Letters From the Lost

~Max~

Noah finally let me get out of bed. It took a lot of convincing, he somehow thought I was made of glass. He wouldn't even let me get up on my own to go to the bathroom.

Noah was really sweet and made me some toast for breakfast. As I finished my last bites of breakfast, I read the newspaper.

"Max, can I talk to you about something?" Noah questioned. A knot formed in my stomach, I tried to figure out what Noah was going to say. His hand was behind his back, hiding something. I could see something in his eyes.

"Sure, what is it?" I swallowed the ball in my throat. Noah set a box on the counter. I knew exactly what was in that box. It was all of my suicide letters. The letters I had written to loved ones, I hoped Noah wouldn't bring those up. Impending doom was on my mind when I told Noah to read them. "Oh," I whispered.

"Why didn't you tell me? I can help you Max, I really can. I just can't do anything if you don't tell me what's wrong. Please just tell me what's going on in your mind. Please!" Noah begged, his voice cracked slightly. Ever since I got home, Noah has been a little more emotional. Him crying was something I was getting used to even though it's only been a few weeks. "Why did you write those?" He whispered.

"Oh, Noah, my love. Those letters...Those letters were written by a girl that was lost. But she found help, and she found someone that saved her." I took a deep breath, "I wrote those when I didn't know what to do with my life. I was with Jackson and my father was still constantly on my mind. I'm not that girl anymore. The one about you...I thought I was going to lose you...I just couldn't stomach that."

Noah walked toward me, towering over me. I looked up at him, and all his beauty. "You were never going to lose me, my love. I'm sorry I made it feel that way, but I promise I will never leave you. I am yours and you are mine, forever and always. I just wish you would have told me sooner. I wish you would have told me what you were really going through, you can trust me."

"Noah, I told you. I wrote those when I was going through hell, but they didn't seem to matter when I found you, you know why? Because you took all the darkness from my soul and turned it good. I had so much pain in my life and I didn't feel it when I was with you. Those letters, they don't matter anymore. Because I'm not that lost, broken girl anymore. I'm just me, a girl who fell in love and doesn't intend on stopping."

Noah opened the box and grabbed a letter. He unfolded it, and I glanced at the page. The first line read, 'To my dearest Jackson,' My heart stopped. I thought I had thrown that one away when I was still with Jackson. "Max, this letter...It says alot about your relationship with Jackson. More than what you've told me. But there was one thing that I really want to talk about." He put the letter back in the box and put the lid back on.

Noah walked toward me and grabbed my hand. He pulled my sleeve up and revealed all my scars. I felt tears form behind my eyes, ready to fall any second. Noah ran his fingers across the raised scars. I wish I could go back in time and undo all of the mess I made on my arms. The artwork I created with my pain. Somehow I taught myself that I deserved it, I deserved to be hurt. But eventually self-harm became an escape, I could escape from my mind for just one second when the pain blurred into a messed up feeling of catharsis.

"Are you okay if we talk about these?" Noah whispered. I lightly shook my head up and down. I remembered what Noah used to tell me, no secrets, no lies, no matter how uncomfortable it'll make you.

"Why did you do it?" He asked. Running his finger up and down the horizontal lines. His other hand grasped mine. Tears started to stream down my cheeks. The memories of my life before Noah.

"The only thing in my life I could control was how much of my own blood I spilled. Causing myself pain was the only thing I could do freely," I answered. Noah lifted one of his hands and softly placed it on cheek, he wiped my tears away with his thumb smoothly.

"I know you've probably heard this before, but hurting yourself is not a healthy way to let out all your emotions. But I do understand why you feel that way. When life spins out of control and you can't get anything to go your way, sometimes there's that one thing that helps, even if it's for a little bit. But sometimes a little bit of euphoria isn't worth the pain that you'll experience in the long run," Noah said.

I pulled my hand away from his and pulled my sleeve down. Shame filled my body. I regretted every cut and burn. I have to live my life knowing that I made a mistake and there's a permanent showing that I'm screwed up.

Noah lifted my head to look up at him. "Your scars are not your shame," he whispered. He placed his forehead on mine. "They tell your story...and I love your story." He smiled and kissed my forehead softly.

"Noah?" My voice cracked slightly. Noah hummed quietly in response. "I'm eternally yours," I whispered.

Noah smiled softly, "I'm eternally yours."