Eighteen Letters To Juan Karlos •COMPLETED•

The Sixteenth Letter

It started slowly, the restlessness.

At first it was just in studio recordings; the urge to get up and leave, the irritation, the feeling of being out of place in his own skin. But then it started to happen everywhere. Whilst out with friends, whilst alone in bed at night. He couldn't sleep, felt like a stranger wherever he went.

So he read the letters over and over in the middle of the night, squinting in the dark. Maybe he was too far in, now. Maybe he should've stopped himself before, because this was a girl he'd never met, a girl that was young and alone. She was miles away. And maybe he'd already lost her without ever knowing. Maybe this was stupid.

But he - he couldn't stop. He had to keep reading, he told himself as he buried himself further in his bunk, or else he'd go insane. Too far to go back now he thought as he took in the words, drinking them in, catching at every bit of this girl he could have.

Dear Juan Karlos,

I haven't written to you in nearly three months. Sorry about that. I know you're not reading, but still, I kind of feel like I've betrayed you in some way or another. So here I am. I don't really know where to start, how to make you understand how much life has gotten worse since the last time I wrote to you.

"No," He said quietly. It couldn't have gotten worse, how could it? There wasn't anything in the world that could happen to possibly make this girl more broken, surely.

I don't - I can't

The words broke off. The once elegant writing now shaky, and blurred. Smudges of ink against the squared paper, echoes of pain. Juan Karlos took a deep breath.

I'll start again. Three months ago, I wrote to you and told you that Lisa, one of the only real friends I've ever had, was acting weird. Remember?

Well, it turns out Lisa is leaving. Was leaving. Has already left, which I guess is the final nail in that coffin life's been digging for me all this time. She moved to America, Juan Karlos. That's hundreds of miles away. I mean sure, we text and email and stuff, but I haven't seen seen her in two and a half months. She's not here, not here in lessons, not here to make me laugh. She's not here to defend me, she's not here and I still am, and you hear that? You hearing this, JK? Because I'm alone again, and really, I should have known.

Maggie and her troupe used to leave me alone when I was with Lisa - especially after she punched her in the face - but not now. Now I'm alone, it's worse than ever. And you always see these posters and adverts about bullying saying that you should tell someone, but they never mention what they'll do once you've told them. Schools don't have any policies about how to stop it. They just assume that a harsh word to both parties will halt whatever is going on.

But admitting you're being bullied, that's like admitting you've been defeated. Asking for help, that's a weakness.

"It's not," JK whispered. "You're the strongest person I've ever known."

I realised a long time ago that asking for help gets you nowhere in life. People just don't care. And I think that was always my problem. I always expected people to care, to listen to me and actually that my world had fallen down around my shoulders.

They don't, if you were wondering. They never did, and now I guess I'm gonna have to stop caring now too. Maybe this way, it'll stop hurting so much. Everything else I've tried has failed. Caring only gets you in further. Evan cared about me. I cared about him, and now he's dead.

He died when he developed a primary brain tumor that would eventually take his life.

I didn't know. I didn't understand. I asked one of the nurses, "What's wrong with him? What happened?" Over and over, please, you have to tell me.

She looked at me. "Oh, darling," she said. "I'm so sorry."

And I knew, then. I'd done it again, set myself up to lose someone. I do it every time.

I don't know what I'd do if I lost you.

Lots of love,
Addie

"But I'm still here," Juan Karlos said furiously, hands clutching at the thin paper. Desperation laced his voice, bitter tears at the corners of his eyes. "I'm still here, why can't you see that?"

But you weren't then, a voice whispered in the shadows. Not when she needed you.