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Letters of Love (and every other emotion that comes with a relationship like this)

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Who are you?

The first time you appeared- in my bathroom of all places- I was terrified, I won't lie. I thought you were one of my dad's patients for a second, which would probably excuse what you told me. Jesus, dude, usually people are scared of that kind of thing, not encouraging.

Then I found out you were actually one of his patients... but you kept appearing off-hours, and randomly throughout the house.

The worst thing is that honestly, I didn't mind that much.

After what you, it?, did to Leah, I was scared out of my mind. You know I saw whatever that was that was clawing at her face, but I don't dare ask about it. Honestly, I'm not sure I want to know.

It was what happened last night that threw me off. 

Firstly, you were in my house again. Secondly, you had me lead people down to the basement again. But I've been thinking. I was scared when you pulled me into the closet, but the second I knew it was you I enlisted your help. Even now I don't really know why, but I've come to realize that the second I saw you, I became a little less scared. 

Is that crazy of me? We were in the middle of a home invasion, you were in my house again out of nowhere, but I wasn't scared. 

Not of you. 

And then, just like last time, you helped. First with Leah and now with those fucked-up reenactors, and you kept us safe. 

Again, with the basement.

I don't know. I should probably find it scarier that you always end up in my house. I should probably be scared of what you've done, even if it's for us. 

But I'm not.

You'll never see this anyway. 

 


 

The letter gets folded once, twice, three times. It's pushed between two pages of a Poe book until instinctually, she removes it in the middle of the night. It's read once more, and then shoved firmly under the mattress. She tries to forget it's there. 

Her dream doesn't let her.