Letters.. (Alevi FanFiction) DISCONTINUED

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄

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Before she knew it, the school day flashed right before her eyes. Probably due to the letter sharing between her and her admirer.

Because she couldn't bare to interact with the people she called 'friends' currently, she resorted to her admirer for company. Even if it was through notes being swapped, she dearly enjoyed his invisible presence with her.

She even got to know him a bit, but something still felt off about the pace this water stream was heading.

The blonde knew so much about him, but at the same time so little. She knew from what was his favourite food to which place he'd preferred to pass away. But even if she knew this information, she knew not a spec on how he looked like nor his name.

That's why for now, she labled him as "Hayranı". The meaning being admirer in Turkish, a language she tended to do outside of school.

So that's what she dealt with. This is the little things she had about him. Yet, she cherished them gratefully because he was someone like her. Some sort of light at the dark end of a tunel. Even if he was just a crevice of it.

Atleast, that's what she got imputed into her mind.

For all she knew, her secret admirer was her ideal partner. It was too good to be true. From his likes to dislikes, she matched up with him perfectly. It was almost as if she found the final piece of a puzzle that she'd thought she'd never complete.

But, that was the canvas painted for her. A canvas so beautiful and ideal that it enhanced her away from the painter. And as we all know, the painter doesn't always identify identically to the painting.

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In what seemed like half of her life gone to waste. She finally arrived at her house. Yet, that was all the place was to her. Not home, a house.

Her relationship with her father wasn't the best. It was almost always awkward in some way. But she couldn't tell why. Only when she grew older she realized the "love" her and her father had was more artificial than anything.

It was more of an obligation for her father to express some type of love towards the girl. She was his daughter after all. And it was the same way with Alex. It was a duty to love her father due to him having the role of said father.

They tolerated eachother at most, and that was it.

It wasn't the same case with her mother, she seemed to have always been at work and too busy for basic human needs. Including taking care of her daughter, so she depended on her husband to be affectionate to her.

Like if that was turning out great.

Before she could storm upstairs to her little piece of paradise she had, she was interrupted by a sudden voice that came from the kitchen.

"Oh! Honey, how was your day at school?" Her father inquired, a facade of care laced in his voice.

Taking a deep breath and letting it back out, she dropped, "Not too good. Got bad news. But it'll probably be on the news so look there if you have to."

Her father was about add something but before he could get a stutter out, she hurriedly progressed her way upstairs.

Once she took that single, glorious, step into her room, it was like an old time detective show background music started to play on cue.

She carelessly chucked her backpack over to her bed and began her scavenger hunt for the letters of her admirer that she indecently stuffed in her bag last minute. It wasn't like it really mattered though, unless it was completely illegible to understand due to it being to wrinkled, or worse, teared.

Nice. New worry unlocked.

She managed to fish down her almost bottomless abyss of a bag and yank out the holy notes. That were, thankfully, not torn. Though the wrinkles were still very prominent, it could've been easily smoothed out.

And now that her key components were obtained, her investigation could've finally commence.

She trudged over to her desk, plopping down on the ever so uncomfortable wooden chair (That she probably would try and replace in the future.) and firmly slammed the papers on the desk.

Determination ran through her veins more than they ever had before. Perhaps because she was finally challenged by a worthy opponent to her duel of being a detective. Well, not as an occupation. More as a hobby.

And not like she was getting paid for jack shit.

She pulled over her nearby lamp that she usually tended to use as of perfect, rare occasions like this. Occasions of thrill and excitement over anything she could sink her skills into. And here it is.

Flipping on the light of the lamp, her eyes darted and skanned for any type of clues in the letter. Ranging from anytype of signature, stamp, maybe a piece of hair that god knew what laboratory she'd do a DNA test in. Anything.

A beam of hope struck through her back after she skimmed over to the next paper and saw what she swore to be a signature. Instead, she was looking at something more ominous and slightly frightening because of the current events that took place.

A single droplet of blood.

Now, Alex wasn't an idiot. She could do simple Math just fine. And right now the gears in her head were finally being put to use.

Who did the blood originate from? Why was it caused? How was it caused? Where was it caused? And could it have been matched up with the murder that took place.

Finally, the blonde came up with her all mighty, max brain powered, situation changing conclusion.

"Eh, probably just a paper cut."