2/1/23
That letter, that damn letter. It still haunts me, even after sending it. I feel as though I only wrote it in a dream, that I did not just bare my entire soul, my mind, my thoughts, to a girl who has betrayed me over and over. A woman. Not a girl, she made that clear the first day we met. I remember it so dearly, when she met me and we shook hands, fates already beginning to intertwine. She kissed my cheek, that first day, and it burned with the heat and passion of a thousand days. On the last day, before everything fell apart, I remember what she did, too. We woke up together, linbs entangled in each other, and she kissed me with such passion I was afraid to pull away or I feared I would stop breathing. Josephine is tiny, yes. But she has the power of a thousand armies, and men kneel at her feet. She kissed me, and I kissed back. She tasted of the sweet wine we had drank and mints, and I will forever remember that. And then, then she had wrapped herself around me, entangling me in her limbs. We held each other, that morning, and I remember almost wishing for peace to come, but having such a sinking feeling that it wouldn't..that something, something was going to unravel. And, well, I later turned out to be right. When we all found out Josephine and Ben had lied..when I killed Ben, in the dead of night in that alleyway. When Josephine held a knife to my knee and stabbed me, and so in return I shot her in the shoulder. The friend turned to dead in one shot, the lover turned to enemy with a single blow.
I don't even know if she'll want to see me. When I think about her, it feels as though water is drowning my lungs. I am drowning, and I do not know how to fix it. I have always wondered if it hurts, in those final seconds before you are fully submerged, not coming back up, ever again. Does it hurt in the same way it does when your one true confidant is dead? Does it hurt in the same way it does when you have to tell your young daughter that no, Katherine isn't coming back, she's dead? That no, the man she is marrying is one she's barely met, let alone spoken to, and yes, there are certain things wife must do on her wedding nights, no matter how much it hurts her. 477Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2NJ9xNmDiz
Everything hurts. I live in a world of knives, of broken glass and shattered hearts, and if I am to make one wrong move the pain will grow to the intensity I was raised to suffer through. The world hurts, and my soul burns.
If I even have a soul, that is. I have long since questioned the idea that we all have a soul, deep down inside us. The years of cynicism, of being so pushed far down into myself that even retaining a shred of my former self is near impossible, pushed that notion into the light for me.
When everything hurts, you take something to numb the pain. You'll do anything to make the pain stop, you'll do whatever they tell you to do. You don't get to be a princess, no siree, because someone decided that your life will be one of pain, of too much reality and too much too soon. Someone decided that when you turn ten, your best friend will die, and then you'll be alone, and then when you're 17 you'll be married to a man twice your age and he will hurt you, burn you from the inside out. You'll have his children, his child, and then your other best friend will die and you'll be entirely alone. Then, a girl will come along and you'll think you're in love with her, you'll suffocate yourself in her and she'll leave. You aren't a princess, they decided that at a young age, for you. You will be a girl that is broken on the inside and outside.
Everyone always says that at some point, your life will get better. You have to trust people, they say, but then when you trust people, they'll leave you or cheat you or something to hurt you. No one stays, not with a life like the ones we all lead. You try to get good at being alone, everyone does. Being alone is a necessary aspect of the life of being in a gang, especially one like this. You have to learn how to be alone, but it's hard. When you're not around the people like us, you're alone, because it's hard enough to be apart of a gang, but...having other people is hard, too. I know that I've never had a life with people that aren't in the gang, everyone I've ever known has been in the gang. Then Josephine and Ben came along, and I met them, and life changed for me.
Forget it. I'm rambling. Rambling about everything, stupid Irene...
That's what he always says to me. Stupid Irene, dumb bitch, any variation of those words...no, nevermind about how I can run a gang, I can do anything a man can, my only power is when I'm on my knees, apparently. I never really believed that, though in this world, in this new situation I have found myself in, I suppose I might.
The house has the smell of smoke. People will wonder why, I know that for sure. I am not in the business of telling them, but I may as well tell you, I suppose. My hair is burnt, the house smells of smoke. You can make your own conclusions from that, I am sure. It was not a careless mistake.
It is nights like tonight when he burns me from the inside out. My body is not my own; the only consolation that I have is that I can still feel the pain of his kiss, the poison of his touch. He is killing me from the inside out, every touch of his is another fatal blow. One day, I will die. I do not know how, I do not know why. But one day...one day I will not be able to take it anymore, and he will have killed me. I will snap, as though I was a twig on a branch.
Inside of me, there is a small girl. A small, broken girl, who walks on her tiptoes at night, cautiously avoiding anything that may harm her anymore than she's already been. She walks on tiptoes, wishing she could have wings. She'd do anything to fly away, fly far away from here. But she is broken, and any wings she might have had in another lifetime are crumpled, broken, torn. So she weeps, weeps for a life she never had, for everything she was never able to truly experience. But the weeping doesn't solve anything, as weeping girls only get hurt worse. So she hides behind the facade of being strong, of being brave, of conquering dragons and evil men who come into your room at night and touch you, hurt you, and he wasn't supposed to do that he was supposed to be your father he was supposed to love you and that is not how fathers love their daughters that is not how young girls are supposed to be touched and it burns, it burns so badly and you just want it to end, you want everything to stop happening you don't want to feel and it is so, so bad.
I have often wished for death, though rarely for my own. When Josephine killed my father, a small part of me celebrated. When Benjamin killed my father, I celebrated. Made it known. Let, no, made everyone think that I was so power hungry as that I would celebrate the death of a parent, of both of my parents. I wasn't, hell I never even wanted to run a gang. I just wanted to get through my life, with as little problems as possible. It would've been easier, had they not died. I hate having to say that, if they died it could've been easier...but then they both died and everything was okay, somehow. Everything was fine...I wouldn't have to worry about anything, about being touched, killed, used as only a toy for them. I couldn't be a pawn, anymore, I had my own rules, I was my own person. No one could stop me from doing what I wanted, and if they stood in my way I would kill them.
There is another girl. Her name is Ruth, Ruth Woods..and her sister, Eva Flores. Ruth is a sweetheart, really she is, but...I do not know why I am always feeling so strange around her. She is gorgeous, her and her sister both..and Ruth is so kind, such an intelligent, loving soul. She won't stay for long in this line of work, she's not cut out for it. But Eva...Eva is bloodthirsty. Eva reminds me of me, before I became the way I am now. Small, angry, wishing so desperately to do something, to fix something that she'd do anything.
I miss me. I miss how I was. I miss how I genuinely used to care about things.
I must go. Goodnight
ns 15.158.61.20da2
