Ronan,
I’ve never written a letter in my life, but you broke my patterns for everything, so what does adding writing a letter to the mix matter? Right?
I’m trying to throw a joke in there, but that probably didn’t come through. As you know, I’m kind of socially awkward.
You said in your text you wished I trusted you enough to let you see my pain. It’s not that I don’t trust you, because I do. It’s weird, but if you stood at the bottom of a cliff, I would fall over with my eyes closed. Do you know why? Because I know you’d catch me.
I know you’d never let me hit the ground or rock bottom or any of that.
The reason I couldn’t come forward as you did isn’t that I don’t trust you; it’s that I don’t trust myself.
I’m a fraud, Ronan. I didn’t get engaged to you because of Dad’s company, although that did play a part. I got engaged to you for other reasons, and all of them have to do with the pain I refuse to let others see.
Pain is weakness, and I hate thinking about or reliving the last time I was weak.
But now, I will, because I hope by the time you finish reading this letter, you’ll be able to understand that not all people deal with pain the same way.
You came out. I hid.
For me, the pain started when I was born as a prostitute’s daughter. Knox and I begged to go to school, but she barely let us. All our mum cared about was drugs and money to get those drugs.
She opened her legs for anyone as long as she got her next shot of heroin. She didn’t care that we heard everything or that we hid so we never got in the way of the men who left her room.
Over time, she got clients who weren’t interested in her cunt, but in seeing her children naked.
Or rather one client.
He came in the dark when we were asleep and made us strip. When Knox cried, she hit him and said either we do as instructed or we wouldn’t go to school.
So we did.
We removed our clothes and stood in the dark as that man was making those sounds of masturbation.
Of course, I was clueless to that fact back then. I was so naive that I told Knox maybe he was in pain. My brother told me to shut up because he understood what was going on before I could. His innocence was stolen away before mine.
Then, that client disappeared, and that was that. I thought it was all over.
It wasn’t.
One night, I was asleep and I felt something wet and hot on my clothes.
In the morning, I went crying to Mum, begging her to help me. She just washed me and told me to stay still and not cry. If I cried, she’d throw me and Knox out for that man to take with him.
I stopped crying that day.
I haven’t cried since.
The second night, his filth was all over my bare skin.
Then it was on my face.
I didn’t ever speak during those nights. I stayed still until he finished. I stayed still until I felt his hot liquid, because that meant it was over.
Knox found me one night when the man was sneaking over to where I slept. He hit him on the head, took me by the hand, and we ran.
We didn’t stop running in the streets.
We were running so neither Mum nor that man nor the people who worked with her could find us.
I didn’t cry, though, not even when Elsa’s mother trapped us in her basement. At least she didn’t touch us, and when she did, it was once when she cut our knees so we resembled her son.
At least, in that basement, we were away from Mum and that man.
But you know what? I might have been away, but I was never far.
The man and his hot liquid kind of lived with me. I dreamt about it, had nightmares about it, and in every one of them, I couldn’t move.
I stayed completely still, just like Mum ordered me to.
All I could think about was his voice when he spoke to Mum and gave her money.
I always peeked out of my room, trying to see his face. Mum smiled like the fucking druggie she was whenever she saw him. He was an important man and he didn’t speak like the people in Birmingham. He spoke like an actor.
After Ethan took me and Knox in, I made it my mission to find that man from my nightmares. The man who perched on my chest every time I slept.
I searched for him everywhere, but I was too clueless and too young; I didn’t know what I was doing.
I also had no idea what I would tell him if I found him. All I knew was that I needed to see him, and when I did, I’d figure out what I would tell him.
I did find him.
And I did know what I wanted to tell him.
Only it wasn’t words. The moment I saw him, I knew exactly what I’d do to him.
I’d kill him.
It was that simple.
He held me a prisoner all my life. I couldn’t break free, not even with the therapists or in a family setting or anything.
I never told this to anyone, but you might as well be the first to know it. The little girl who was violated over and over again never left me. Her shadow is currently perching on my shoulder, telling me to set her free, and I know I won’t be able to do that unless I kill him.
That girl cries all the time, her eyes hollow and haunting, but I can’t even cry. She can’t speak, but I can. She can’t help herself, but I will.
It’s my duty. It’s why I grew up. Why I ran. Why I exist.
It was so simple.
But then you came along, and I thought maybe I could exist for something else. Maybe I could be with you and let you in.
I want to.
You don’t know how much I want to, Ronan. I’ve never felt as alive as when I’m with you. I never woke up and felt happiness until I realised you were by my side.
You’re the only one who gave another meaning to my life aside from revenge. You set me on fire, and you didn’t run away from the ashes. You kissed me and didn’t want to leave me.
I don’t deserve that.
You’re the light despite the darkness. You’re the hope despite the black dots. You’re strong despite the weakness.
You didn’t let that man take your life. I let him take mine.
The thing is, we met under the wrong circumstances, Ronan.
I didn’t approach you for you. I approached you for your family name.
I approached you because you’re the son of the man I decided to kill.
Your father took my life, and now I’m taking his.
I feel so sorry for you and Charlotte and even Lars, but I can’t live in a world where scum like Edric Astor exists.
I know you will never forgive me, but I hope you find it in you to understand me.
What I feel for you is more than love. It’s something overpowering, but also empowering. It’s believing I can be normal even when I don’t know what normal is. It’s smiling and laughing out loud without even realising it.
I wish we’d met under different circumstances and with different names.
I wish I could wake up to your face every day.
If there’s a next life, let’s meet there, okay?
Goodbye,
Teal
