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Elaina Basset

Dear Mom,

I'm not sure what I'm doing...writing this to you knowing you'll never see it. I'm trying this out, seeing if it'll help me to not bottle up all of these big emotions I'm feeling.

I don't know. I guess I just need some sort of...outlet. Things haven't been okay. I left to chase normalcy and it feels like I've only gotten further away from that.

Denver was my personal hell after what happened. I thought that traveling across the world would get me out but it hasn't.

My painting is the one thing I'm holding on to. I'm getting really good. If you could see what I've done, you'd be so proud of me.

I want to be great, mom. Like you always said I would be. But I'm scared. I don't know if I'm capable of greatness. I'm scared that I'm capable of worse things.

I'm stuck in a situation that I don't know how to get out of. You have no idea what I'd do to hear your advice right now.

I miss you.

I miss watching you draw. I miss the sounds of your pencil on the paper. I miss the smell of charcoal.

We'll be reunited one day.

I love you.

-El.



I've barely slept.

It's Saturday morning, the sun has risen and all I've been doing is watching it through my peeled open eyelids on Angela's couch.

With my notebook and pencil that Zayn brought over with my other things laid out in front of me, my mind reels.

A gang.

That's what they're all involved in. They chose to join this life of criminal activity for some extra cash. It sounds absolutely unreal—like something from an action movie. But here I am, living it.

Last night while smoking with Angela, I asked to see her tattoo. She has it in a different spot than Zayn. Hers is along her rib cage, right under her breast. I remember her pulling up her shirt to reveal to me the small monarch butterfly tattoo.

The tattoo itself is pretty. What it stands for isn't.

I'm trying to wrap my mind around the fact that crime is like a second nature for these people...and now I have to help.

Whenever my head drifts to that idea, I feel nauseous. Not only does it go against every one of my morals, it could also wind me up in jail and destroy every dream and goal I've ever had.

But, being locked away in hiding isn't what I want either. Angela told me that hiding me away would involve me never leaving my 'hideout' and also starting work on changing my identity.

Somehow, I've been trying to find the positives to what's going on. There's not many. Sure, I'll gain a few self defence skills and maybe learn how to break into a museum here and there. Really, there isn't anything beneficial about this for me. I don't care about the money, as much as I need it. Compensation is not something I want if I'm earning it illegally.

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