Letters To My Mate

Chapter Seventeen

SEVENTEEN

“Please!” Seb whined, kneeling down on the floor in front of me.

“Stop it!” I hissed; Seb would always think he was doing the best thing that would get me into agreeing with him, but in reality he was just embarrassing both himself and me. “Just get up.” I rolled my eyes – I should be used to his constant begging when he wants something.

For the past few days Sebastian has been constantly asking me to meet his parents. Normally, I would love to meet the parents of my best friend but these were the two people that brought both Seb and Ethan into this world and I had to make the best impression! If they meet me now, they will see a weak girl who has trouble talking to others and flinches at almost every movement. I didn’t want them to tell both Seb and Ethan to stay away from me as they were the only two people that actually cared about me; they showed me what living feels like.

However, I have not received any letters from Ethan for almost two weeks. I know that he has not been hurt in Afghanistan as Seb and their parents have been receiving letters from him – although this brightens the thoughts going through my mind, I cannot help but feel heartbroken. I know that he could not possibly know about my father as nobody has found out as of yet and I truly doubt that the three letters I should have received were all late or ‘fell out of the plane’ as Seb suggested. The plane that carries all of these important letters would be secured and it’s not like all of the letters are loose on the plane or the door just so happens to be open so that they can fall out… He obviously didn’t think that through before he suggested it. Although, it did put a small smile on my face as I knew he was only trying to cheer me up – no matter how bad he was at trying.

My father was not home the next night; or the night after that. I was used to his constant disappearing now, though, as it was a regular occurrence once something bad had happened. I would have seen it as a sign of guilt or regret but I knew that my father was practically emotionless now; he had been for 11 years. After two nights, however, he had been coming home every day and seemed to be there whenever I was. His friends have visited once but I have not seen the man that harassed me come over at all. The beatings are not as severe as they used to be but he still feels the need to abuse me almost every time he sets his eyes on me. He has also learnt to attack my emotions and mind rather than just physically abuse me and I think it is starting to show in my every day actions – I feel Mrs Greene’s worried gaze in class every day and Seb is constantly asking how I’m feeling. I guess that my father has noticed how much happier I have become recently and is nervous that I will try to escape soon. However, I know that I cannot leave as he will always find me and then the mental and physical abuse will increase by so much. There is no doubt in my mind that Ethan will find out if he comes home and tries to meet me as he is such an observant person – especially when it comes to analysing my feelings in what I write. He would be a good therapist or counsellor. There is also no doubt at how much I want to run away with him like he proposed but I cannot. He and everyone around me that I associate with will not be safe if my father comes after to me. I don’t want anyone to get hurt just because I was stupid enough to not accept the life I was given.

“Rachel?” I heard Seb’s voice, pulling me out of my thoughts.

“Yes? Sorry.” I replied in a small voice, attempting to smile as I avoided looking into his eyes.

Before I knew what was happening, I felt his large hand grab mine and pull me up onto my feet. I stumbled after him in confusion as he pulled me out of the cafeteria, down the school hall and outside onto our school field. He let go of my hand and sat down cross-legged, leaning against a wide tree that was on the edge of the field. I mimicked his actions and pulled my bag away from his hold before cocking my head to the side in confusion.