Never Sent, Always Thought

Dear Ethan,

School has become torture; Sam sends me filthy glares and everyone else ignores me. I tried to pass a note to her in class, but she ripped it loudly in front of me. It was all for the best really, you were right. It was simpler to go along with the flow.

I came home from school to your apartment. Slowly I had began to stay over at yours during the weekends. My parents didn't mind, I was eighteen and they thought you were the sweetest thing since boiled candy. My mother was particularly enamored with you, especially when you would call her to check it was okay for me to stay over.

You're furious. There was an incident at school, and Sam had managed to hit me on the side of my face with her shoulder bag. It's bruised along my jaw line, light and not very widespread. It feels like nothing more than a bruised knee, but your anger is boiling over, all over me.

"Who fucking did that to you?" you snarl, standing over me as I enter your flat. You are out of school, and work at one of the major branch stores. Hollister, you said, but I've never seen you there when I used to go with my friends. "Who marked you like that?"

Your possessive streak could be seen as sweet. "An accident, at school." I whisper, looking at the floor in the hopes that you would relax. "Sam, her bag hit me. I think there was a folder inside it."

You growl loudly, "Like hell it was an accident! Why did you let her do it?" You swipe at me, and catch my eye. I stagger backwards and meet the wall of the small hall. I slide down it as you storm past me and slam the front door behind you.

"I didn't mean to, I breathe. I clutch my throbbing face and consider what to do next.

Love, Logan