Hopelessly Devoted - Bradley Will Simpson.

Letter Four.

Bradley;

Do you remember the time we went to the lake, just the two of us? We sat and fed the ducks by day and cuddled in front of the log fire by night. You had one arm wrapped around me protectively and the other brushed rebellious locks of hair from my face, proceeded by you softly kissing the bare skin where they used to reside.

Of course, nothing can be so simple as to let me live in the happiness of the past. No, reality has to dawn and the darkness overruled again. I found myself ripped from my happy place – our memories – and stood in the bleak police station, hearing high-status authorities tell us the reasons why your case is being reopened.

We don’t believe, me and the boys, that you would want us worrying like this, you’d want us to take action. As you always did, when you could. The time the four of you were playing football and it got kicked over into someone’s garden. With no regard for anything, you dive-bombed over the wall and retrieved it. Improving the situation, as you always did. As you still do.

I’m struggling to cope with this, even now. Every day I’m leaning more and more towards Connor’s argument that you’re on a ‘long vacation’ rather than gone from our lives completely. Further away from James and Tristan’s rational thinking, it’s easier to cope this way. Believing you’ll still come back to me, and I can run into your arms, just like I used to.

People are starting think I’m in denial. Hallucinating. Simply because I choose to keep you close to me. Is there anything wrong with that, my dear Bradley? Is there really? I write you these letters in the hopes you realise how I am. How we are.

People are starting to think I’m losing my sanity. I’ve had countless leaflets on how to cope with loss and grief, the boys even suggested me going to counselling and therapy. When in reality, my love, they’re in need of it just as much as me.

My most common location is now where we used to lay, our picture clutched in my grasp, tears falling in a never-ending trail onto your pillow. One of your shirts remains under your pillow, the way you used to like it. One of my hats lays there too, the way you used to like it, the way you said you always wanted to be with me, even just by association. Your favourite beanie lays under my own soddened pillow, as you used to want. You always wanted me to have a part of you wherever I went, and wanted me to have dreams about you, about us, and stay in the little bubble of complete bliss I was always in around you.

Do you remember the time we went sightseeing? We visited every landmark we could in our own little country, and at each one you told me a reason why you’d love me forever. Ranging from my eyes to our kisses, every word that escaped your lips made me feel on top of the world, with no chance of coming back down. You, my love, you were right there with me, because without you, I would be nothing. Nothing at all. An insignificance, a danger to society.

But you, my darling Bradley, you made me whole again.

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