Damsel In Distress

(6) Second Letter

Damsel in Distress:

>> Okay so sorry for deserting this story for so long. I have every intention to finish it it's just one of those stories I have to be in the right type of mood to write. Please comment and let me know if you think it's worth continuing on with. Votes are much appreciated too. xx <<

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Recap of (5)

I turn back around as he looks behind me, "his parents want his things from his locker, they might use some in memory of him at the funeral."

No.

"I know you two were good mates," the past tense stabs a knife through my chest, what he asks next digging it deeper, "can you clean out his locker? Please."

I swallow the unsettled feeling in my chest, screaming for me to say no, I can't and instead nod in agreement, not knowing how the hell I'm going to be able to do this.

*****

Chapter 6:

Song: Nothing Left To Lose: Mat Kearney

Declan POV:

I feel like I'm really going to fucking puke as I stop infront of his locker, three from the right, across the row from mine, his name taped to the front of the orange metal door.

Trevor.

Half of the paint is worn off, they must be from the 90's or some shit. The lock hangs unclasped the way he left it, I almost laugh at the memory.

"Don't you know someone can steal your shit?"

He shrugged, "if there that desperate they must need the shit more than I do."

I wanted to hate him for taking the one girl that caught my eye but that's just how she was.

Long brown hair with natural waves, piercing green eyes that made you lose your train of thought whenever you were lucky enough for them to meet yours.

Annabelle caught everyones eye, it just so happened that he was the lucky one that actually caught hers back.

I envied him for that.

Damn did I envy him with every bone in my fucking hormonal body.

Amist my thoughts I begin to remove the contents of his locker, sweaty t-shirts, workout shorts, a stash of condoms- might as well put those to good use- I'm sure he would get a kick out of that.

I never thought there was anything worse than having your best friend be in love with the girl of your fucking dreams.

But I was wrong. So damn wrong.

The worse thing is to not have that best friend anymore.

After clearing out some more dirty clothes and assortment of empty gatorade bottles I see a small white paper taped to the back of the metal frame.

I rip it off, the first thing I notice being my name written on the front in his handwriting. I would know, he's only forged my doctors signature about a twenty times.

No one needs that many damn sports check ups anyways.

My attention is diverted back to the folded piece of paper, unravelling to find a letter addressed to me.

I immediately think of Annabelle and when I had handed her the envelope, the paper inside folded the same meticulous way.

Only this time it's my name at the top. I'm the one feeling the urge to lose my manhood and release the water seeping its way to the surface.

Mate,

We had a good five months didn't we? I could fill this page with all the great pranks we've played in that apartment complex, the hours of practice you've helped kick my ass to get that goal for next game, but I'm not going to tell you any of that because we both know those memories are to great to be forgotten.

Now that the sentimental shit is out of the way- I laugh to myself as I read his words the way he would have spoke them- I want to talk to you about something a bit more serious.

Regarding Annabelle.. Declan. Promise me you'll take care of her. She is my world and I'm leaving it in your hands.

Listen when she's upset. She will need you, maybe not at first. She's stubborn but beyond the walls she will need someone to turn to. I'm asking that be you when or if she finally decides to let them down.

She may breakdown. It will be okay just, hold her tightly. She likes it when she can bury her head against your neck and have a good cry sometimes. If it breaks you a fraction of the way it breaks me I am sorry in advance. There's rewarding times but this is one you just have to take a hit for no matter how shit you feel at the time.

When she says she's okay, watch her closely. There's a good chance she will be quick to cover it up with a smile. I'm trusting you to pick out the real ones and know when to step in.

This is an important one. Make her smile and laugh again. Those are the most rewarding gifts I have received in life and I am entrusting them in you Declan. Don't let me down.

I know this may be a lot to ask but I wouldn't ask if I wasn't absolutely sure you are capable of it. Give her the love she needs. For me Declan. For her and for you.

I will miss you both and I hope you can find happiness to fill my void. Love her like you've never loved anything before. More than those hot pockets you live off of, those neon green nike socks, a morning hand job. -I chuckle to myself through my damp cheeks my eyes drifting down to the small cursive print at the bottom right of the paper-

Sincerely, Trevor

I sit down on the bench holding the letter firmly between my index and thumb. My eyes drift across again and again reading the words so they sink in a little more every time. And then I know exactly what I have to do. I fold the letter back the way it came and stuff it into my back pocket.

After standing to my feet I shuffle his things into the Adidas gym bag I found in his locker, slinging it over my shoulder. I wipe my face with the sleeve of my grey hoodie, checking to make sure my eyes show no sign of the lapse of a moment I had minutes ago.

I pull the door open, rounding the corner as my body slams into a smaller frame.

the bag slips off my shoulder and a few clothes spill out from where I left it only half zipped.

"Annabelle-"

By the time I realize it is her, her eyes have shifted to my bag on the hard tilted floor, her expression hardening as it meets mine.

"What are you doing with that?"

"Coach asked me to clean out his locker-"

"I was supposed to do that," her hands ball to fists in defense as she kneels over and frantically sweeps the clothes back into the bag.

"Look Annabelle I'm sorry if I knew you wanted to-"

"How can you take out his shit like he didn't just die yesterday Declan!" She peers up at me her hands gripping her knees desperately.

I crouch down to meet her level and help her pick up the remaining contents, "it wasn't easy, I know it only would have been harder for you." I sooth gently brushing my fingertips across her forearm.

"He's really gone isn't he Declan?" Her voice is so small of a whisper I barely recognize it and the tears that spill from her pool green eyes fucking break me like they did last night. Like Trevor said they would.

"Please don't cry-"

She only sobs harder, burying her head into her palms in the crouched position she holds.

And it's the growing ache in my chest from his absence. The tears spilling from her beautiful eyes. The sobs choking from her lips. That make me absolutely fucking sure I have to do this.

For her.

For Trevor.

And a peice of it for myself.