Chapter Text
Josie stormed into her room with a frustrated sigh, the door clicking shut behind her with a bit too much force. She shut her eyes and leaned back against it. She took in a deep, steadying breath to attempt to calm herself down.
It was still a bit too early in the day for her to be retiring to her room, but she simply couldn’t handle being around people anymore. Ever since the Dark Josie incident, no one had been looking at her the same – not even her father, who seemed to think that he should treat her like a delicate vase that might shatter if he applied too much pressure.
Josie understood her father’s concern, more or less, even if it was a bit annoying. What really bothered her, though, was the way everyone else kept stopping what they were doing to stare at her whenever she walked into a room.
They all looked at her warily, like she might snap at any moment and light the school on fire again.
But Josie wasn’t going to do that – she had things under control. She was dark-magic free.
She didn’t feel dark-magic free. The way people kept staring at her and whispering made her feel on edge in a way that was disturbingly familiar. She was starting to worry that if they kept it up, she might prove them right.
It had been a couple of weeks since Dark Josie was defeated, and things had otherwise gone back to normal. Josie tried desperately to ground herself in the status quo.
Things were close to normal, anyway. Landon was awake, his most recent death apparently as inconsequential and anticlimactic as all the rest. Lizzie seemed to have forgiven Josie for her dark counterpart's actions; she was even going out of her way to try to be nice and thoughtful.
The only one who hadn't exactly gone back to normal was Hope. After they managed to retrieve Hope’s consciousness from Josie’s mind, she seemed to begin acting even more distant than usual. She kept tensing up, avoiding eye contact and otherwise dodging Josie's attention.
Josie had been a little hurt at first, thinking that maybe Hope was also distrustful of her after everything that had happened with Dark Josie. But then, Josie realized that Hope was acting just as weird toward everyone else. She was rather despondent, eager to put an end to conversations and lock herself away in her room.
Landon hadn’t thought much of it at first, but he was absolutely devastated when Hope broke up with him. It seemed that he hadn’t expected it at all. Everyone else wasn’t as surprised, having seen the tension building in their relationship from afar or even witnessed Hope lamenting about how she and Landon were doomed in the months prior.
Josie tried to be respectful and listen when Landon ranted to her about how the breakup had blindsided him. He seemed determined to get Hope back. Josie was honestly too worried about Hope to pay him much attention.
That worry certainly didn't ease with time. As she leaned back against her bedroom door and made a concentrated effort to keep her anger in check, Josie seriously considered marching over to Hope’s room and just knocking the door down, demanding answers.
Hope had sort of become a constant for Josie lately. One of the only constants, in fact. The tribrid was the only person who had been able to anchor Josie to reality when Dark Josie was in control. Hope had also gone way out of her way to find Josie and talk some sense into her.
Hope was sort of Josie’s rock at this point, even if she didn't know it. Without her Josie felt a bit destabilized, especially with all of the pressure she was feeling lately.
Josie thought that it was a bit unfair of Hope to be persistent enough to get Josie to care so much, and then to just disappear. Josie could hardly be mad, though – she was more worried about the tribrid than anything else.
Josie sighed again, now feeling more depressed than angry. All she really wanted was to talk to Hope about everything. She wanted to have one of their heart-to-hearts again. All she'd gotten from Hope after the tribrid woke up was a tight hug. Hope had whispered"I’m glad you’re okay" into Josie's ear before releasing her. It was brief and to-the-point because everyone else was watching.
But, it's not like Josie had the right to feel entitled to Hope's attention, she told herself.
Josie shrugged off her jacket, ready to just lie down on her bed and sulk, when something on the floor caught her eye.
It was a red envelope that was just a foot or two away, like someone had slid it under the crack of the door with a bit too much force. Josie’s brow furrowed with confusion as she bent down to pick it up. She flipped it over in her hands, seeing her own name written neatly across the front of it.
