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It's been six months. It's exactly six months today. Six long months since you’ve rendered me alone. Unwanted. Purposeless. I’m writing this to you so you can finally have just a little understanding of how your absence has affected me. Never before did you really seem to get it, let alone care. Now? Now, you just might finally know. Now, you might finally have the slightest idea of what you’ve done, and what you’ve brought upon yourself.
Jesus… I still remember that day as though it just happened. There were really no warning signs for this. It was the night at the theater. Well, it was for you, and your friends (so you say), but not for me. That’s what never occurred to me. Why would you go out with them to some place, but exclude me? God forbid that I wanted to tag along too. I was your boyfriend after all. It’s not like we should’ve spent a bit less time together, or anything. Yeah, we saw each other a few days out of the week, but we could’ve done a lot better.
It was obvious to me that it was the theater down at the plaza. After all, it was the one we’d go to, and it was really the only one in town anyway. On my way there, my eyes searched for that possibility of seeing the golden, 2008 Mazda you drove. I may have seen it on a couple of the turns. It’s not certain to me, though. I didn’t see where you parked, but I’m pretty sure it was you that I saw through the parking lot, walking into the cinema with a few other girls. There were three, to be specific.
I had what would happen all planned out. Walking into the movies inconspicuously, it was within my planning to find you among the small crowd of people. Although, yes, it would’ve been a bit of a shock to you and your friends for me to suddenly ask for a word with you, it was the point. You sort of needed to be put in your place. There was a tiny smirk in my heart at the thought of your expression at first seeing me. Escorting you into the hall just outside the movie you were seeing without my company, and possibly another man’s, we could talk. What I planned was to give you a stern talking to, and somewhat harshly, but still civilly give you a piece of my mind. You’d look up to me, as I did so, just as an intimidated puppy. Yeah, like an intimidated puppy with that sad look, you’d know you did something wrong. It wouldn’t be too, too big of a deal, and of course, it wouldn’t get physical at all. Still, you needed to understand. I thought out that you would learn, know better from my necessary correction, and we’d part ways for that evening. There was a brief sense of satisfaction in the idea that came to me like music. The notion of you walking back in, still having that look in your eyes, was a growing crescendo of operatic voice.
That, however, was not the case. To my surprise, it wasn’t at all the case. Initiating the steps of my plan, my being followed yours into the movies. Trying to explain to the damned, ticket attendant that I was only intending to have a talk with someone inside, he threatened to kick me out. It would be provided by further refusal to buy, and hand him a ticket before entering the audience. He had my compliance, but not without me rolling my eyes at his idiocy.
In my reluctance, and to regret even more so after leaving the movies, my wallet lost a little weight for the ticket. Nonetheless, a stride of confidence graced my footsteps as I walked into the movie-showing to find you. The crowd viewing the movie at the time was relatively smaller, so that made finding you a bit easier. What made you even easier to spot though, was the sound of your laughter at the probably trashy romantic comedy on the screen. Even though it was in a collective with your friends’, I could pinpoint yours with no shred of difficulty.
Approaching your angelic shape from the empty row of seats behind you, my hand gently grasped your funny bone. Even though the touch of my fingers was soft, you gave a sudden jerk, and turned around to me. It was sudden enough to even make me jump a little. The look you gave me was naturally that of surprise, but almost seemed like that of disgust too. That wouldn’t make sense though. Why would you feel disgust towards me? After all, we were together at the time. We wouldn’t have been if you really looked at me with any degree of disdain, right?
There was, for some reason, a rather interrogative tone in your voice when asking me what my person was doing there. Telling you that I needed to talk, you stared into me. Your face wasn’t with the expression that was illustrated in my thoughts, but what I’d normally interpret as a silent rage. Again, that wouldn’t have made any sense though. I’ve done nothing wrong.
After a couple seconds of that hateful look in your beautiful eyes, you told your friends that you’d be back in a moment. Your friends, finally being pulled away from their obnoxious laughter at the film, took their glances at me. There wasn’t any shock to me at their faces though. They gave me a rather solemn look, and then went back to the movie, shaking their heads. Those girls acted like somehow, my presence just ruined their cinematic “experience.” Whatever. It didn’t matter to me. They never appreciated me anyway. I never quite understood what you saw in them, and from my interactions with them, it was obvious that they couldn’t be pleased. Well, not by me, anyway. It’s not as if they were worth it though. Frankly, if it were up to me, you would’ve seen them the way my eyes did, and forgotten them a long time ago. Maybe it was those so-called “friends” who put you up to doing what you did to me in the hall.
