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She thinks you might understand. He thinks you might listen. think you don't understand as much as he thinks you do.

Nine years ago, I got here. I was made for him, because he needed protecting and there was nobody around to do it. Not his friends, not his family and certainly not you.

We're perfect together. 

For a long time after I arrived, we were fine and I was content to stand aside and let him figure it all out on his own. There were dark days, of course, but nothing so terrible as I knew he couldn't handle alone. But he was never alone. I was always there, ready to take the reigns and pick up the pieces if necessary. 

But it got worse in May when I allowed theso-called friend to slip inside, then away, tearing all of my hard work to pieces! The day he came to us with his poisonous words, printed neatly on our typewriter, we listened as he whispered in the dark. His words of weakness and surrender, whispered into my ears, encouraging an ending to our perfect union and giving him erroneous ideas about an after he couldn't promise. The poisonous snake looked for companionship in the silence, hesitant hope putting an acrid smell in my nose and forcing me to do what I'd never wanted. 

His edges faded as I strengthened and spread to fill them. 

I didn't listen and I wouldn't allow him to either as I brought the snake in our garden to its knees. And it cried, its poisonous bite turning into acidic tears that fell and whispered of its deception. We didn't need its kind here and how quaint for it to consider its own release. 

That night was quiet as I called for our brother to bring us home. So was the following day, as I gradually released him from the comforting abyss of not knowing, though he silently wondered after his Judas. Silently pleased, I settled in for more comforting days as the beginning of better days carried the darkness away.



We shove through the crowd, deaf to the screams of students who cry for blood or a ceasefire. We hear Sam screaming and as we break through the crowd, Patrick is the first thing we see. He's hunched over breathing heavily with his arms held twisted around his back. 

Our clenched fist takes down the ginger haired aggressor first. A fast jab that catches the side of his face first and a quick follow up to the chest that knocks the air from his lungs. While he's trying to breath, we heave a kick to his midsection, sending him sprawling as his friend comes to his aid. 

Brad, we think with a growl, is standing wide-eyed and panicked as he sees the boy coming closer. Brad is coming closer, body aimed to where Patrick has fallen to the floor as he catches his breath. The growl is a physical sound this time as our curled fingers pushes the jock with such force that he's thrown across the circle of observers. Brad doesn't miss it, his eyes coming to rest on ours as we glare down at him with all the hostility Charlie needed my help to reveal. We don't want him any closer. Patrick is ours.

We're shoved from behind then. Swinging around to put ourselves between the initiator and Patrick, the heel of our hand greets him with a blow to his nose that instantly begins to gush. He tips his head back, moaning a scream as he stumbles back. Together, we follow, and strike twice more. He twists and falls, blood spraying the closest of the crowd and spattering in bright contrast against the white floors. 

When the blood stops rushing in our ears, we notice that the entire room has gone silent. We look around, seeing the fear in the eyes of those surrounding us. There's some blood covering our knuckles. Beneath it, they're heavily bruised and swollen. The adrenaline still rushes, making our fingers tremble as we turn them over and clench the hand again. 

As we reach down and pull Patrick to his feet, his towering figure is reduced as his head rests on our shoulder. His own are pulled in tight and his breathing still rattles in our ear. Our eyes stare through Brad, standing restlessly across from us, behind his downed friends. While I silently preen at the looks in their eyes, Charlie speaks. 

"Touch my friends again, I'll blind you."

And we understand each other. Because I can feel that Charlie means it. I know we are on the same page. 

We're perfect together, we think.



Our world had never collided again in such a way until that day. The day we were silently alone, but perfectly together, and I watched our... familiars, screaming in the middle of the cafeteria. 

That day we were powerful, together. These walls, these windows, will not change that. But you will see and she will see only what we want you to. Together we'll smile and sooth and let you all know we'll be fine.

He won't have time to write you any more letters. This will be the last letter and want you to know that he was in a bad place before we started high school. And I helped him. Because you don't know what it's like to be us. 

When the doors open, will be here to protect him, just like always. It will happen, because I am here. And we are looking at us. And we are beautiful. And in this moment, I swear... we are infinite.