Games of Power and Prowess

Epilogue

My dearest Allison,

No, I am not going to kill myself. I want to give you something before you go but I can't seem to find anything that truly expresses how I feel for you. So here we are, it's currently 3 AM, surprisingly I am not drunk, and I am pouring my heart out onto this parchment so that hopefully you will read this in years to come and think of all the joy we brought each other.

I wish more than anything that I wouldn't have to write this in the first place but that is not the case. I wish that you and I could wake up every morning next to each other and I could tell you how much I love you in person instead of your sweet heart breaking every time you see this envelope in your new room. Or perhaps you'll destroy it after you read it. Who knows. I wish that things had gone differently. That we had been more careful right from the start. You probably shouldn't have stayed at my house as many times as you did but I couldn't bare to leave you alone in that house without someone to care for you. You've lived that life long enough and I wanted so badly to bring about a good change in your life. Now look what I've done.

Ugh, enough about the past. I want to talk about the future now. Specifically your future. I knew right from the beginning, when we first met and I saw that innocent sparkle in your eye, that you were going to do great things ‒ I wanted so badly to be part of that with you but I suppose it isn't meant to be, at least for now ‒ so I don't want you to sit alone in your room, wallowing in sorrow for the rest of your days. I saw in your future a wonderful home, one that always smells like cinnamon and nutmeg. You'd wake up next to your beautiful wife, whom you love with so much passion that it hurts. Your kids would come storming in, demanding pancakes for breakfast. Of course you would always make an extra pancake for the dog waiting patiently on the floor. Your wife would kiss you goodbye as you walk out the door to take your children to school and then you'd go off to your amazing job, one where you're probably the boss (you're a natural born leader, you know). Maybe I will be your wife in that fantasy. Maybe I won't.

All I know is that this is far from a goodbye. I feel in my heart that you and I will meet again someday. I don't know when, or under what circumstances. Maybe I'll see you on television one day and be reminded of the girl that I loved so fiercely that I would do anything for her. Or maybe you'll invite me to your wedding. I have to admit I'd be jealous seeing another woman kiss your peppermint lips. You and I, Ally, are soulmates. I don't think I understood what that meant before I met you. I was about your age when Caroline and I met, my wide-eyed, fresh-out-of-high-school face, singled out of the campus crowd in her seasoned gaze. She wasn't 10 years older than me but she very well could have been. I thought she was my soulmate, that nothing else in the world could make me feel like she did. When she died it really felt like I had experienced absolutely everything the world had to offer and nothing would compare those few years with her. Boy, was I wrong.

Oh, I could write a whole novel about how much a care for a young girl named Allison Grange, told from the perspective of her former lover who let the bright girl slip between her fingers. You must believe that I would do anything to see your happy, even now, even 12 years from now. You deserve happiness in this world, Allison, above anything else. Never forget that.

I love you,

Natalie

I wipe the tear from my face, slowly getting up from my bed as I look around this still unfamiliar bedroom. I keep expecting to wake up from this nightmare but it's been weeks since I've talked to anyone from that miserable place.

On the shelf next to my bed, I place the envelope containing the letter given to me by Natalie next to a framed photo of her and I; one I stole from the pile given to my mother. The shelf also holds the ring she gave me and a single book. Delirium.

My mum thinks I should put all of it in a box and ignore it; move on with my life. But she doesn't know the first thing about love. Even if I were to place all the physical reminders in a cardboard prison, I'd still have all the nonphysical reminders. A whiff of her perfume, the dreams that still haunt my sleep, the memories that fill my mind every waking moment.

I really did love her.

Scratch that, I really do love her.