A letter of dear importance

((Masterpost here))

To my dearest…A letter of great importance.

I would like to say that I’m sorry. I’m sorry for hurting you in any way. It was brash and impulsive and I didn’t think of the consequences. As with everything else, I thought you wouldn’t take it very seriously. But you had been hurt and I had realized it too late. Again, I am very sorry for what I had said and done. With apologies out of the way, now I must clarify things. First of all…Yes, it was me who killed Mikhail by crashing his car, though that was…unaccounted for, somewhat. But…if you want me to, I will take responsibility for what happened. Partially. And yes, I had tried to poison that friend of yours, Adele. And it worked. But was it my fault if my temper got the best of me while I saw her kissing your cheek? You looked like you were enjoying it!

In my defense, I thought that in the end, drastic measures had to be taken. I hope you understand that I was simply listening to my feelings. My heart was telling me to react. Please respect that. Oh yes, before I forget…tell your father that yes, I will be attending Mass tonight. And my deepest condolences for your mother’s departure. But before you point fingers at anyone, I’d like to say that for once, I wasn’t the one who staged that murder. Again, this wasn’t my doing this time. By the way…do you remember that football jock you were interested in, Brian Kinney?

Well here’s what “little” of him I’m now holding in my left hand.

And frankly, it’s nothing special. I’ve desecrated bigger. And for a black man, he sadly disappoints. I’m sorry, but in the long run you weren’t going to be happy anyway, so I might as well be the one to break the news to you…before it might’ve gone somewhere where you might’ve regretted.

And then…then was her. You know who I’m talking about. You can’t hide it anymore, it’s too obvious by now.

She slouches a little sometimes. Sitting down. Looks like she’s recoiling into herself, like she’s trying to hide. She’s always in the cafeteria in the morning, doing something or nothing of the sort. Despite her slouching, however, when she walks on her feet, she walks with such grace and elegance that it would only seem fair that she owns the world…Well she certainly owns yours, doesn’t she? To save face in the eyes of your peers though, you always find time to constantly tease, belittle or just ignore her altogether…Yet, I know the awful truth, love. I know that “Little Miss Popular” defies the Status Quo, in secrecy. I know that in your home you take mere minutes to “talk” to her. On the net. And there, its like you two are in your own little precious world. And you two live your own little adventures. And it’s just the two of you. How precious, isn’t it?

You don’t think I know who it is? You think it could be anyone of your little bitches that follow you? Oh I’m afraid that she’s not a blonde, so that shortens the list. To make it easier, let me just give you her name right now. Although you probably have it etched into your mind already.

…Camlyn. C-a-m-l-y-n. Dawes. D-a-w-e-s. Camlyn Dawes. Does she ring a bell yet? Yes? Yes? Yessss?

Good for you, you remember!! And just so you know, I spared her. Yes, I spared her. Although she’s barely breathing. Don’t think she’ll make it much longer. So if you want her not scattered in too many pieces, I suggest you come home. You know where I am.

By the way, don’t forget that I love you!

XOXO…

~Your beloved…~