Twenty Different People

0.4

Letter four | Adrian Carter

Dear Adrian,

I feel disgusted to even write this letter to you. Tracing your name on this piece of paper with my burgundy pen makes me physically ill to my stomach.

Did you really think that by saying a simple apology would justify? Did you even think in that moment of time when you laid your dirty hands on me? Or how you slashed and toyed me around with your words like sharp daggers? If it wasn't for Brooklyn, I'm afraid that I would've never even made it out alive from the unending torture that you'd made me undergo. 

I really thought that I'd been gifted a second chance when you'd found me. Like a lightning bolt you were, you appeared so fast in the blink of an eye. I thought you were sent down from the Gods.

"Here, let me help you." You dug into the pocket of your clean, new jeans and took out a light, blue pocket tissue. 

I wonder why you stopped to help me. You were so kind, just like Caleb. I didn't want history to repeat, but it was just that...obnoxious nagging in my heart that told me something about you was different. Well, I guess you damn were.

"Thanks, but I—" that was when I took a proper look at you. One look at your shirt, and I could tell that you had a ripped, athletic physique. Your hair was a soft shade of brown and I wanted to run my hands through it.  The rim of your eyes were a deep green and it gradually turned into spirals of rich honey. 

You chuckled—that smooth, velvety voice dangling in the air. You were like an Italian model, and I felt really stupid to breathe or even cease to exist next to you.

"Checking me out already? Naw, how sweet."

My blood seared and a deep, crimson shade of red flushed across my cheeks. You cackled, bending over as you held your stomach. 

"You're just so adorable," you cooed. 

I didn't want to, but you made me exchange numbers with you. I often felt quite uncomfortable at first, but slowly was I starting to actually enjoy your company. Strange, right? But why would I not? You gave me a reason to trust you. You helped me gain new friends. Included me in group activities...and I truly felt normal again. 

But, like the thief you were, you stole it all away from me. Friends after friends began to refuse to talk to me. They saw the fresh bruises appearing on my wretched skin every day yet they laughed. They saw the way you were treating me yet they refused to speak up. And why did you do this, exactly? 

It all began when my brother called me. You remember, don't you? He asked if him and I could talk. You were out of earshot to hear the whole conversation, but that didn't matter. All I said was the name 'Logan' and that'd somehow triggered you. Like the beast you were, you went wild. 

You grabbed me by the throat and punched me. You tore my skin and fiercely gripped my hair, almost ripping it from my scalp. I tried to defend myself from the blows, but you were stronger.   I cried, pleading for help, but you just kept going. And going. Until finally, what seemed like forever, you stopped.

You looked mortified. Looking down upon the bloody mess you made, you sobbed, burying your hands in your face, weeping with sorrow. 

"You can't tell anyone about this," you murmured lowly with a toxic falter in your voice. You glared at me with your bloodshot eyes and slapped me.

"It's all your damn fault, you slut! Why don't you just kill yourself? That'll make everything a whole lot easier. No one would miss you anyway!"

I guess you reached your breaking point by then. You threw out all your anger onto me and blamed me for all the sins that you committed. Your words were like cuts to my wrists, and every time I would do something wrong, your words would replay in my mind like a broken record. It fiddles with my mind and I want to go crazy.

Now that I'm out of your way, I hope you're glad. No one to spill out your dirty secrets, right? Mr. Perfect would stay the same and no one would dare know his terrible past. Well, no one may know, but you'll always carry the same guilty stench with you everywhere.

Because you are the fourth reason why I killed myself.