Letters From A Dead Man

7 | letter #2

To whom it may concern,

If you're reading this letter it means you've decided to listen to my story and I thank you for that. I don't know if you will but I can always hope, at least that will give me some comfort in writing these.

Anyways, welcome to letter number two. (I guess you've noticed I've labeled the envelopes for you) I'm going to start at the beginning, so that everything will make sense in the end.

So first, my family.

My mother was a drug addict. She got sucked into the black hole of addiction after she had me. I guess it was her coping mechanism to being a single mother.

We lived in an old rundown apartment that was more unsafe then running down the side of the freeway. It constantly smelt of smoke or mould and the only light you would get was from the small living room window during the day.

I remember her constant flow of guys who she would bring over, either for sex, or drugs, or both.

It seemed as though it never ended and I eventually got used to it. Until she actually managed to find someone who stuck around.

He was always scowling and the one thing I remember most about him was how greasy his hair always was. He'd constantly run his fingers through it too, and then he'd touch almost everything in the apartment, including me.

I was disgusted by the thought of him and anytime he was over I'd either hide in my room or leave the house once I got older.

It was hard to avoid him though, especially since I was still only eight at first. For some reason he took a strange liking to me.

I don't like talking about those times much, I'm even having a hard time writing it now. I'm sure you understand what I mean when I say he would touch me.

I still feel dirty even years later.

It went on for a few years. I have no idea if my mother knew about it then or not but she always seemed to turn a blind eye to anything that man did.

I hate her for that. She was part of the reason I went through what I did. Her drug addiction is what brought him into our life, my life. And I know for a fact that to this day she's probably still doing them.

I'm sure that man is still out there somewhere. I don't know if he did it to anyone else, but it's always been a constant worry at the back of my mind.

I've never told anyone this, so you're the first to know.

Maybe you could even use this letter as a confession from me and hunt him down. Haha.

As if you'd do that for someone you don't even know.

Sorry if I'm boring you with my sob story. This isn't even all of it yet.

Don't feel bad for me though. By the time you're reading these I won't be able to feel anything anymore.

It's honestly a comforting yet terrifying thought, death that is.

I think I should end this one here. I don't have much else to say about my home life honestly. I hope you'll read these and thank you again if you do.

                                                                Sincerely,     
                                                                                   Brooke