It started with a letter (JenLisa AU) COMPLETED

Chapter 1: The Letters in the Library

A/N: So before you read this I just want to give you same notes so that when you encounter these words you will know who is who since I will not start naming them until later. (Yes I read comments).

The girl with dark brown hair is The Letter Writer
The girl with raven black hair is The Reader
The girl with black-colored cat-like eyes is The Letter Writer
The girl with black doe eyes is The Reader
The girl with porcelain skin is The Letter Writter
The girl with pale skin is The Reader

I don't know why I'm doing this.

I honestly don't.

I saw it in a movie (it was a sad movie. Never make a movie about a dying old man and a dying child with cancer together. It makes for a terrible ending) and so I thought. Why not? Why not do something I normally wouldn't do? What's the point in living if you don't do something unexpected? After all, you never know when it will be your last day. After all you never know when you'll be missing the opportunity of a lifetime.

My step-mother says that I spend too much time in my books. I read a lot and she says it's unhealthy, imagine that a person actually thinking it's unhealthy to read. But she does. She thinks it's unhealthy for me to dream so much. But I'd rather live in a world where I choose who I want to be. Why be someone boring when you could be a hero, or a side kick or, god forbid, the damsel in distress, or even a villain. (Thought I am a firm believer that not all villains are bad. I mean just look at Snape from Harry Potter. Everyone loves him).

I don't know if I'll actually do it. Maybe I'll actually do it. Maybe I'll actually try and create my own fairy tale. Maybe I'll finally see some relief from this storm, I used to be terrified of storms, so much so that I'd hide underneath my sheets and cry until it was over. Now it's so normal in my life that I'm not afraid, just tired. Maybe I won't be tired anymore.

Maybe.

I seem to use that word a lot. Maybe I'll try and go through with my dreams. It is only high school after all. I won't always have to live with these expectations. There's a whole new door after I walk across the stage and accept that diploma. I can't wait to throw my hat in the air and get out of this prison. That's all school is after all. Most of the people who know me would laugh at me saying that. You would probably laugh to. In fact you're probably laughing right now.

So if you find this I guess I was brave enough. And you'll have to bear with me or maybe you'll throw this letter away and not read it. I hope you read it. I hope I'm not wasting all of this pen and ink.

So if you're reading this: persevere. Don't let go. If you don't then I promise I won't.

Word for the Wise: We all will hit the floor one time or another, our skin bit cold by metal. We'll all be bruised and broken, battered and beaten. But it's when we try to rise again, that is when we find our courage. (This is my quote by the way. But I give you permission to use it. Maybe you'll become famous by it. That would be wonderful).

The girl with the long dark brown hair pulled up in a ponytail stood in front of the large bookshelf, holding the letter so tight in her hand that it was beginning to crumple. She rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet, trying to decide which book.

This was part of the fun. Trying to decide which book was the right one.

In the end she decided on a book about the Revolutionary War. She felt a bit like she was rebelling against something even though she didn't know what quite yet. She pulled the thick book out and shoved the letter in and turned on her heels before she had the opportunity to swipe it out of the pages and throw it away.