Gone » Robsten

PART 2

Kristen spent the whole night crying, cuddled under the sheets. Crying, because she had lost one of the most important people of her life. One of her best friends. The shoulder she could lean on. Her first true love.

It was all her fault. The break-up. The scandal. If only she hadn't let herself being fooled, none of the events would have happened. She would be married to Robert, they would have a family and their own traditions.

Nobody could replace him. Nobody. Never.

The next day, at first sight, appeared to be easier for our heroine. She had a few meetings here and there, to prepare for the upcoming Sundance festival. Her first directed movie was going to be projected in January 2017 and everything had to be perfect.

After a lunch with her colleagues and a short meeting with her friends, it was expected for her to be exhausted after all of these long walks and tiring chit-chats. Her mouth hadn't stopped working, except for walking from one place to another with the company of her music.

Her friends had noticed something off with her, but kept their mouths shut not to upset her even more.

At home, Kristen again isolated herself with the familiar shoebox. She had to read all of the letters, no matter what costed her. Suddenly, it was more important even than her movie "Come Swim", on which she had dedicated the whole summer of 2016.

In case of tears, Kristen prepared a box of tissues and let her doggies cuddle in her lap, before starting to read the note, attatched to the shoebox. Why hadn't she noticed it before? Was it because she was too busy trying to figure out what was in there? Or she had left it rest there in peace on purpose?

Kristen,

If you're reading this letter, this means that you've found the first letter. I didn't label it, but the one you have to read next is #2. The letters are chronologically put, so you'll start from 2008 till the day you broke my heart forever.

Just because I've left you letters, doesn't mean that I have positive feelings towards you. I still loathe you with burning passion. I hope you die and rot in hell. Bitch. Heartbreaker.

With lots of hatred,

The Broken Hearted Man

She sighed. He had poured so much hate in all of these letters, it was devastating. And all her fault.

"I'm so sorry."

There was no point in apologizing. It was too late anyways.

The next letter was from 2008, probably in the early winter.

Dear Kristen,

Why do you have to be so damn irresistible? Why do your lips curve in such a sweet little smile? And why does your hair have to fall perfectly on your little shoulders, almost touching your small chest? Why were you born with the most mermerizing green eyes?

Why are you so perfect? Why is your voice so perfect? When you sing, you sound like an angel, with your little guitar, perfect for your little body. Why? Why didn't we make a douet together? Am I that bad singer? Or do I outshine you? Tell me. Please.

Why are you so nice with me? Don't you see me as a pip-squeak? Aren't I just another colleague? Just one of the many? How do you see me, Kristen? How?

Why do you have to be taken?

And why can't you be mine?

Why do your little cheeks blush whenever you talk about him? Why not when you're talking about me?

Why? What's wrong with me?

I want you.

Yours truly,

The Boy You Noticed Just As Friend

She had noticed him. And not just as a friend. In fact, her cheeks would blush harder when she talked about him and not about her first boyfriend Michael, whom back then she was dating and totally regretted it later in life.

She should have paid more attention to the signs that Robert was the one for her and not Michael. She blamed her ears for hearing but not listening, her eyes for not seeing. Stupid, stupid, stupid . . .

That night, she went to bed in tears once again.