The memories that are flooding your mind are driving you insane. It’s like there is a tug that you are someone else, but you aren’t sure why or how. The blacked out week that you experienced recently doesn’t help and you feel like maybe you are going crazy. Maybe the alcohol is finally having some sort of effect on you mentally. So you slow that down and it doesn’t help. It doesn’t help that the headache that are sometimes associated with the memories makes you want to drink more. You almost want to disappear for a little while because life is crashing in you in the weirdest way right now and you wish you could stop it. And you want to drink because you are tired of staring at the envelope that was delivered the day prior.
The same envelope that you were now staring at because you want to open it to see what it says. A little part inside of you that is still that excitable girl. But the rational, clear headed adult in you says that it would be foolish to even think about the letter. The handwriting is unmistakable and by the return address it just confirms what you already know to be true. So you continue to stare and hope that, by some sort of miracle, it evaporates into thin air. It won’t, though, because things like that didn’t happen in the real world. People had to face their problems head on, so you open it, slowly. Your hands tremble because you aren’t quite sure how he found you. And you aren’t quite sure what this will say.
You really need to find a place and settle down, little girl! Don’t you realize that it took me much longer to find you this time than all the other times? Yes, I have people on the outside who are keeping track of you. I have to make sure that my little girl is safe, after all.
I’m sorry that the recording thing didn’t work out for you. One of these days someone will see you for the true talent that you are and you will be a huge star, I just know it. You already have the looks, you got that from your mother. Speaking of, I want you to know how proud of you that she’d be. She’d be so proud to see her little girl trying hard to make a name for herself. Keep it up! Make her proud of you.
I know that this is probably the last thing that you want to read but I’d like to see you. There are things that I’d like to tell you, face to face, not in writing. They have to do with your father and it would help aide you in your search for him, if you are still doing that. Even if you aren’t, I believe that this information will be helpful for you. With your birthday coming up so soon, I’d love to see you. It’s been too long, princess. You know it and I know it. It’s important for family to stick together, through thick and thin. Like it or not, I’m still your family and I always will be.
I hope that Boston is treating you well and please keep pursuing that talent of yours. I would request that you write me back if you plan to visit but it isn’t necessary. If you aren’t willing to meet with me, just remember that I can find you. I can always find you.
Your hands are shaking as you read it but you aren’t upset. You don’t cry but you are angry. You are angry and you almost want to take your guitar and throw it across the room. If you didn’t love music as much as you do, you would. The thought of him loving your music makes you almost want to give up on it completely because you never want him to be right again. You know that he knows that he pushes your buttons and you wish that he didn’t.
After the anger settles, you start to become scared. If he does have people on the outside, and clearly he does, you sincerely hope he would never do anything to harm you. Of course, he killed your mother, and he loved her, so you aren’t really sure of anything anymore. Maybe that’s what he wanted all along. If you don’t comply with his demands, maybe he will find a way to have you killed too. The thought isn’t lost on you as you vacillate between every single emotion.
Your hands are still shaking and you look at the words over and over again. If he did have information on your father, would you go and see him? He has done this to you before, in the past, claimed that he had information only to rehash things that you aren’t knew. Or he simply added a piece to the puzzle that lead to yet another dead end. The frustration that you are feeling about wanting to see him is starting to get to you, though, and you feel the piece of paper crumble up in a ball in your head. With a lot of anger and venom you toss it across the room, letting a scream exit your mouth, so loud that you are afraid that you might have hurt yourself.
You appear to be fine, though, and that is even more puzzling than the letter itself. With every weird thing that had been occurring now since you moved to Boston, you still call it home. It is your home now, after all. You have friends here and they are all you need. They could be your family now and, in some ways, they are. For the first time, in a very, very long time, you feel complete. Even with unsettling memories of another person that you are trying very hard to avoid, this is the closest piece of home you could ever find.