Letters to him

Letter Number Two

✉

Dear,

Tommy Williams

I made my way home. By the time I got home, I was completely freezing. I was stiff as I went up the stairs to my room. Once inside, I ran to my bedroom and dropped face down into my bed. The heater had just barely started, I stayed there for who knows how long, with my eyes closed. The house was so silent, the only noise was my beating heart and my steady breaths. I check the clock on my night stand. It reads 5:60 pm. Shit I think to myself. I stand up fast and unpack my books from my backpack. Mondays is usually the day I hate the most.

One, because teachers seem to be on their periods and so they get their frustration on giving students tons of home work.

Two, I usually run out of coffee by first period. So there is no use in drinking it.

And three, its a Monday.... Who doesn't hate Monday's???

I go through my stuff and eventually end up finishing my homework by 9:40 which means, I'm hungry.

And I haven't ate for about 4 hours and if you round it off, I would say 4 hours and 34 minutes.

I hurry up to the kitchen when I see my older and only sister Caroline sitting on a stool near the counter top. I see her mascara is running down her checks. She's been crying. She holds a cigarette in her right hand. Her hand twitches. She hasn't noticed me, yet. I stand near the wooden door frame. She brings her delicate pale hands with the cigarette to her mouth, and in the other she has a red lighter with clear liquid. She's about to light up the cigarette when I walk in, on purpose.

I act like nothing has happened or whatever she's doing. I get a red apple from the counter top and walk to the sink washing the dirt away. Afterward I lean against the counter.

"You know, if you smoke you die 10 seconds?" I say as I take a bite from the apple. Some of its juices fall to my chin, I wipe it off. I look at Caroline. I see I had gotten her attention, but by then the cigarette was already lit. She raises her left eyebrow.

I then lose myself in the thought of  both of us. How we look alike. We both share the trait of bright red strawberry hair. We both are pale as a ghost. We both have red bright small lips. And we both are skinny. The only difference is that Caroline has a terminal brain tumor. I don't .

"There," she says. That's when I am brought back to reality. I realize she threw the now unlit cigarette to the garbage can.

"You did that for me?" I say sarcastically. She rolls her eyes.

"No I did It because every second I spend with you is already being wasted." She answer as she walks away.

I know she meant it with humor, like we both are. But I admit it kind of stung me to her her say that. I got to say I'm already getting used to the idea of not having her much around. I guess I won't miss her that much after she dies.

✉✉✉

I'm in bed, my cocoon. My life. I lay with a stuffed old raged bear. Clutched right to my chest. The only light visible is the light from my Plasma T.V in which I am watching Netflix and obviously watching American Horror story. I grip my bear from the disturbing scenes from the show. Especially from how messed up Season One is. By the time the final episode is over, my eyelids can no longer open. I then give up and fall to the peaceful oblivion I was awaiting for.

Yours truly,

Sky✉