It was Hope’s handwriting. Josie was certain of it. Josie had seen her name scrawled in the same script before, on her sixteenth birthday when Hope had left her a gift behind her pillow.
Josie frowned, a bit confused and apprehensive about what might be inside. She made her way over to her bed before opening it, sitting with her legs crossed underneath her. The color of the envelope gave her a distinct sense of deja vu. She nervously fiddled with the talisman that Hope had given her - she just so happened to be wearing it.
Josie dropped the talisman, allowing it to fall to her chest. She flipped over the envelope and unsealed it, pulling out a letter.
It wasn’t like the little note Hope had tucked in with the talisman – this letter was long. Josie nearly panicked, flashing back to the time Landon had ditched town while they were still dating and informed her of the fact that he was leaving in a letter.
But Hope wouldn’t do that, Josie assured herself. Surely, she wouldn't.
Still, Josie read the first few sentences a little too quickly before she calmed down – and even then, she didn’t exactly calm down. She just read slower, savoring the words as her heart beat thickly in her chest, because the letter exhibited a side of Hope that she’d never been shown before.
Josie,
I’ve sat with this letter for a long time now. I debated over writing it – then, once it was written, I debated over burning it. I’ve rewritten it a thousand times over, because it wasn’t quite right the first time. It still feels imperfect.
But that’s usually how it goes for me when I try to capture any feeling in words – it always feels like I’m missing the point. That’s why I rarely speak about feelings at all.
This time, my feelings are thick in my throat, suffocating; I fear I’ll choke on them if I say nothing. I can’t remember a time I’ve felt so strongly about anything else. I hope that it doesn’t overwhelm you, or blindside you as it has blindsided me. I would hate to make you feel uncomfortable.
Finding out that you didn’t know that you were strong – that no one had ever told you that it was okay for you to be strong – left me feeling like I had a hole in my heart. I always thought your strength was as obvious to you as it was to me. I was foolish to just assume you knew.
If I had known that you believed yourself to be weak, I would have told you all about how strong you were every day.
You’ve always been so good at pretending to be okay. Over the years, I’ve gotten pretty good at being able to tell when you aren't. But I wasn’t paying close enough attention this time. I can’t help but think that I’ve let you down by failing to notice how much you were struggling.
It’s left me wondering what else you might doubt about yourself – whether or not you know how brilliant and kind and beautiful you are. I can’t stop thinking about it – losing my mind over it, even. I can’t stand the thought that you might think that you’re anything less.
I need you to understand how much of a work of art you are. I’ve always thought that you were pretty, but your mind, Josie – the color, the innocence of it. You’re so beautiful. So much deeper, so much more than I ever could’ve imagined. Anything I can think of to say feels like it's not enough - but, please, Josie, I need you to understand.
I’m sorry that I’ve been so distant this past week. You didn’t do anything wrong – I promise. It’s just that every time I see you now, I feel compelled to tell you this.
But it’s never the right time, and even if it were, I’m a bit of a coward when it comes to this sort of thing. I tense up and shut down. I’d probably trip over my tongue if I tried to say a word of this to you out loud.
I debated over writing this, burning it, and now sending it – and I get it now, how you must’ve felt just before you tried to burn that note under my door. Trying to build the courage to slip this under your door is like staring at a pool for too long right before you jump in it, dreading the cold and the change.
Hope
When Josie finished reading, she was left sitting on the bed in stunned silence, her jaw slack and her heart pounding erratically in her chest. “Holy shit,” she whispered to herself under her breath, blinking rapidly, her eyes darting around the room like she was surprised to find herself in it.
Josie swallowed thickly, staring down at the note again. Her throat was dry and felt like it was burning; every muscle in her body seemed to be shocked into stillness. Frankly, the letter had left her feeling very emotional and overwhelmed, and it only took a few moments before the floodgates opened and she allowed herself to cry.
She cried for what felt like forever, but there was something healing about it, as if she were forgiving herself. When she finally stopped, she took a deep breath and she read the letter through again.