Letter #5

Delia—

Cal knew.

I don’t know how to make those two words smaller.

He knew you were alive. He knew I was mourning someone who was still breathing. He let me build a whole childhood around your grave and called it protection.

I want to hate him but I don’t know how.

That makes me angrier.

Did you know about him? Did you know I had someone? Did they tell you I was safe? Did that make it better or worse?

I hate how many questions I have for you.

I hate that you might actually have answers when I’m still so confused.

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