lost • h.s

chapter .5

Dear Verity,

Smile.

That's it.

That's all you need to do to fake it. Nothing else. It doesn't matter if you want to scream and tear your skin to shreds and throw yourself off a building, you throw on a goddamn fake smile or your life is done. If you don't smile, you'll be forced through rehab and therapy and more and more pain. No one wants to see you get better, they only want to see you fall. And right now darling, falling is not an option.

Love, verity

I wiped the tears from my cheeks and set the letter down on my plain white desk. I wrote that letter 2 years ago, I was 17 then, too young to know anything about the pain to come. I stood up and shook the limbs that had fallen asleep, due to the fact that I had read it again and again, over and over. I padded over to the small fridge in the corner of my rundown, dingy apartment. A quiet yet comforting hum buzzed to life as I opened the door. Of course, I had nothing but leftovers and water. I sighed and shut the door, leaning my forehead against the cool metal, my wavy brown hair obscuring my view. I knew I would have to go outside of my apartment but I didn't want it to be this soon. Isolation was nice and comfortable. Trudging over to my door, I slipped on a dark pea coat with my lavender scarf and tied my black boots. I didn't bother to look in the mirror as I passed. I heard the old creaky lock squeak as I unlocked the door and stumbled into the frigid cold. I shut and locked my door as the snow began to float onto my lashes. I spotted the nearby lights and heard the drunken idiots meandering by. I decided to go to the small Italian restaurant, Rose, as I walked along the cracked pavement. As I got closer and closer, the sounds of laughter and happiness filled the air. My note said that a smile would fix everything.

It still does.