dr. Garcia's office that time. It was a few months after the accident, just after I'd met Chris in the hospital. It still hurts to remember those times, even thinking his name makes my chest tighten and my head swim. I was so stupid. Once again, I felt for the same old tricks that life pulls, after promising myself it wouldn't happen. How many times did I lose the ones I loved, again and again?

Loved ones. Who? Her family? Camille?

And once I'd fallen for the third time, I suppose it was only fate that it happened for the fourth.