Nikita stared at the paper and pen on her desk. After Mortimer had cheated on her with Colleen and betrayed them all, she gave up on him.
Now he was dead, and Nikita was home safe. But she couldn't get Mortimer out of her head.
"Write a letter," MatPat had suggested. "It'll help to get those thoughts down on paper."
It couldn't hurt to try. But it has been ten minutes, and all she had written was 'Dear Mortimer.'
Nikita decided to start at the beginning. What was it about him that charmed her to begin with?
Taking a deep breath, she began to write.
'I saved every letter you wrote me. From the moment I read them, I knew you were mine. You said you were mine.
'Do you know what MatPat said when we saw your first letter arrive? He said, "Be careful with that one love. He will do what it takes to survive." '
Nikita remembered what Mortimer had done to her, but she couldn't help but smile as she wrote the next part.
'You and your words flooded my senses. Your sentences left me defenseless. You built me palaces out of paragraphs. You built cathedrals.
'I'm rereading the letters you wrote me. I'm searching and scanning for answers in every line, for some kind of sign. And when you were mine, the world seemed to burn.'
Now came the part that was hard to write about. The real reason Nikita needed to write this letter in the first place.
"You published the letters she wrote you. You told the whole world how you brought this girl into your bed. In clearing your name, you have ruined our lives.
'Do you know what MatPat said when he read what you'd done? He said, "You have dated an Icarus. He has flown too close to the sun." '
Nikita felt her sadness start to be replaced by anger.
'You and your words, obsessed with your legacy. Your sentences border on senseless. And you are paranoid on every paragraph, how they perceive you.'
She stopped to take a breath, than began writing again.
'I'm erasing myself from the narrative. Let future historians wonder how Nikita reacted when you broke her heart. You have torn it all apart, I'm watching it burn.'
When Nikita started writing, it felt impossible to begin. Now, it felt impossible to stop.
'The world has no right to my heart. The world has no place in my bed. They don't get to know what I said. I'm burning the memories, burning the letters that might have redeemed you.'
The words flew onto the page, as her anger flared up, red hot.
'You forfeit all rights to my heart. You forfeit the place in my bed. You'll sleep in hell instead, with only the memories of when you were mine.'
Nikita stopped writing and closed her eyes. A single tear fell from her cheek and hit the paper.
Signing her name, she uttered the last line in disgust.
"I hope that you burn."
