To: yikes!izzy
Date: Thursday, February 23—4:43 PM
Subject: Re:
Dear Isabel,
I’m home now. I was so excited to turn on my computer and write to you about what a great time I had on my trip. But now there’s this. There are pages and pages of your fear and pain and paranoia for me to sift through and try to answer.
Isabel, you’re scaring me. This isn’t just part of your lovable eccentricity anymore. Something is really wrong, and I don’t know how to help you. Maybe your sister went about it the wrong way, but she really was trying to help. She’s not the enemy and neither are your parents. They may not understand you, but they love you the only way they know how.
Fuck, I feel like whatever I’m going to say is going to piss you off. Anything I want to tell you is going to be taken the wrong way and you’re going to make me a villain like you’ve done to everyone else. I love you, Isabel. So please hold on to that when I tell you I think you need help. Professional help. Whatever’s going on is too big for us to handle. It is bigger than me and your sister and your parents. It’s bigger than school and Trevor and your art. It is bigger than you, Isabel. It is so much bigger than you.
Don’t listen to her. Don’t give yourself to whatever sickness is posing as your evil twin. The softness of her voice is all part of the trick. Please. Try to believe me. And please don’t hate me for wanting to help you.
Isabel, I want to talk to my mom about this. I want her to talk to your parents. Will you let me do this for you? It seems so wrong to be asking your permission to save you. But I know how you are, and I know you would never forgive me if I contacted your parents behind your back. Fuck, Isabel. Look at the kind of choices you’re forcing me to make.
All of my love,
Connor