I sighed as I shut the front door. I held the letter close to my chest and, of course, Kyle jolted awake looking angry. He stumbled over and gripped my shoulder.
"Why did you come home after work?"
"I worked the night shift as well."
Kyle raised his hand and let it fall on my cheek. The red blob stung and I let my tears fill my eyes. He looked at the letter and grabbed it.
"What the hell is this? Hello my little song bird..? Watching you... golden river... blue eyes... pale lips... so easy to..." he paused. "Who the hell is William!?"
"Kyle, I don't know!"
He took out a cigarette lighter and held up the letter. Soon, that oh so delicate handwriting... was a burnt and crisp yellow. He took the burnt paper and ripped it.
"If you're cheating I'll do more than just slap you..."
He sat back down, and I walked out the front door. I climbed into the car and drove with no real destination. I found myself in the Fazbear parking lot. I sat in the driver's seat with steady tears coming down my face. Soon, a soft tapping came from the window. I looked up and I got out of the car to hug him.
"Mae? Are you alright?" Asked Scott concerned.
"I'm done... Scott, I need help."
As I said this, his eyes got big. "Did he hit you?"
I nodded my head looking down. Scott hugged me and pulled out his phone. He let go to call someone, and then walked over to his car to grab something.
"Come stay at my place."
"Scott, I'm fine. I'll stay at my-"
"I'm not asking. I'm not going to let my friends get hurt."
I paused and nodded. I climbed into my car and followed him to a nice looking two story house. I walked up to the porch, following him inside. The house was decorated beautifully. The front room was filled with a bright light and happy theme. To the left, was an artificial Christmas tree. He caught me looking at it, and he walked over to it. He picked up an envelope. It looked exactly the exact same as the one Jeremy gave to me.
"I'm supposed to give this to you."
"Thanks," I said taking it shaking.
I sat on the couch and opened it. The same lettering, the same ink, the same signature.
Mae Haffman,
My poor song bird... does your cheek hurt? I can't believe that he would hurt someone so beautiful. I called and asked Scott to let him stay with you. You do not need to be in that kind of environment. My poor song bird. Sleep well love~
William
