The Treehouse [BxB]

part 3. seventeen

PART THREE:
LONGING

December

River,

Hey, it's me. Your best friend.

Or maybe not anymore. I don't know.

It's been over two months since you ran away. I miss you. And I think about you a lot. I wonder what you're doing, where you are, if you're safe. Sometimes I imagine you sitting on a beach in the Bahamas. Sometimes I imagine you dead.

Sorry.

I'm just scared. No one knows where you are and it's terrifying.

My therapist suggested that I start writing you letters even though you'll never read them. You don't want to be found - I understand that now - but I wish you gave me an address. At least that way I'd know you were safe.

But I decided to listen to my therapist and write you letters, even though I have nowhere to send them. Maybe I'll burn them afterwards. Or maybe I'll keep them. Maybe you'll read them one day, when you come back. If you come back. I don't know. I just miss you, okay?

I keep thinking about that last night. You came to see me to wish me a happy birthday. I should have known that something was up, and I think that deep down, I did. But I didn't do anything about it and I'm sorry. I let you go and I should have convinced you to stay.

I went out for a birthday dinner with Mum and Audre that night. That Thai place we went to when we finished our GCSEs, remember? But anyway, we've spent every birthday together since we met, and it made me sad that you weren't by my side. But you were dealing with a lot of shit. You probably still are.

But when we got home that night, your parents were at our doorstep and your Mum was crying. She told us you were gone and I'll never forget the way my heart sank. It felt like the whole world had just ended. I guess that's when I realised that you were my whole world.

They asked if I knew where you had gone and I couldn't answer because I felt sick.

They said you took money from the safe in their bedroom. You left your phone but you were gone. As was a suitcase, a bunch of clothes, and your passport. I thought I was having a bad dream because how could it be real? How could you have left without saying goodbye?

But I guess you did say goodbye, didn't you? In your own way.

The police asked me a bunch of questions. I didn't know whether to tell them the truth or not. That you were raped. You were depressed. But I decided not to. I lied for you, River, like I've been doing since we were little kids. Maybe I shouldn't have this time. This was serious.

I thought you'd come back after a week or so, but you didn't. You hurt me, River. You really fucking hurt me and I kind of hate you a little bit for it. I'm on antidepressants now, because of you. I see a therapist now, because of you. Everything is really fucking shitty now, because of you.

But I like my therapist. He's nice. He doesn't make me feel so lonely in a world without you.

I applied for university. How fucked is that? You ran away and I'm going to uni. It was meant to be the other way around. It's funny how things work out sometimes.

I'll keep you updated on whether I actually get any offers. I applied to do a sociology course. I'm still not sure what I'm hoping to get out of it but I guess I'll figure it out as I go.

I keep hoping that maybe you'll be back for Christmas. Maybe you'll decide that enough is enough and it's time to come home.

I miss you so much it hurts.