Work Text:
Dear Bob,
I hope this letter finds you well. I’m sorry for the way I’ve been with you as of late, I feel as though I should explain myself.
Ever since I was a little girl, I knew there was something wrong with me.
I’d often get this strange feeling, the feeling of having two hearts inside of my chest, beating in tandem. The feeling of always having someone lurking behind me, watching, guiding my every move. The feeling that I was never alone, even when my mother was out and the only people in the house were me and the dog.
I couldn't explain it, I still can’t. I would tell my mother about seeing someone in the corner of my eye, hearing breathing other than my own in an empty room. My mother would only look at me, worried, then would try to reassure me that, no, there wasn't anyone else but the two of us. But I know what I heard, and I still do.
Then, there was the nightmares. It would be like I was in the shoes of a body much larger than myself, as though it had swallowed me. I could see what it saw, but I could not move. I could open my mouth, but no sound other than garbled noises escaped me.
The nightmares began after my mother had disappeared. Like the presence I had always felt around me grew stronger now that she was gone. It scared me, Bob, I was so afraid.
I would see children fighting each other, a hive falling on the sickly boy’s face. And the screams, they stuck with me even after I’d wake. But the body I was stuck inside, it would do nothing to prevent any of this. In fact, it would help the people I’d see, even when what they were doing was terrible.
And finally, the hallucinations.
I’m not too sure when it all started, only when I was older of course. I would see a well and hear a little boy’s scream echo from it. Yet when I’d look, nothing would be there at all. Or when I’d see a tent and a woman with red hair would be reading people their fortunes. Only I would blink and the tent would transform into a telephone booth.
The worst of all was one day, I returned to my mother’s old home, seeking answers to where she could have gone. Though all I found was a strong, somber presence. Yet it was alive, a heart or two beating from below.
Then suddenly, I opened one of the few doors that were unlocked, and I found her. My mother. Though she was far too young, a child even. It was strange to see my mother as a child, it was even stranger to see her using a board to communicate with spirits.
For some reason, when she spoke, it felt as though she was speaking to me.
“Can you hear me?”
“Yes.” I’d reply.
“What is your name?”
“William.” The name had slipped, from my mouth yet not my tongue. I did not know a William, nor had I ever heard of one. Yet the name seemed far too familiar.
“What do you want?”
“To live.”
The door slammed shut in my face, as though an angry gust of wind wanted to prevent me from ever seeing my mother again.
The guilt of how I have been with you lately seeped under my skin, incrusted itself in my nails, making it seem as though it only happened mere moments ago. I cannot bear to see your eyes again, in fear of finding something other than love in your gaze. At least until I am sure you can one day forgive me. And so I am writing in hopes of explaining myself, in hopes that you can still love me despite all that is wrong with me.
I remember the other day clearly, you were early at the cafe, and you were waiting for me. It seems as though it's your favourite thing, to sit and wait for me, yet I always feel late even when I myself am early as well.
You hugged me, tightly, and we sat, ordering our usual things. I remember we talked about the sky, the birds that roamed free while we were confined to the land, unable to fly. You told me, perhaps it wad a joke, that you wished you had wings.
Something inside of me was wrong at that moment, very wrong. Inside my cup, the coffee had turned green. I looked up at you, yet you were no longer there. Instead, an older gentleman sat, a twinkle in his eye, a small cup with a similar green mixture in his.
“You drink first, brother.”
That man wanted me dead. He knew that drinking the elixir would kill me, or maybe he hoped it would. I sat frozen, staring at the man, all too familiar with this event. He was no brother of mine, he was a traitor, he wanted eternal life for himself despite all the help I put into the work for the elixir.
It was then that I yelled, “You will not fool me again!”, and perhaps I had really yelled. The man stood up, but your face was peaking through his, like it was your turn to be swallowed by a strange body. “You are no brother of mine, no brother!”
I felt a hand on my shoulder, was it yours? Please assure me it was not you, because I did slap it quite harshly before standing up and rushing out of the cafe. I could not stand being there much longer, the looming presence that had always been around me loomed even harder. And the twinkling eyes of the man, I did not trust.
I only looked back once, and you were staring at me so sadly. I was sure my heart had broken then, or maybe it will break if you tell me you no longer wish to see me. My mind will understand, my heart will not.
I hope you will forgive me.
Sending all my love,
Laura. x