Love Letters to You [On Hold]

twenty.

picture of Nate to the side -->

Entry #20
November 16th, 2034

Yesterday, I couldn't sleep. Today, I can't speak.

Even when Dad tried to make a joke about something that wasn't funny, I still couldn't respond. How could I when the person I loved wasn't who he said he was?

Everything that happened between us has been a lie, hasn't it? Do I even know you at all? Do you even care about me like you say you do? No, you can't possibly care about me. If you did, then you wouldn't hide all these things from me. You wouldn't lie to me.

This afternoon, you rang the doorbell. As soon as I opened the door and saw you, I wanted to slam the door in your face - but I couldn't bring myself to. "W-what do you w-want?"

Your lips peeled back into your signature grin and you jabbed a finger into my stomach. "What do you mean? I'm here for you, silly." You stepped into the house, brushing past me and not having a single remorse about it. "Your parents home?"

My hands balled into fists as I struggled to find the words to say. Talking to you never felt so difficult before. "Why are you here?"

Your eyes roamed around the house before they finally landed on me. You tilted your head to the side, as if assessing me. "Something wrong?"

How could I begin to explain what I found out about you? You've given yourself a new identity and I don't want to know what you'll do to me for knowing about your old identity. "Nate..." It felt weird saying your name, knowing it wasn't your real name.

Your green eyes glistened with curiosity as you moved towards me and placed your hands on my shoulders. I grimaced at the contact.

"Cal, what's wrong?"

I stepped away from you. "Who are you?" I asked in a bitter voice. "Your name isn't really Nate, is it? And you're not really seventeen, are you?"

You frowned. "Cal."

"You killed people!" I yelled frantically. "I'm not talking about the soldier in the woods or your mom. I'm talking about 27 other people up north! You killed them and now the police are looking for you and now I'm really scared because you're going to kill me too for knowing this. But I have to know why you did that. Why do you kill people?"

Your posture remained composed, like you weren't bothered by my accusations. "Cal, this is stupid."

"Stupid?" I questioned as I took farther steps away from you. "This is serious! You're a murderer!" I didn't even realize that I had backed myself into the kitchen and was already reaching for one of the big knives.

You laughed with a cynical undertone. "You can't be serious."

I aimed the knife at you. "Don't come any closer. I swear, I'll call the police."

You outstretched your arms and smiled. "Be my guest."

I don't know why I chose then of all times to confront you. My parents weren't home and if you really wanted to, you could have killed me. I still don't know why you didn't.

Before I could stop you, your arms were already wrapped around me and pulling me into a hug. "Cal, calm down. We can talk about this."

I was already on the verge of tears. I never wanted to cry in front of you, because I knew that would make me seem like an emotional little kid. But in comparison to you, I am a little kid, and everything about that situation felt wrong.

I squeezed out of your hold. "Don't touch me."

You pulled your brows together. "Why not?"

I loosened my grip on the knife and placed it on the counter. "You're an adult and I'm still a kid."