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epilogue | dear spencer

DEAR SPENCER,

I don't know why I'm writing you this letter. I think its stupid. Don't you think it's stupid? What's the point in writing a letter if the person you are writing to will never receive the letter. It's always going to be in the stupid box of letters I have that I wrote to Mom and Dad and Cole and Aidan and whoever else I think deserved a letter to be written.

It's been four months since the funeral services. Four months since I've last visited all of you. Four months since I went completely mental on the floor of our living room with Tyson finding me and dragging me to the hospital. Four month since I've had a therapist who insists on making me write letters to let out emotions. I cry every day already, isn't that enough?

I waited four months to write you a letter because I really didn't know what to say to you. I don't know what you'd want to here from me because you'd want to hear a lot from me. You listened to me a lot. I could spill everything to you and you'd sit there beside me, soaking up every word.

I don't have a person like that anymore. I guess that's the therapist's job but I can't let her in on everything. I still don't find her trustworthy. I don't know who to trust anymore, you know. Every word I say can be used against me.

So here is everything: The first thing the adults decide to rebuild are schools. SCHOOLS! Why you would put that before, I don't know, housing and shelters and stuff, I don't know but SCHOOLS! I was forced back into school even if there were much bigger issues. I guess you wouldn't be surprised if I said that I had the highest grades in my year. Even without my encyclopedic knowledge, intelligence runs in the family, doesn't it? 

You never got to use that brain in university. You didn't get to fulfill your dreams. I'm sorry. I feel like I should be very sorry.

Anyway, I guess I should tell you that I'm hated everywhere I go. There are a few people that I still have for support but no one likes me. I have no friends in school. Tyson is too busy running the country to make time for me, which I expected. I don't know why he ever thought he could be there for me. He never is.

I guess that was partially my fault. I told him to stay away. I never got the courage to go back to him.

Oh, I guess, speaking of the people I have for support, I should talk about Kass. She could really use your support right now. You'd be so happy if you were here. 

The twins were born last week, and yeah, I did say twins. I feel like there are too many sets of twins in my life, Tyson and Taylor, Hayden and Sofia and now... wait for it... Layla and, uh, Spencer. Yeah, Kass wanted to name him after you, probably she misses you so, so much and she wishes you were here and so do I. I have to admit it's going to be weird knowing a small kid with the name Spencer is going to end up calling me Aunt Lauren. I still can't believe you let this happen in the first place.

Dr. Parker, uh, Karen and I looked around the house and found a photo album with a bunch of baby pictures of you, and your son is literally an exact replica of you, as of now at least. Everyone is pretty sure he's going to end up looking like you. There have been bets placed.

Layla is the older one of the twins, and technically she would be a day older. She was born on April 15th four minutes before midnight, Spencer was born on April 16th, four minutes after midnight (also another reason why he was named after you. Happy belated birthday, brother). I'm pretty sure Layla likes me better. She doesn't cry when I hold her. Spence is another story.

Uh, and, uh, speaking of birthdays, um, I guess I turned seventeen in November. It wasn't that great actually, I was mostly alone for the entire day, which I didn't mind. But I guess that's why I thought that would be the perfect day to... uh... never mind. I guess you should just know that I'm still alive. I don't know if that's a good or bad thing at this point.

Okay so I read over the letter and it's basically just me rambling on and on about life. The biggest thing I guess is that I'm not okay. I don't think I'll ever be okay. I still think locking me up would be the best thing. I feel broken. I'm so tired of all of this.

People have been telling me that after every storm there's a silver lining, a rainbow, something good to look forward to. I can't see it. I can't see it ever being okay. I can't really take this anymore, Spencer. I want this to end.

So, that's my depressing life. How are you? You don't have to write back. I'll just wait until you can tell me yourself. 

I'll see you, Spencer. Eventually, at least.

MISS YOU LOTS,
YOUR LITTLE SISTER, LAUREN