Trash: A Collection of Stories

Chapter 11

Dec 7, xx10

Dear Laxus,

Miles hasn't fixed the power yet, he says he's too busy to call an electrician down here, and it's too expensive right now. They are also pissed because they had to spend money on bandages and off brand Neosporin.

I guess it was pretty idiotic of me to try to escape, they will let me go home soon enough. I hope. And the closet is now where they want me to sleep. If I get on their nerves, that's the first place they put me. The basement is the second, but with the broken window, they don't trust me down there unsupervised. I feel so childish compared to them, I'm always told that I need to be babysat since I can't stay out of trouble, I make a mess of everything, I'm just not mature. At least at the home, I'm the second oldest, I don't feel so childish there.

I'm so ready to just go home already. And please, if I did something worse to not make you reply, please tell me. I feel so abandoned, like you know how people say they'll be there for you no matter what? It's all so fake, just a way to comfort someone. No one will ever be here for me, and I'm such an idiot for thinking anyone will. At first, it felt like no one would leave me, but now, it's as if anyone could careless.

I want someone to care, tell me they love me, and mean it. I miss when we were younger, when I arrived at the home. You seemed so cold, since Makarov couldn't support you on his own, he worked at the home and thats where the two of you lived. Thinking back, it's pretty funny, you resented me, said I was annoying and whiny. I'm glad things warmed up, though, I wouldn't know what to do if things had gone differently and I didn't have you in my life. Sometimes I hope you would feel the same way, but I can never tell. Maybe you are just using me as someone to talk to, maybe you are just playing with my emotions, maybe I'm just a pawn.

Deep down, though, I know that's not true.

It's late, and I can barely see what I'm writing in this dark closet, the only source of light being a lighter I found under the couch. I'll write again later.

Sincerely,

Mira