Losing A Friend

LETTER 6

He wasn't sure what to do. He felt so much anger and guilt. He couldn't believe what he was reading. He wanted to go back and tell her that he was there for her. He would help her, she didn't have to worry anymore.

He shook his head and yelled out, "It's too fucking late."

He cried out in anger as he threw his empty bottle of beer at the wall. It shattered, he looked at the pieces of glass, all sprawled out in different directions.

He chuckled. As he grabbed another bottle and opened it, he took a drink of it and collapsed on the chair. This whole time he had been pacing around and drinking. He was trying so hard to understand and to find a way to make himself look at her pictures. He couldn't face her. Not after all the pain he had caused her.

He looked at the sprawled out letters, taunting him to read more. They carried so much pain. She was laying out all of her past for him to read.

He placed his bottle on the table and grabbed the sixth letter. He sighed as he ran his hand through his hair in weariness.

Beloved,

He kisses me on my forehead.

Forehead kisses are used to show compassion, trust, comfort.

And every single time he would give me one, it didn't reassure me. I didn't feel comfort, trust, or compassion.

He always did it after he used me. He would repeat the same sentence over and over.

"You're so loving to me–I'll always love you."

How could he say this? How could he tell me he loved me? How could he tell me lies and expect me to be by his side for the rest of his life.

I ask myself how, yet I was there believing everything and allowing him.

I can't even be angry. I fell for it. His charm, his lies, his smile, hugs, him overall.

When you fall for someone, you fall for their personality, their looks, their little traits. You fall for the image they were showing. And when you're falling for that image they are showing, sometimes–you fail to notice the small red flags.

With much love.

Why didn't she see the red flags? Why did she have to be so naive?

He was so angry. He missed her. He missed her touch, her smell, her wild hair. He wanted to hear her voice once more. He wanted to hold her again, just like he did that night. He wouldn't have let go if he knew it would be their last time together.

He wanted to see the monster who had ruined his best friend. He wanted to yell at the man who hurt his girl. He wanted to find him, and make sure he never saw light again. That man took her away from him.

But he couldn't only blame the man. He also hurt her. He pushed her away when she needed him. She wanted to be with him and tell him everything but it was too late; and now, instead of having her tell him in person– all he had were letters. She was no longer with him. She would never tell him face to face what she had gone through. He could only read.

He found himself guilty.

And with that, he downed his bottle grabbed his car keys and left his house.