The Blind Boy [✔]

40.

Rory listens to them, one by one, in the solitude of his room. He can't bear to listen to the first one at first, flinching at the first sentence, like Daniel is hitting him rather than writing to him. 

He doesn't know what to expect. A confession of attempted murder? But no, his father wouldn't let something like that slide. It can't be a confession. 

Rory takes a few deep breaths to calm his racing heart, does the techniques Doctor Tu has taught him, and tries again. 

_________

"Rory,

I don't even know what to say. I was going to call, but I'm pretty much blocked on everything right now, so I guess we're doing things the old-fashioned way. 

I know that you probably hate me right now. 

I wasn't drunk, but I was driving recklessly, and for that I am so, so sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen. It wasn't planned. I don't know what's going on with you, but I know you're in the hospital right now. I've just been released. Please call me or text me if you can. I'm so glad you're okay.

Daniel." 

_________

"Rory,

I cried when I learned what happened to you. I understand now why no one wants me near you now. 

I just want you to know that I'll do anything to make this right, though I understand that maybe that's not possible. I know I'll regret that night for the rest of my life. 

I hope me never being able to play baseball again is some form of justice for you – my left leg is practically worthless now. Of course that's nothing compared to you being unable to see – I pray all the time that your sight is returned to you. Even if my leg somehow starts working, I've given up on baseball. It's what I deserve. I hope you're doing okay.

Daniel."

_________

"Rory,

This is probably going to be my last letter. You know, since lawyers are involved now and stuff. I'm sure my letters will become evidence now. I wish we could just talk face to face. I have so much to tell you, so much to apologize for. I just want you to know that I never intended for this to happen. I never tried to murder you. You're my brother, for always, and I am so, so sorry. I'll never be sorrier for anything in my entire life.

Daniel." 

_________

"Rory,

I lied. This is the last letter. I felt like the other ones were kind of lackluster in comparison, but I'm not much of a writer. Now that the investigation is over, can we please meet? See each other? I know you must hate me now, but believe me, I never meant for this to happen. 

I was just so angry that night. At everything really, but the crash was NEVER my intention. I lost control of the steering wheel for a split second during our argument. 

I also was drunk. 

I only had a few beers in me, but apparently that's all it takes. 

...I'm also a drunk. You know, just in general. I denied it before, but nope, you were all right. I'm a dirty, awful drunk, just like my dad. What a fucking cliche. 

I know we all drink together, but I can't handle alcohol very well. I don't get happy and charming and sloppy like you. I get mean. I've been mean. 

I lied before, about my ex. I did hit her. It was only once, but it happened. It broke my heart. It broke my heart even more when I lied about it. She didn't deserve that. I wish I could just blame the alcohol for everything, but it's my fault for getting that drunk. 

I'm in AA right now. This letter is one of my steps, but also isn't. There's no way I can atone for that night. This isn't just a letter to make amends or to dump my guilt. I just want to know that you're okay, that you're still functioning, and no one will tell me anything. 

I hope that you're happy, I really do, but I know how upset I've been since my leg stopped working. I know you're probably worse off. I keep hoping that you're not, but that's just wishful thinking, isn't it? 

I also know that you're probably better off without me, so if you feel like burning these, please burn them. 

I miss you, is all. I miss my brother. I miss being kids with you. I wish all the time we could go back to those days, when all that we were worried about was what color we should paint our treehouse. I can still remember how those summers smelled, especially on the field. I can still remember your laughter, how brightly it rang. 

I hope to god I didn't take away your laugh, your spark. Because you do have one. It's infectious. And maybe we both misused it at times, your charm, but don't kill it. Don't let it die. 

I've always been jealous of it, I suppose. Of you. Of that. You're going to go places, no matter what. Even now. Even if it's in a different way. So don't do anything stupid, okay? I know how you get.

Daniel." 

_________

Suffice to say, he's a sobbing mess by the end of it.