For Every Letter

CHAPTER ONE

ENVELOPE #1: letters damien wrote but never sent

I am so sorry. I am so fucking sorry. Every time I close my eyes, I see you, and every time I open them, you stand by in the distance. It feels like someone has decided this guilt wasn't enough, that my atonement will only be achieved by the daily renewal of my regret. Your image is now my pupils and irises. Your screams are now my alarm, both in the morning and in the evening. I wake up to the thought of you and sleep to the memory of your rage.

I regret, I swear I do, the moment you met me, just like I am sure you do. I can't explain to you, but maybe it is because I already did. Do you remember, too? I told you that my nanny would murder me if she found out that I had let go of the kerosene and let it eat my burning soul alive. I had made a decision back then, bore the consequences in that time and now I am still harvesting the fruits of my fucking idiocy.

My circus friends would be very disappointed, I had whispered to you, unaware that they were actually my nanny's workmates, deadly crosses of the Marred. Mister Clownie would frown, Misses Juggle Boggle would huff, and nanny would drag me to the training pit again. I had already been beaten for playing with fire and destroying the tent before. I wouldn't be excused a second time.

Still, I made the decision to come to you, to beg for a lighter or a match and a paper or a piece of cloth. It doesn't matter that you were as pyrophilic as I am because I was the one to persuade you to burn. I didn't mean to. I am sorry.

#

I twisted the envelope in my hands, folded it into a swan, then into a boat. The creases had evolved into gaps of paper torn and thinly held together two hours ago, and I wondered if the letter inside was just as ruined, just as shredded.

Again and again, folding and refolding, pulling and pushing, apart and together. Priscilla pressed a rough, calloused palm onto my wrist, but never took her eyes away from the rink in front of us where Julie and Riel were being pushed back by their checkmarks. I wanted to kiss her. She was very pretty when she was worried.

Priscilla Ademon was my suitoress, fianceé and team captain. Our engagement had been our choice and a result of a year-long courtship.

Her focus that instant wasn't mine but Mariel Clouse's and Julietta Redon's, Riel and Julie respectively, my teammates as well, whose attention in turn at that moment was being paid to their opponents or checkmarks on the away rink of our rival school, Crimson.

"We won't be winning this round," Priscilla sighed.

"No," I agreed, "But we might win the next one."

"Very comforting," she glared. I grinned at her, wide and soft, a grin that was immediately wiped when the referee blew his whistle three times in indication of an injury. I watched as Ten and Julie helped a limping Riel down the steps and eased him onto the bench as he insisted that his wellbeing was guaranteed despite the paleness of his skin and the trembling of his arms. Ten, my fourth teammate and the last of our small team, stared at him blankly and pulled a panicking Julie off my way.

"I am all good. Can still play better than a machine gun. Can still-"

"Your wrist is broken," I cut Riel off after I had faintly ran my fingers down his arms, " And you are obviously running on zero sleep. Also, why do your veins feel so narrow? Are you anemic? When did you last have a full checkup?"

"Oh, fuck you, man."

"You need help."

"You act so righteous-" he huffed- "like you didn't trade me a ruined rag after telling me it was a super rare mutation remainder."