In writing, I guess he assumes I can't stop him. He tells me what happened and then goes on to talk about the four men whose lives were lost.

I set the letter aside a few times, because I can't read through my tears. I don't know how he can write this horrible event the way he does - with even less emotion than the first two pages.

When I finally make it through, I turn over the fourth page, expecting more of the same storytelling. Instead, there's only one paragraph more.

Katya, your letter destroyed me. It served its purpose in a way, because I started counseling the day after I received it. There have been so many times I wanted to reach out to you, but I chose not to. It doesn't mean that I don't feel what you do or that I don't think about your brother's death every day. If I could take Mikael's place that night and spare you your pain, I would gladly do it. If I could make your pain go away, I would. But I can't. All I can say is that I'm sorry and I hope you one day find peace. It won't happen with me in your life, so I'll wish you well and will remove myself from your life.

Take care,

Sawyer

I set the letter down and stare at the blue sky visible out my bay window. I'm crushed and frozen and so confused by the emotions, I don't know how to react.

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Sawyer Mathis wants nothing to do with me. I expected that, but to see it written … to know I hurt him enough to drive him off …

I do that to so many people. I didn't realize until now that I didn't want him to be one of them.

As usual, I've reacted without thinking about the consequences. His farewell cuts so deep, I can't cry. I don't know why it hurts, not when I've been alternating between wanting to hate him and hoping he comes to the Christmas party. Before I left camp, we were on the verge of something I instinctively know could only have one of two outcomes: ecstasy or devastation.

There can be nothing in-between, not with how deep we both dive into one another. Is this how whatever it is between us ends?

Definitely not ecstasy.

I fold the letter carefully and replace it in its envelope then put it in my desk. The jewelry box with the Ruptured Duck is on top of my desk, and I pick it up once more. I've debated sending it to him every day since I got it.




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