You're Dead to Me
Two.
Four months later~
"Natalia, your so, so brave. Are you sure your ready for this?" Dee asked me, worry written all over her porcelain face.
I nodded, instead of replying, trying to recall what exactly I had wrote in the letter to her.
Dear Aoife,
I have so much to say. I could write pages and pages about how you make me feel, how you made me feel, how I think of you, and how I used to think of you. You make me sick, Aoife, sick. Your name makes me gag. Thinking of how you made me feel, what you did to me, makes me want to crawl into a hole, and die. Thats how you made me feel, Aoife, you made me want to die. I hope your fucking proud of yourself.
Your ruined my life. For that I will never forgive you. Ever. I never did anything to you! I did everything for you, you didn't even have to say please. I was the best best-friend you could have had! But what did you do? You took advantage of me. For that I hate you. I hope, oh my god, how much I hope, that you rot in hell, for what you have done. I hope you feel guilty, so so guilty. I wish you would just go away, die. But it doesn't matter, because your not here anymore. Not to me. Your my enemy, no, not even that. Your nothing to me. Your dead to me, Aoife. Dead.
-Natalia.
With that in mind, I picked up the lighter. I grabbed a piece of the ripped up letter, I wrote one for all of you guys, but I decided to leave the best one for last.
With the flick of a switch, the piece of paper was burning by the tangy flame. The orange colour drew me in, widened my eyes. It was beautiful. Beautifully flawed. Just like me. No- just like her.
Once all the pieces were turned to ash, I felt a weight lift. She was gone.
I didn't have to mourn, I had already done enough of that.
She was dead to me.
And I couldn't have been happier.
"Natalia, your so, so brave. Are you sure your ready for this?" Dee asked me, worry written all over her porcelain face.
I nodded, instead of replying, trying to recall what exactly I had wrote in the letter to her.
Dear Aoife,
I have so much to say. I could write pages and pages about how you make me feel, how you made me feel, how I think of you, and how I used to think of you. You make me sick, Aoife, sick. Your name makes me gag. Thinking of how you made me feel, what you did to me, makes me want to crawl into a hole, and die. Thats how you made me feel, Aoife, you made me want to die. I hope your fucking proud of yourself.
Your ruined my life. For that I will never forgive you. Ever. I never did anything to you! I did everything for you, you didn't even have to say please. I was the best best-friend you could have had! But what did you do? You took advantage of me. For that I hate you. I hope, oh my god, how much I hope, that you rot in hell, for what you have done. I hope you feel guilty, so so guilty. I wish you would just go away, die. But it doesn't matter, because your not here anymore. Not to me. Your my enemy, no, not even that. Your nothing to me. Your dead to me, Aoife. Dead.
-Natalia.
With that in mind, I picked up the lighter. I grabbed a piece of the ripped up letter, I wrote one for all of you guys, but I decided to leave the best one for last.
With the flick of a switch, the piece of paper was burning by the tangy flame. The orange colour drew me in, widened my eyes. It was beautiful. Beautifully flawed. Just like me. No- just like her.
Once all the pieces were turned to ash, I felt a weight lift. She was gone.
I didn't have to mourn, I had already done enough of that.
She was dead to me.
And I couldn't have been happier.