Letters To Suicidal

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When Kyler left the note on the brick wall, he had no idea if she would see it. Maybe she wouldn't read it. Maybe she wouldn't come back. Maybe he'd never see her again. And there it was : fear. The fear that controlled most of them. The fear that controlled the girl, the fear that controlled Kyler.

She was all he could think about.

He came back after a day. He saw the note was gone, but there wasn't a new one. He would have wrote another note in hopes that the girl would come back and reply to him. He didn't even know her name.

But he knew one thing : she was beautiful. What he wrote on the note was the first thing that popped into his mind when he saw her. Her hair, her freckles, the little frown on her face - he thought she looked beautiful even if she scowled.

It's been days and he'd always pass by the brick wall. On some days he'd sit down on the bench across from it, hoping maybe he'd see the girl pass by. Maybe he'd be able to catch a glimpse of her. Maybe he'd be able to see her chestnut brown hair again - maybe he'd be able to read about her once more.

But after weeks, he gave up.

He didn't see her. He didn't see letters. Not even words - not even tiny notes or signs that she was there.

Snow began to fall around him as he stood beside the wall. It felt wrong to give up. Not after he finally saw her. Not after how much he'd found out about her. Not with the thought that he kept pushing to the back of his mind. No. He couldn't live with the thought of how the girl continued with her original plan.

But he ended up giving in to being blind. He gave up trying to look for her. He gave up trying to look for a note. He gave up. Then one day one of his friends came up and asked him, "What's wrong with you?"

What was wrong with him?

He was always so lively, even with that tinge of sadness. "You look like you've lost a fight or something. Like, like you've got your heart broken."

Kyler walked away and left the orphanage.

He gave up.

Sometimes he'd see a piece of paper on the ground by the wall and think about "what if"s. What if the girl left it here? What if she didn't go through with it? What if he could see her again?

But then he'd just see that it was a flyer or a receipt, a wrapper or a blank page. And he'd trudge back to the orphanage with false hope and lie down on his bed.

It was the tenth of December when he got a pen and paper. He was biting his lip, nibbling on his nails, his heart beating hard. What would he write?

And when he was done etching three letters on the paper, he left.

"Hey."

He even forgot to sign it.

But somehow he knew the girl would know it was him.