Writing Letters [completed // editing]

| letter eighteen may 13 2000 |

"People do not die from suicide; they die from sadness." 

                                     ~unknown 

Dear Angel, 

Dinner last night was a disaster. 

I just... don't even know anymore. 

When my dad came over, knocking at the door, I thought it was somebody else. When I  opened that door, and saw his face for the first time in years, I freaked out, shutting the door in his face. You had come over to me, gently pulling me away, placing your hands on my face. 

"You can do this," you whispered to me softly, before pulling away to open the door. My dad was still standing there, a slightly confused look on his face, before you welcomed him inside. 

"Ash, look at you," he said a wide, forced in my opinion, smile on his face. 

"Father," I had said, rather stiffly. "How... wonderful, to see you again."

You shot me a warning glance, before ushering us all into the dining  room. Dinner was stiff and formal, and during it I couldn't help but scowl and clench my eating utensils tightly. 

Oh, Angel, that was until he brought up my past. 

"So," he said, striking up conversation with you. "Has Ash told you about the time she got herself arrested, and I had to go bail you out?" 

Do you remember how I stood straight up, storming out of the room, into the kitchen. 

What you don't know is that, afterwards when you tried to get rid of him, I was curled up in the kitchen. Sobs were wracking my body, shaking me. It was awful, like I couldn't catch my breath, my face wet, and my eyes red and bloodshot. It must have been a sight to see, coming in to see me, on the floor, shaking, face wet, holding a large knife above my heart. 

Angel, I couldn't do it. I'm not brave enough to end it all, to put an end to the pain. You walked slowly over to me, a frown on your face. 

"Put the knife down, baby," you had said softly, moving my hand, and prying my fingers from around the knife. I remember the hard, cold clattering sound it made as it fell to the floor, signalling the extent of my cowardice. 

Then, you pulled me to you, murmuring sweet nothings to me, as I started to cry harder, sobs racking my body. 

I haven't cried like that in ages, Angel, and I'm quite ashamed of it. 

I've never been quite as broken before. 

As always,

Ash 

so asdfhghj;kyctv/iocyuvcy guise. i got 100 fans and i just. and while writing this i cried, and thi s story is getting even higher in the rankings, and i just love you all. ugh. tysmm. 

toodles! xx