Twenty Different People

0.3

Letter three | Caleb Woods

Dear Caleb,

It's been over a month and I've tried everything to get the burning image of you out my mind, but nothing's working. I've tried going to different restaurants, cafés, libraries, but it seemed as if we'd already travelled everywhere together. Even as I went to new locations that we didn't yet go to, I could still feel the warmth of your hand radiating off mine as you whisper sweet nothings into my ear.

After all that time, was everything you said to me just a lie? I wonder if you really meant it when you said I love you, because I did. Not only did you break me mentally, but physically too. It hurt, Caleb. Everything did. I wanted you to make the pain stop. Every night, I cried silently into my pillow as my fragile heart tore a little more each time, until nothing was left, just a huge gaping hole of blackness.

I can still recollect the moment on how we met through history class. We were paired up together by the teacher to complete a school project. We didn't say anything at first and it was awkward—sitting there and staring into your hypnotising silver orbs. You had that effect on me that made me feel weak to my bones and how I wanted to melt under those hot, glittering swirls of your gaze.

You probably couldn't notice, but my heart was pounding like crazy. My pulse went up and my breath hitched. You spoke your very first words to me with a smooth, honey laced voice that could've made any girl swoon.

"Louisa," you said. 

You smiled, presenting your white pearls and those damn cute dimples that was bound to haunt me for the rest of my life. Your hair was a light shade of brown and it curled slightly. Freckles decorated the skin on your nose and you had a sharp, strong jawline. But what mattered to me the most weren't your looks, it was the fact that you weren't a jackass. You were actually nice.

For the next past weeks or so, we both studied really hard at each ends of our fair share. We often scheduled to meet up for coffee and talked in the local Wilmslow café. You had a great sense of humour and seemed to make me laugh every time. I didn't realise it yet, but I was slowly starting to fall in love with you.

After we handed in our neatly completed assignments, we started officially dating. Boyfriend and girlfriend, hand in hand as we walked proudly down the hallway. Our dates were short and sweet at first, until I started going over to your house. I was so naive and...innocent. I often saw the way you looked at me with those greedy, lustful eyes but thought nothing of the sort. I felt you squeeze or caress my thigh while we had our weekly movie date but I brushed it off, because you hadn't tried anything yet.

But it was on a Sunday, at 12:56 p.m sharp when you struck your move. You tried to force me into things that I didn't want to do. I cried, screaming whilst kicking you. You apologised profusely and left. That was it. You were gone, and this time, you weren't ever coming back.  My heart sunk to the pit of my stomach and I felt warm bile rise to my throat. 

We broke up the next day, but it didn't matter to you at all. You had already found your new replacement. She dangled off your arm like an accessory as you two kissed passionately. I often heard you bragging about her while talking to your friends, saying how good she was in bed. 

Were you really just that desperate for someone to sustain your needs? What, so maybe if I'd given it to you that day, I'd still be your go-to slut?  That's not who I am, Caleb—unlike some people, I actually care about my dignity and self worth. I don't just easily throw it away.

But, leaving that all aside, I just wanted to say thank you for at least still taking me out, making me believe that I was still worth it, even if you didn't mean it. I needed to hear those words in that moment of time, but I can never forgive you for what you've done to me. Did you not even think about how I would've felt? Selfish prick.

You are the third reason why I killed myself.