Unlike every other story I’ve come across in my life, I am not going to start this at the beginning. I’m going to start this before all of this even happened. Before I knew your name. Before I became who I am. Maybe it will help you understand a little better…maybe.

The cold wind whipped through the air as Jessie and I sat against a large oak tree’s trunk. Jessie was my best friend. Do you remember her, Alex? You would always make fun of her red hair, even though you envied how comfortable she was in her own body.
Our thirteen year old selves stared at the pond in front of us. The woods behind my house served as a safe-haven for us, where we would go to talk about anything and everything. “I know what you’re thinking about,” Jessie said disapprovingly. “Stop.”
“I can’t,” I whispered staring at the water. I counted the ripples caused by a duck swimming towards the other side. 52. Jessie let out a grunt of frustration and abruptly stood. She looked down at me with stormy hazel eyes and I felt my own widen in fear. She grabbed my wrist and pulled me to my feet and I stumbled at the force. Jessie’s fingers tightened around my wrist until I was whimpering, but even then she didn’t let go.
“God fucking dammit, Hannah!” She shouted. A tear slipped from my eye, but I didn’t move. I couldn’t move. I sat paralyzed by fear created by my own best friend. The girl I knew since we were fifteen months old wasn’t the girl who was red faced and furious staring back at me. I didn’t blame her for getting so mad at the fact that I was still replaying the night before over and over again in my mind. And I suppose I should’ve.

The night before

I stared down at the lifeless, little body on the ground. Blood was still flowing out of its eye—where Jessie had bashed a rock in. I heard whimpering and Jessie’s ramblings about how she had to kill the grey bird because they told her to. It took me a minute to register that the whimpering was coming from my own mouth. Jessie paced back and forth furiously, rambling about how “they” would leave her alone now. My whimpers turned into sobs and it wasn’t until Jessie grabbed me by the shoulders that I realized she had blood splattered on the side of her face. My throat closed up as I took in my best friend’s features. Her eyes were still the same hazel, except they were wide and bloodshot. Her hair was still brown and she was still a little shorter than me. But she wasn’t the girl I knew so well. She was a monster. “Hannah,” She said shaking me. My sobs stopped almost completely but the tears kept flowing down my cheeks. “You can’t tell anyone, okay? This is our secret. Just like when we stole those brownies your mom made for your Christmas party, alright?” I looked at her suddenly feeling a bubble of anger rise up in my throat. I pushed her arms off of my shoulders.
“This isn’t anything like the fucking brownies!” I screamed. Jessie narrowed her eyes and—

And that’s it. I can’t remember it passed that point, no matter how hard I’ve tried. Dr. Armstrong says it’s because I’ve suppressed the memory. Oh, I forgot to tell you about Dr. Armstrong.

After what happened with the bird, my parents noticed a “change in my behavior” so they submitted me into therapy. Dr. Armstrong is nice and he likes the same music as you, Alex. I think you would like him. I don’t talk much in therapy and Dr. Armstrong is okay with that. He tells me that when I’m ready to talk, he would listen. I think the funny thing about that is I don’t plan on ever being ready to bear my soul to a stranger. It’s a wonder, actually, that I’m writing this for you, Alex, considering that I don’t actually like to talk at all these days.

I really wish I could tell you what happened after I screamed at Jessie, I really do. But, I can’t. Sometimes, I wonder why I didn’t tell you these things before, but then I remember why.

I don’t know if you could tell, Alex, but I hated myself those many years ago. I didn’t want you to know why I woke up screaming sometimes, or why whenever you got angry I feared you would hurt me. Even though you told me otherwise, I was paranoid you would see past the artificial smiles and realize just how pathetic I really was. How pathetic I really am. Which is what brings me to the next part of my story.

Notes

Merr, tell me if you like it. I know it's fucked up, it only gets worse ;)