Trash: A Collection of Stories

Chapter 13

Dec 14, xx10

Dear Laxus,

I'm honestly giving up on you responding. It would be great if you would, but I guess you really hate me. And I mean, if you aren't going to respond, then there is no reason for me to continue writing. You probably don't even open the envelope, as soon as you see my name on the return address, I bet you put it through the shredder. You always found it fun to shred random, insignificant papers, how is this any different?

And, somehow, I still find it necessary and comforting to send you these updates. Even if you have stopped caring about me, I will always tell you everything that's going on. I obviously learned my lesson when I didn't tell you about the unplanned vacation, but how was I supposed to know they would keep me here?

If you haven't guessed already, they denied me permission to leave. Miles actually laughed in my face, as if they were never going to let me leave. Sometimes, I think that's the truth, but I'm not letting myself give up hope. At the end of the year, in two to three weeks, I'm going to try escaping again. The group of friends the boys usually have over are throwing a party, which they will most likely attend. That's when I'll make my move. After doing some digging around in the basement, I found a crowbar. From what I know, the boys don't have a clue about it, but while they are gone I'm going to try to bend the metal bars in front of the windows. Then, smashing the glass, I will be home free.

Again, not the safest or smartest idea, but I'm slowly running out of options after my first attempt, I'm kept on close watch and the house is practically baby proofed. As in, the boys keep any sort of, well, anything in their cars and out of the house.

But hopefully I will succeed this time, and maybe I'll be able to live my life again. Until then, though, I have to keep on the low.

I know you will never read this, or care about the contents, but wish me luck.

Sincerely,

Mira