Dear Sage (V1)

:::FIVE:::

Dear Sage,

It's been a week since I've last written a letter to you. I'm not sure why I keep doing this honestly, but it gives me a way to get some of my anxiety out, so I guess that's why. Plus, I can't actually contact you anymore and maybe it substitutes for that as well.

Speaking of which, I've stopped waiting for a reply from you. This is because the police, or investigators or whoever the hell is commencing this search found your phone in your house, untouched with 10 percent battery life remaining and about 300 cumulative missed texts and calls from me, Val, and Kade combined.

Of course, this gives reason for the police-investigator-whoever-the-hell-is-commencing-this-search-people to have to question us or whatever so... They questioned us.

As one does.

And we answered said questioning.

As one also does.

Separately.

Because it's a freaking questioning and it'd probably be a conflict of interest to interview us all at once.

Yeah.

Apparently Kade had quite the interesting encounter during his questioning. Allegedly, the two of you had -prior to this whole issue- held an entire conversation through the use of memes. More specifically, through the use of Pepe and Donald Trump memes. Why, I do not know, and how, I do not know either. The police-investigator-whoever-the-hell-is-commencing-this-search-people had the same questions which resulted in an awkward ten minute conversation in which Kade attempted to explain the concept of memes to a group of people who just were not born to understand.

At any rate, I congratulate both of you on being able to hold a conversation through that medium. Such things are difficult to do.

The police-investigator-whoever-the-hell-is-commencing-this-search-people questioned me last. They asked me what my affiliation was to you. I said that we were (as far as I was concerned) best friends. They then asked me about you and how your temperament was before this all happened. I said that you seemed to be your normal self prior to this all: funny, intelligent enough, witty, normally happy, and a complete smart-ass. They asked if there were any mood swings I had noticed. I told them that your emotions seemed to always be about the same, though you'd have the occasional angry outburst and sometimes purposely looked to confront someone or insinuate a confrontation. They asked if I knew anything about your home life. I said that your parents were total irresponsible d-bags (I didn't actually use that word though) and sometimes you'd stay at my house if things got too rough. They asked how you dealt with that. I said your go-to emotion towards your parents seemed to be either a loathfull indifference or explosive anger. They then asked if I knew of any medical conditions you had. I was confused on why they would even be asking me this but I said that you had a peanut allergy and asthma. They asked if there was anything else. I said that you were anorexic in 7th grade because your dad constantly called you...

Yeah...

Never mind, you know. And I don't want to say it.

...

Anyways, um, I said you got better soon after and began eating again and that you'd never shown signs of fluctuating weight after that... And that you were fine and I always made sure you ate after that and...

...

Then they'd asked if you'd grown suicidal.

...

I said no.

...

I asked them if they'd thought that you'd killed yourself.

...

They looked at each other for a few seconds and then tuned to me and said that, quite unfortunately, it wasn't uncommon for things like this to happen.

I got angry at them and said that you'd never do such a thing and when they didn't say anything more I left.

...

Crap. I don't know why I'm crying now. The tears just kinda started and I can't stop them. Sorry... I'm sorry...

I hope that you will be okay... And now I'm scared that you aren't... But...

You have to be. You just have to be.

Sincerely,
Remy