To: yikes!izzy
Date: Saturday, February 25—3:03 PM
Subject:
Dear Isabel,
I just talked to your mom. She said you ran away. She’s really scared, Isabel. She was crying. Are you happy now? You’ve made your point. You’ve forced everyone to admit how much you mean to them. Now we’re all regretting all the bad things we’ve ever done to you. You have all the power now. Is that what you wanted?
The police said they won’t look for you because you’re eighteen. So I guess you’re free now. How does it feel? Is it everything you ever dreamed about? Is it liberating to drive around in a car that will eventually run out of gas, with no job and nowhere to go? Your parents put a freeze on your bank card, so you can’t get too far. I’m sorry if I sound a little harsh, but I guess there’s some anger mixed up in all this sadness and fear. I’m angry that you’re gone. I’m angry that you never let me help you. I’m angry that you waited to tell me you loved me at the same time you promised I’d never see you again.
Come back, Isabel. You’re not going to get in trouble. What’s going on is not your fault. You’re sick and you need help. My mom knows a really great place you can go where they can help you so you don’t have to feel like this anymore. Isn’t that what you want? Don’t you want to feel normal again?
Fuck, I don’t even know if this is helping. Maybe everything I write is just pissing you off even more and pushing you further and further away. I don’t know what to do. My mom keeps saying it’s not my fault you ran away, but a part of me can’t believe her. Maybe if I had checked my email during my trip, maybe if I had written you back sooner, maybe this wouldn’t have gone so far. She says I have no control over whatever’s happening inside you, whatever chemicals are misfiring in your brain, and logically I know that’s true. But somehow I feel like I should have been able to reach inside you and massage you back to normal. Somehow, by sheer willpower and love, I should have been able to bring you back to reality. Mom says I need to let go and accept what’s happening, but I can’t give up thinking that maybe I could have helped you by just loving you enough.
It sounds ridiculous, I know. But there’s always been a piece of you you’ve never let me see, a dark place you’ve never let me in, and I can’t help but think there’s a solution there, an answer to this riddle, some sort of truth in that unknown place where I’ve never had access. Maybe you were trying to protect me by never letting me see it. Maybe you were trying to keep me away from things that would convince me you weren’t the perfect girl you thought I wanted you to be. But you never asked me what I wanted, Isabel. You never heard me tell you that I want everything, not just the perfect pieces, not just the sparkling, charming snapshots of you. You never let me tell you that I want every piece of you, even the broken ones, even the dark places where scary things hide.
Love,
Connor