Page 9 of Our Secrets and Scars

I’ve spent the last couple of days debating whether or not to write to you again, but I guess I just couldn’t help myself. The thing is, I’ve kind of convinced myself that I freaked you out with the things I said in my last letter. That maybe I said too much. Crossed a line.

We’ve never talked that way before. And, I don’t know, maybe I misread the signs. Maybe I imagined something between us or thought there was something there when there wasn’t anything at all.

God, I’m so sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable. I really am. It makes me sick to think I’ve made you feel that way. If I could take the words back, I would, but it wouldn’t make them any less true. They’re out there now, so I guess I’ve just got to hope and pray that I haven’t scared you away.

Just let me know you’re okay, yeah?

We can deal with the rest another time if that’s what you need. But please, Fletcher. Please, just let me know you’re okay.

Love, Kinsley

RETURN ADDRESS

Kinsley Garcia

1152 Llamarada Blvd.

Twin Falls, ID 83301

Dear Fletcher,

It’s been weeks since I last heard from you. Almost a month, actually, and the silence is driving me insane.

For four years, you’ve been my lifeline, and without your letters, I feel like I can’t breathe. I feel like something huge is missing from my life, like I’ve lost a body part or a family member has died. I know that sounds dramatic, but it’s true.

I googled it, you know? I googled prison fights nationwide. It took me hours to scroll through all the articles because, my God, there have been a lot of incidents in the last few weeks. But none that have included a man with your name.

And fuck, I was so relieved. To know that you’re not hurt, that you’re safe, it was everything I was praying for. But it was bittersweet. Because that discovery meant I had to face the facts that I’ve been trying to ignore for the better part of a month now.

I went too far; I said too much, and I ruined us.

For that, Fletcher, I’ll be eternally sorry.

But I want you to know that I never expected anything from you. When I said what I did, there was no motive behind it other than telling you the truth. Because you’ve always had the ability to pull my secrets from me, and this was just another one of those times. Guess this secret was a little too big. I should have buried it deeper and resisted harder when the pen began to spill it across the paper.

I don’t take it back though, because I’d be lying if I said I didn’t mean it. But I wish I’d never told you. Maybe things would be different then.

I’m off to college in a couple of weeks, and my parents are going away for a while too, so I won’t know if you send something here. I’m gonna give you my new address at the bottom of this letter in the futile hope that one day, you’ll write to me again. I just need you back in my life, Fletcher, in whatever capacity I can have you.

Truth is, you’re the very best friend I’ve ever had. And I’m not the same without you.

I’ll be waiting for your letter.

Love, Kinsley.

One

Kinsley

SeptemberinSaltLakeCity is warmer than it was where I grew up in Twin Falls, Idaho. Not by much, a degree or so, maybe, but enough that I have a light sprinkle of sweat on my forehead where I would usually have none. It’s the kind of day that starts gray and makes you wonder if you’ll need a jacket, but by noon you’re dreaming about swimming pools and fresh lemonade on ice.

I wipe away the droplets with the back of my hand and sigh as I look up at the domineering brownstone of The University of Utah. The late summer sun hammers down, and I shield my eyes with my hand. Sucking in a long breath, I steel myself, raising my chin and pushing my shoulders back, before taking the short walk to the entrance and finding my way to my first class of the day.

Though I’ve been attending classes for a couple of weeks now, nerves still stir in my stomach as if it was my first day. After the bullying I faced in high school over my facial scarring, I still expect people to turn and stare when I walk into a room or snicker to themselves as they pass me in the halls. Neither has happened yet.

In fact, I’m not sure anyone has noticed my burns at all.

And yeah, I spend an hour every morning applying my makeup so precisely that they’d be difficult to spot at first glance, but the texture is noticeable if you were to look closely enough.

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