The look of rage got stronger on your face as I heard an all-new tone in your voice. Greatly enunciating the consonants in your words, you were speaking to me quietly, as if to hold back yelling. Who did you think you were? Anyway, you started using exaggerated words that actually hurt, like “possessive,” “controlling,” and “unbearably clingy.” You went on about how me calling, and texting “constantly” was purely out of control. Apparently, you had no room to breathe. I didn’t get why you’d think that. Sure the quantity of my calls can be just a few times a day, and the texting was slightly more before your responding to them, but it wasn’t that much. It wasn’t as much as you tried to portray it to me. Calls from me daily were only three, maybe four. It’s not as if those are big numbers, you know. What really got me though, was the last remark you made before storming back to the movie. Not only did you get in my face, and say that it was over, but you also made a threat to call the police if I try to see you without invitation again, especially if I followed you back in. Why though? Didn’t you like seeing me? That would only make sense. After all, we were together then. How would you not enjoy a surprise visit? I know I’d enjoy them from you, but perhaps you just didn’t know well enough to be appreciative.
Walking out of the building, it just didn’t quite process. What just happened was still floating just above my skull, even as my hand turned the ignition in my car. Of course, I left immediately after you stomped back into the movie. It wasn’t sure that you’d do this, but an encounter with the police was never known to be a fun thing, so I decided to simply comply for the moment.
What just happened didn’t quite sink in until the day after. God, I could feel my heart having plunged into my stomach. There were black waters surrounded by an empty, dull sky keeping it down under. Inside, it really did feel like drowning. Going through the four-hundred and fifty nine pictures of us stored on my computer, including the ones where you weren’t looking at the camera, it came to me. The realization came to my head like a burst of brilliant sunlight through my bedroom window. There was still a chance. There’s always a way. There’s always a way to make things change, and make them right again. That’s the funny thing about love. When someone falls in its depths, they can never let go. They can never entirely let go. At first, it seemed like the wiser choice to simply give up, but something that took so much of my emotion deserved more effort than that.
The willpower in me was strong enough, but there was still no glimmer of what to do at that point. I had faith that it would come to me though. No solutions arrived to me immediately, but it did. Not to worry, Dear. I always knew that you had the feeling that leaving was wrong, and maybe you didn’t understand just yet. There was still that glimmer of hope, even in those times where things seemed hopeless. I’d prove those tides of pessimism wrong though. Like a gorgeous mermaid with open arms at the horizon, that bit of hope was always there for me.
Not knowing what to do plagued me for weeks. However, what was both a blessing, and a curse at the same time came along. It was a disease to bring me far more hatred beyond my anticipation came twenty-seven days after you made your initial mistake. Now that I think of it, it could’ve happened before my, and the rest of everyone’s knowing. Upon the daily, secret pleasure of a routine to look at your Facebook page, even though you instantly deleted me from your friends list after that dreadful night at the theater, that’s when I saw it. You changed your status to being “in a relationship” with some unworthy son of a bitch named, “Steve Bradley.” Just seeing you holding that bastard in your tender arms in your new, profile picture heated my blood. I could feel it boil in my veins as a growing nausea churned in my stomach. It was only natural, but at the very nanosecond of seeing that, there was a bulging craving to stab him to death in his sleep. A quick jab in the neck, maybe? Perhaps through the heart. Heh, then again, stealing you like that doesn’t guarantee having a heart at all. Still, it was something to think about, and a bit ironic at that. At least my knife will finally come in handy, and sure, such an action would repulse you at first, but you’ll come to understand.
Not too long after that, it came to my knowledge that the smiling imp that stole you didn’t live far from me at all. The information was provided to me from sources like whitepages, and intelius. In fact, it was roughly a twenty minute drive, according to the maps shown over Google. My GPS found the address without a problem too. It’s amazing what you can find out about people through the internet though, isn’t it?
About a couple days of planning were needed for the right place, the right place to dispose of certain remains. Once the deed I had in mind would be done, there’d be no point in just keeping them. That’d just be silly now, wouldn’t it?
It had to be done though. It was absolutely necessary. It was simply needed. You understand. I know you do. We were meant to be! You were meant for me! Of course, you already know this, and you’d understand why I had to do this. Then again, maybe you don’t need to be reminded. The obviousness of it all had to have been buried in your conscious, like it was in mine. Someone like me can get a little worked up, as you’ve seen before, but it’s okay. You were always the compassionate type, so there’s a lot of faith in me that you wouldn’t think I was crazy.
