Saturday, July 29th, 2017
I saw you today. You looked happy. You had your arm wrapped tightly around a new girl's waist as you guys waited in line for your coffees. I saw you lean down to her and peck her lips.
You kissed her with the lips that used to belong to me.
I didn't want to see anymore, so I left. I didn't get my coffee, and I'm sure you didn't see me.
I hope you enjoyed your coffee with her.
-
Monday, August 7th, 2017
You saw me today. You saw me in my weakest form. You saw me with the needle in my skin and cuts on my wrist.
You didn't help. You just shouted at me.
"You're disgusting! I can't believe I ever found anything attractive about you!"
Your words hurt me more than you think. They echoed and bounced off the walls of my mind until I believed you.
I wanted to stop. I really did.
But I didn't. I couldn't.
I can't believe you found anything attractive about me either.
-
Thursday, October 26th, 2017
I bumped into you on the street today. You pushed me away and shoved me to the ground.
You scowled and yelled at me once more.
"Thanks for getting my shirt dirty, you pathetic homeless piece of trash."
I started to cry and you just looked at me with disgust. You stepped over me and walked away.
I remember the time when you would gather me in your arms when I would cry.
I remember when you promised me you would never hurt me, never harm me. You lied.
I picked myself off the ground to find my arm bleeding heavily. I could do nothing about it.
I'm sorry for getting your shirt dirty.
-
Friday, February 16th, 2018
I saw you once more today. I was on my knees begging you for help. You just nudged you friends, pointing at me, and laughed.
"Look at that pathetic waste of skin. Do us a favor and kill yourself. Nobody will care."
You looked at me like I was a bug you could crush under your heel and walk away.
And crushed me you did.
You destroyed my confidence, my self-esteem, and my mental health.
I can't handle seeing you anymore. I can't handle you degrading me.
So, I listened to your words. You were right, I'm just a waste of skin. Nobody will care.
I don't know how these letters will get to you, I hope they do. I'm not sorry I didn't try harder.
So, thank you for helping me realize I'm worthless.
Goodbye.
---
A loud knock on Mark's front door made him jump off of his couch and run over to it. He saw a uniformed police officer standing on the other side as he opened it.
"How may I help you, officer?" he asked politely, not sure if he did something wrong.
"Are you Mark Fischbach?" Mark nods quickly. "This envelope was found addressed to you next to the body of (Y/n) (L/N). We do not suspect to you have anything to do with her death, sir."
Mark's body fell frozen and his mind slowed. The body of (Y/n)? This had to be a joke. There's no way she was dead. Pulled away from him.
"Officer, may I ask how she died?"
"She overdosed on heroin. It was clearly suicide. A closed case," the officer said. He glanced down at the watch on his wrist and bid Mark a good day, handing him the envelope. He turned and walked into his police car, driving away slowly.
Mark's heart felt cold as he closed his front door and took a seat on his couch. The envelope felt like dead weight in his hand. He didn't want to open it. He didn't want to know what is inside.
He took a deep breath and slid his thumb under the flap, breaking the seal. He pulled the thin papers out of the envelope and began to read them.
-
As Mark finished reading her letters, he threw them down to the floor, wishing for them to burn.
Mark tangled his hands in his hair and pulled. It was his fault. It was all his fault.
He was the one who threw her out of the house. He didn't give her anything. No money, none of her stuff. Nothing.
He completely cut her from his life. He threw away their 3-year relationship for someone he barely knew. He found someone new.
Mark saw her walk into the coffee shop all those months ago. He knew she was there, watching him, as he leaned down to peck the girl he didn't love on the lips. He knew his heart still belonged with (Y/n).
Mark saw her as he walked by the alley. He saw her hurting herself. He didn't do anything to stop her.
He shouted things at her he wished he could take back. He walked away pretending he didn't care.
But he did. He wanted to throw the needle out of her reach and kiss her until he couldn't breathe.
Mark saw her walked down the street, her clothes dirty and in tatters. He bumped into her on purpose.
When she looked into Mark's eyes, he couldn't remember anything. He didn't remember what to say or what to do. So he turned to anger.
He yelled at her for getting his shirt dirty and pushed her to the ground. He saw that he had hurt her. He didn't do anything to help her.
That night, Mark beat himself up for being so rough with her, for hurting her.
That night, Mark slept with the shirt she bumped into cuddled to his chest wishing it was her instead.
The last time Mark ever saw her was when she was begging for help.
Mark didn't know what to do, so he laughed and pointed her out to his friends. He shouted for her to kill herself.
And she listened.
Mark hiccupped as his sobbing grew uncontrollable. He fell to his knees. He looked up at the sky and shouted until his throat was raw.
"(Y/n), I'm so sorry. I'm so so sorry. Please. Please come back! I need you. I'm so sorry. Please!"
Mark wanted to bring her back. He wanted her to be the first thing he saw in the morning. He wanted to feel her head on his chest as he fell asleep at night.
Mark wanted to hold her close just once last time.
But he couldn't. Ever again.
