Chapter 0:

A Letter to You

The Death of Life


I don’t sleep much anymore. During the day I wear a mask of who I once was, but as time continues to pass, the cracks in my mask grow deeper. It’s at night when I can remove it and be my new self; a monster that would’ve frightened the old me. Darkness doesn’t affect me like it used to. Darkness is power, and power is survival.

I’ve lost track of how long it’s been since I last saw your face. I was told it’d been three months, but it feels longer. It’s a struggle to remember the details of your face some nights. You used to visit me in my dreams, but since I’ve stopped sleeping, the visits too have ceased. I’ve taken all sorts of medications to help me sleep, but nothing graces me with that same euphoria. Just one glimpse of you would be enough.

I thought leaving home would help me find a way to you. I’m sure Logan is angry, but I’ve grown quite capable on my own. I wish I could stay here in your old apartment. The couch still holds your scent, and it brings me comfort, but Logan’s too smart. He’s checked in here multiple times since I left. After what happened to Grandma, I just couldn’t stay in that house a second longer. Sometimes I doubt you’ll ever return to free me of this curse you forced on me.

It’s grown hard to remember your name. I know it starts with an ‘M’ but I can’t decipher what comes next no matter how many times I try to write it. At my worst, I question if you ever existed or if it was all in my head. If it weren’t for the memory of how your lips tasted that day, I don’t think you’d still have a place among my thoughts.

I rewrite this letter within my head almost every night. I think I’m hoping that it’ll somehow reach you where you are. We used to talk within my dreams. It felt so real, like you were back here beside me. I never thought anything could have such strength in this world.

Our connection, I know it was powerful. What I know most of all is that I’ll see you again. Your face may have grown hazy, but I know your scent and I know how you taste. I’ll never forget those.

So, I’ll survive until I see you once more. Until I see your face and feel the flood of all our memories together return. I know it was important. I know it. It had to be. As I stand here by your window, looking up at the stars, I think of you. It could be months, years even, and I’d still be waiting for your return. Afterall, time no longer matters.

I am an imitation of you and can stand by your side forever with how I am now. The world is cruel, isn’t it? I can finally stay with you through all of time, but you aren’t here. I’ve looked down from this window so many times now that the constant stream of traffic flashing by is therapeutic. You told me to wait for your return. Passing time has grown more difficult and consuming the souls of the dead has done little to ease the emptiness you left inside of me. I wonder if it’s time I come to you.

A trip to the Underworld, a permanent vacation from this cruel world I’m alone in. Would I find you there? Have you forgotten my face and my name as well? I long to know, and perhaps now’s the time to find out.

I’ll see you again, even if it means the death of me.
Xan Ti
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mikasajean
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Momentie
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Abraham B. A.
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