Break the Rules!

Dear Cecile,

you can probably read this to Castim too, if he's interested in what's been going on. I think he won't be, after all he never cared.

He's asking why I don't call you Mom and Dad. But I don't think he'd get it. It's kind of funny to write about him, as if he wasn't standing right next to me, watching as I write.

He doesn't care if I tell you what's been going on, so here goes nothing:

Do you remember the guy at the store, that I saw on the Saturday we were looking for a job? He's the one I'm talking about. I now also know his name, but I'm not supposed to tell you. I'd also tell you whom you can ask, but I don't want her to get in trouble.

But as I was saying, the purple guy showed up at my shift. Right on the first night. That's where the first cut on my arm came from, and where the other cuts came from all the following nights. He's saying that I'm just a toy. I'm guessing he's kind of right, because if he wasn't I'd probably have done something.

That last sentence made him laugh, but I'm serious. I could have went to the police, even if they think he's dead. I could have told the other employees or even Mike. I could have just accepted Emem's help.

Of course I was dumb enough to not do so. I'm scared, I'll be honest. I can just write that here, even with him watching, he already knows. He also knows that I'm a terrible liar by now. He probably knows more about the way I act, than you and Castim, even tho you are my so-called parents. He's just playing with me until he gets bored, and you'll probably see me at my funeral when that happens.

There's not a lot left to say, just a few things. I love you, both of you. I appreciate every single thing you've ever done to support and help me. I know that you feel as if you have failed as parents, just because of the way I am, that every nice thing I see must feel like supporting a dumb teenage phase. But you're not. And every little thing, be it the first button-up you bought me, the cool leather boots, every single binder or just the haircut: all of that helped me grow as a person. Other than every punishment either of you have ever thought of.

I could right here and now write down every one of those, that's not something I'd just forget. But he's getting impatient again, and you're the last person I'd want to hold a letter with my blood on it.

As you can see, I even failed at doing that. I just made a small mistake, it's nothing you would worry about. But I'm concerned that I might not make it to court in two days. I don't even know where I'm at right now. So, I just want to say clearly: Emem knows and she can defend my position, even if I don't show up. She's smart and I trust her with my life. Emem will handle it just fine.

I also want everyone who gave me one, to get the plushy back. That'd mean that you'd get Goldie, Christen would get back Foxy. The purple guy would get the Springbunny. He still claims to have no Idea where it came from, but it smells like this room, and him. You probably wouldn't like the smell, it's like wet dirt and death. It reminds me of a graveyard, when it's raining. That somehow makes me really uneasy, whilst also being calming.

The last thing I wanted to say, is: I'm writing this on Halloween night. You both won't really miss me when I'm gone. I'm still hoping to somehow manage to get out of here, but he's certain of my death. But if I catch either you or Castim shedding a single tear over me, I will haunt you.

Have a nice life, I'm still hoping to see you soon. By the way, the police will get a letter too, but Emem is the only one of you three whom I'm ok with reading that. Except she needs help with processing everything.

Bye, Maran.