Letters to Elle

10 | Digging My Own Grave

                        TEN

                        DIGGING MY OWN GRAVE

                                    ♡ ♡ ♡

Fast friends is what I’d call Marnie and I. It took less than a day for us to latch onto each other and start talking constantly. Feeling like I was starting over with my relationships was definitely something that I needed, and Marnie provided that for me.

            “You seem sad,” she says after five days of us talking.

            I laugh dryly. “You don’t even know the start of it.”

            Marnie hods her head. “Yeah, I heard about that girl. Elle. She was your friend, wasn’t she?”

            Blinking back tears, I try not to get too emotional on the girl. I’ve only known her for five days and scaring her away isn’t high on my to do list. “Best,” I tell her. “We’re best friends.”

            Marnie’s eyebrows raise slightly. “Were.”

            “Yeah. Were.”

            “Sorry, dear, but she’s dead now. Can’t be best friends with a dead person.”

            And maybe it’s just the brutal truth of the matter, but Marnie’s way of just telling it how it is makes me feel better. It makes me feel like I’m finally sort of moving past that dark patch in my life. Having Marnie as a friend can prove to be a good thing; it can prove to be exactly what I need.

                                    ♡ ♡ ♡

Marnie and I find ourselves spending every moment with each other except for the times that we have to go to sleep. She’s even spent the night at my house on a number of times. Of course, I have to get up earlier than her and “check the mail” before she wakes up. Then again, I had to do that before she spent the night.

            By “check the mail”, I mean check the front doorstep for a creepy letter that may suggest Elle was either (a) in danger before she died, (b) still alive right now and wanting me to find out who threatened her last year, or (c) all of the above.

            Surprisingly, I haven’t gotten any letters at all in the past week. Actually, nothing creepy or out the ordinary has happened in the past week since that time Cara and I were in the graveyard.

            And speaking of Cara, the last time I talked to the girl was when we were at the café together. We’ve barely spoken more than two words to each other. The only times we’ve exchanged words was when we were forced to because we were around friends.

            To be fair, she’d tried to reach out to me a number of times, but I just didn’t respond to her.

            I feel bad for ignoring her, but I think it’s for the best. She’s trying to get herself into a situation that she won’t be able to get out of. I’m helping her. I’m protecting her.

            “Hey, Wave,” Marnie says, grabbing my attention. We’re in my room, looking at magazines. Such a typical girl thing for me to do considering my current situation.

            “Yeah?” I respond.

            “How come we don’t eat with your friends at lunch anymore? Do you not like them or something? Do they not like me? Do they not like you?”