A handful of previous days of mine were spent observing his home. A hunter does need to stalk his prey. A hunter has to know what he can before striking, and pushing his fangs into the prey’s throat. It might sound a tad weird, but how else would he learn? How else would he learn not to take what doesn’t belong to him? Perhaps the ones who should really be pitied are his parents. They were the ones who didn’t raise him any better. It’s impressive what a good hiding spot an unassuming tree across the street can be at night, especially with a good pair of binoculars. I learned a number of useful things though, one of which being that at least one of his parents parked outside. Apparently, their garage could only fit one car at a time. It wasn’t often that they’d be gone during the night, so it took a number of days to know when to move in.
Driving near to his house, my car slowly, and carefully parked a just down the street from where he lived. This was so that just in case he knew what my Chevy looked like, he wouldn’t know it was me outside. I wasn’t sure how he might know, but then again, you can never be too careful.
With the binoculars, my eyes checked the driveway. There wasn’t anyone’s car on the driveway, but it was necessary to check through the garage window. Of course, one of them could’ve been parked inside. Rushing, but tiptoeing nonetheless, I made sure to get a closer look to clarify if one of the cars was parked in the garage. That part of the house, to my luck, was empty that night. Quietly rushing behind the string of houses he lived along, I crawled along the backyards, doing my best not to make any noise.
Silly them. Getting in wasn’t difficult by any means. They never took a simple minute out of the day to just lock the windows. Slinking my body in the house through one of the windows that allowed a view to their backyard, I did my absolute best not to make a sound. On every one of the nights where careful watch was made, the knife was carried along in my pocket. Any night could have been the night for all I knew. It’s better to have, and not need than need, and not have, right?
Wandering about the house briefly, but still managing to sneak to his bedroom, my ears picked on on him talking over the phone. I couldn’t make out what he was saying initially, but to my dismay, his speech became clearer as I got closer. Putting my ear against the door, the most primal rage inside my brain boiled into steam of pure hatred.
What instantly peeked my perfect anger was hearing him, in a bragging tone, tell how he and you… I can’t bare to say. The strain is simply too great. The anger speeding through my bloodstream was far too much to talk out of doing so, and my hand opened the door slowly enough for him not to notice. Well, he didn’t notice at first.
Outside of my expectations, he turned to me with a flabberghasted look. Perhaps the second or third footstep into his bedroom was what gave me away. As you imagine, there was a, shall we say, “a bit of a scrap.” No need to worry though. I got away okay. There were a few sore spots, and maybe a small limp in my steps, but I got away just fine.
Luckily for me, running wasn’t too, too much of a burden. Of course, the neighbors hearing him wouldn’t have made my situation any better.
I’m sure by now, you may be feeling, well, a little shocked. You’ll understand though. You always did. Having found this letter in your bedroom, you’ve probably figured out by now that someone like me wouldn’t have much of an issue finding his way into your room.
Perhaps, you may be wondering where your cell phone is? Remember how you probably thought you lost it the other night? Not to worry. That wasn’t the case at all. It was the better decision for me to confiscate it, just in case another may be planning on taking what’s destined to be mine. You know I don’t enjoy deceiving you, but I just needed to make that quick errand into your bedroom window. Now that I think about it, it was an even better decision than I first realized. After all, what if, in your possible disorientation, you tried to call an outside party against me, like you threatened to do at the theater? Maybe I’m a little smarter than I think.
All I want to do is talk, and nothing more. Tonight, you’ll probably be reading this, since it was just slipped into your mailbox today. That person carrying things, who put it in your mail at the edge of the afternoon? It wasn’t just some young salesman of sorts, wearing a hoodie. It was me. I mean, I didn’t want you to know before it was the right time. I promise I just want to talk. I don’t plan on being outside of your room for too long though, but I’ll wait as long as I need to.
After our talk, there are other things to do. Mainly, it’s disposing of the throwaways I’ve stored in the trunk of my car. The hole where his heart used to be is probably beginning to rot by now, with Steve having been in my trunk for a little while. I just wanted to fix the main problem first, before throwing away the more minor ones.
Please, just open the door, and let me in. I just want to talk. You understand, right? You need to realize that love like this, especially like this, never dies. You need to understand that our destiny needs to be fulfilled, and no matter what happens between us, I can never let go.
Credited to Dylon Winfield