Title: The Letter Just Sits There
Feedback: Any and all is appreciated, criticisms taken willingly.
Archiving: Ask and ye shall receive!
Pairing(s): B/S, sort of
Summary: A letter mocks its writer.
Warning/Disclaimer: Slash, slash, and more slash. Touchstone, the bane of my existence through ownership and so much more legal jargon I can shake a stick at angrily.
Author's Notes: * sigh * Poor Brooke and Sammy... I just love to torture the latter so...
The letter mocks me with a certain air of defiance. Thereís no reason it should still sit there, but it does, and no matter how many times I enter her room with a reason to set it a flame with the lighter I always bring with me, I just canít torch it.
I just canít, and as much as it kills me to admit it, secretly, I could never bring any harm to that letter. It would be like hurting her, and sheís already been hurt enough.
Sheís laying there in that hospital bed. It should be me. It should be Nicole. It should be anybody but her. She doesnít deserve this. She never did. Nevertheless, sheís lying there in that hospital bed all alone, because she hasnít woken up, yetÖ and itís been four months.
Four months since I wrote that letterÖ that letter that now sits emptily on her desk amidst pictures, unfinished chemistry assignments, and hair products. Itís a disgustingly sick tribute almost, considering a half consumed Diet Coke also sits on that desk. Nobodyís had the heart to clean off the desk and wipe away the dust bunnies gathered as time goes ever on day-after-day without so much as a care in the world as her life wastes away.
I remember when I wrote the letter, the day before junior prom, the day before Harrison made his choice. It wasnít his fault that this had happened; sometimes I think itís solely my fault. If I wouldíve just given her the letter instead of carefully placing it on her desk right before we left the Palace for the restaurant that night so that she would find it the next day when she arrived home exhausted from a night of dancing and partying.
Sitting in my bed, I thought carefully how I would tell her how I felt. Then, it just came to me, and I started writing with a fervor Iíd never known in my life.
Thereís something you need to know. Iíve never had the courage to tell you to your face for a million different reasons but tonight is different. Tonight, no matter who Harrison chooses, I know in my heart that itíll be the wrong choice. I know now that thereís only one person in this world that I love more than life itself, and thatís you. Itís always been you. It could be nobody but you. You just need to know that. I love you. Iíve always loved you. And I just thought you should know.
Now, she lies in her bed at the hospital oblivious to the world as she lies in her coma, because she never went to prom and she never came home to read my letter.
So, for now, Iíll just visit the letter everyday before I go to bed. Just like I visit her everyday at the hospital before school. Until she comes home, reads the letter, and says, ďI love you, too, Sam.Ē
|The Letter in My Purse