Dear Patrick
Letter Thirty-Two
Wednesday, December 18, 2013
Dear Patrick,
I'd like to call this my last letter. I feel so tired but even with all this tiredness I can't deny that you need an explanation.
I don't know how or when I was taken or who it was by. I don't know where I went or for how long I stayed.
I do know some things.
Before I was taken, I was on my way to the doctor's office. It's because I felt like something was wrong. I was wrong. There was nothing wrong, there was something right- so perfectly right. I was pregnant. Pregnant. Me! Your kid, Pat. There's no one else it could be. I was three months pregnant before I had even the slightest clue that there was a living thing inside of me. I won't forgive myself for being so naïve and clueless.
I know I confused you when I talked about the little girl, Patrick. But I didn't want to give it away. I didn't want to mess up the surprise. She was my motivation, Pat. She's the reason I fought back and the reason I climbed the stairs so many times. When that guy, whoever he was, pushed me down the stairs, I fell face first. Well, it would have been face first if I hadn't bounced off the side-rail and landed straight on my stomach. I knew it when it happened. And for that reason I cried. And I cried. And I cried. And I didn't stop crying. And that dumb faggot though he hurt me when he pushed me. He must have been relieved to think I was crying because he pushed me but that wasn't why.
I cried because what I knew was going to be the most beautiful girl in the whole entire world was gone. She was dead. And I knew it from the very second I landed on the tiles.
I want to tell you how I knew she was dead for sure but I don't want to disgust you.
But after I found out that she was 100% gone, I lost every single reason to make it up those stairs. I had no reason to. I didn't care to save myself, I wanted to save her. But she was gone, so there was nothing left for me.
Adam and I never. We never had you know what ever. It's only ever been me and you- for me, at least.
Besides that, there's nothing left I owe you. There isn't anything I have to say to you anymore.
If I hadn't made my point clear before, I'll make it clear now in these short following sentences:
Don't speak to me again, ever. I, in fact, don't want to see you or ever hear of you. Don't ask me about my daughter. Don't ask your parents about me. Don't ask Adam about me. Don't think of me. Don't think of my daughter. Don't think of anything.
In other words,
Fuck you and bye, Patrick
Lana
Dear Patrick,
I'd like to call this my last letter. I feel so tired but even with all this tiredness I can't deny that you need an explanation.
I don't know how or when I was taken or who it was by. I don't know where I went or for how long I stayed.
I do know some things.
Before I was taken, I was on my way to the doctor's office. It's because I felt like something was wrong. I was wrong. There was nothing wrong, there was something right- so perfectly right. I was pregnant. Pregnant. Me! Your kid, Pat. There's no one else it could be. I was three months pregnant before I had even the slightest clue that there was a living thing inside of me. I won't forgive myself for being so naïve and clueless.
I know I confused you when I talked about the little girl, Patrick. But I didn't want to give it away. I didn't want to mess up the surprise. She was my motivation, Pat. She's the reason I fought back and the reason I climbed the stairs so many times. When that guy, whoever he was, pushed me down the stairs, I fell face first. Well, it would have been face first if I hadn't bounced off the side-rail and landed straight on my stomach. I knew it when it happened. And for that reason I cried. And I cried. And I cried. And I didn't stop crying. And that dumb faggot though he hurt me when he pushed me. He must have been relieved to think I was crying because he pushed me but that wasn't why.
I cried because what I knew was going to be the most beautiful girl in the whole entire world was gone. She was dead. And I knew it from the very second I landed on the tiles.
I want to tell you how I knew she was dead for sure but I don't want to disgust you.
But after I found out that she was 100% gone, I lost every single reason to make it up those stairs. I had no reason to. I didn't care to save myself, I wanted to save her. But she was gone, so there was nothing left for me.
Adam and I never. We never had you know what ever. It's only ever been me and you- for me, at least.
Besides that, there's nothing left I owe you. There isn't anything I have to say to you anymore.
If I hadn't made my point clear before, I'll make it clear now in these short following sentences:
Don't speak to me again, ever. I, in fact, don't want to see you or ever hear of you. Don't ask me about my daughter. Don't ask your parents about me. Don't ask Adam about me. Don't think of me. Don't think of my daughter. Don't think of anything.
In other words,
Fuck you and bye, Patrick
Lana
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2/12/15