Page 119 of Bad For A Weekend

I start with the one on top:

Baylor,

I have so much I want to tell you, but since that’s not possible right now, my therapist recommended I write you letters I never intend to send to get it all out of my head. It sounds like a dumb idea, but I’m doing it anyway, just to appease her.

You should know I didn’t want to walk away from you. At first, I did it because I thought you deserved better. Now I think it was so I could get right in my head and get to a place where I could feel good about my role in your life.

The way we started things was shrouded in lies and secrets. It was wrong, and I knew it was wrong because we had to hide. You don’t deserve the shadows, and until I can get to a place where we can be in the sunshine, I have to keep my distance.

You own me,

Owen

A letter dated a week later gives me pause.

Baylor,

I tried to stay away, but I’m only a man and my willpower is weak. After work, I sat in the parking lot of your building for hours. I thought maybe you were already inside, but right before I was going to leave, you drove up. My legs itched to run to you, and my heart was lurching from my chest. You turned and looked right at my car. I thought I was caught, but then you went inside.

I’d like to say this will be the last time but ever since the first day I was hired to protect you, my instinct to keep you safe kicked in. Even though I’m no longer working for you, my job to keep you safe will never be over.

You own me,

Owen

He’s been watching me. I wonder if that was him I saw today. It should disturb me, but it just makes me feel like he never really left. He was here the whole time. And that warms me to my core.

Midway through the letters, I come across one that marked the fifth anniversary of the shooting.

Baylor,

It’s been five years since my life changed forever. I’ve spent the day reliving every painful detail over and over in my head. I think about the events that led up to it, the moments after, and everything in between.

There was an article written to commemorate the day. I knew it was being written because they called me for an interview. I didn’t return the call. I don’t want the attention things like that bring. But I did read it, and it was healing to see how some of the surviving victims are thriving.

Each of them praised what I did and said they wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for me. Little do they know, if I had seen the signs, they wouldn’t have gone through that at all.

I wish you were here to talk it out with me. I’d take you to The Grove, and you’d hold my hand, listening before telling me I’m an idiot. God, I miss your sharp tongue and quick wit. I wonder if you think about me too and if you remember the good times as much as the times I hurt you.

You own me,

Owen

A tear falls from my cheek and lands on the paper, smearing the ink.

“Shit.” I dry my face with the sleeve of my robe and keep reading, pausing when I reach one with a significant date for me. I know exactly what this one will say, but I read it anyway.

Baylor,

I’ve been watching the trial for Will Story online. I want you to know how proud I was when you got up and spoke about what you went through. It couldn’t have been easy, and I wish I could’ve been there to support you.

I was cheering right along with you and your dad when the judge announced he’d serve life without the chance of parole. You never have to worry about him again. Knowing you’re free from all that gives me such a sense of relief, and I hope it does for you too.

You own me,

Owen

The memories of that day come back to me. I was shaking like a leaf when I read my victim statement, knowing that man was only feet away. He didn’t look at me, just stared at his hands. Months later, his brother was sentenced to fifteen years.

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