Yknow that feeling when you're so deep in your own thoughts that you feel like you're slowly drowning and unable to swim to the surface, desperately waiting for that hand to plunge in and pull you to the surface, saving you from yourself and your own mind. That letter was the hand.
For some inexplicable reason it had been the thing that pushed me to start healing. It had taken a full 15 exhausting minutes but I made it to the railing and back to bed. I was done for the remainder of the day but it was a start. Everyday for the following week I got similar letters and to my surprise but delight, I got the rewards as well. I felt like a child getting a treat for eating all their vegetables but whatever works I guess. I was never a materialistic person but I can't deny how much I looked forward to these gifts. If I walk the distance the letter told me to, the desk day is recieve the book along with t another letter for my next task. I had no idea how this person knew what books to get but every single one was either a book I'd really wanted or a special edition of one which I knew to be expensive. There were all placed on my now growing bookshelf and filled me with a sense of accomplishment. The question of who this person was never left my head as well as how they knew I was ill and what books to buy. I can't deny a part of me was creeped out, but another part was desperate to find out.
Each day I went further and further, resting and stretching and repeating the next day. After only 7 days I felt one hundred times better than I had before. I felt stronger and happier also. I'd managed to walk to my friends dorms or down to the corridor and the aim of getting the reward powered my resilience.
I wanted to thank the mystery person. I assumed it was a man based on how they called me "amore" but who knows. The deranged part of my brain hoped it was a man but the logical part didn't care. They had helped me and fast forwarded my potential months of slow recovery or a week, and that's what was important.
And then, for the first time in way too long, I went outside. The lake wasn't too far from the castle but far enough that by the time I reached the edge, my legs collapsed under me. I groaned as I hit the groaned and scrunched up my face as I pushed myself up. Breathing heavily I sat against the tree on the lake edge and finally relaxed. The pain in my thighs and calf's was strong but I tried my hardest to ignore it as I looked at the water. I didn't know how long it had taken me to get to the lake but it had felt like hours. I had a feeling I'd pushed myself too far too fast but all that mattered at the moment is that I'd done it. Id left in enough time to get to the lake, rest, and walk back before it got dark but underestimated just how weak and exhausted the walk there would make me. As I rested against the tree my body felt weak and heavy as my eyes started to close. I was never the type of person that could fall asleep anywhere but this condition had apparently changed that. The soft breeze, grass and rock under me and sight of the glistening water was the last thing I remember before darkness.
I woke up in my dorm. In my bed. How? My eyes adjusted quickly to the dim lighting in my room but confusion filled me quickly as I remembered falling asleep by the lake. That is until I saw the note on my bedside table. The clock said 8:37 which meant I'd slept through to morning. I tucked my hair behind my ears and read the note.
"Rest today, amore, you deserve it"
A small smile appeared on my lips as I read it until I realised how insane I was becoming. I put the note back and lied back down, staring at the ceiling. I was in the same clothes id fallen asleep in, thank god, but I couldn't shake the feeling of someone's hands on me. Something caught my eyes and I looked over to see a new book on my shelf. They'd been in my dorm? They'd carried me back? Who the fuck was this person, and how do I find out?
The questions flooded my brain and the drowning feeling returned. The only difference was that this time, it wasn't a depressive feeling, it was uncertainty.
I read for 8 hours straight that day until I felt like my head was in-between that cymbal banging monkey toy and the words on the page stopped making sense. Pansy brought me some food and we talked for a while, mainly about whatever I'd missed in classes and whatnot. I didn't bring up the notes, books or mystery person and instead just let her talk. By the time she left my headache had settled and the sick feeling I had previously had from lack of food faded. I was still in pain but I drifted off to sleep easily, exhausted taking over my body. All I knew was that somehow I had to find out the sender of these notes.
