(Remember that this book will contain themes of sexual assault. Please take care and stay safe when reading.)

CHAPTER FOUR:
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"There's a name for boys like you"- dodie

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So, here we are. I'm finally ready to accept what you did and what happened after that. I'm finally ready to move on with my life.

My life without you.

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First on Carrie's to-do list was to burn the pieces which she had gingerly picked out. The second was to lock the remaining items away in a drawer and send the key to Sammi so that she was unable to see them until she was ready to, Sammi would know when that was. The third thing was to call her counsellor and make another appointment so that they could review how she was feeling after destroying some beloved items. The fourth and final thing was to find out Jack's address from a past classmate and send him the letter- he had to read it.

Thus, Carrie began to execute the first task on her to-do list by taking a metal bin outside, before shoving the items into the bin. Another cliché, she thought. She bit her lip while staring down into the bin as she lit a match and threw it in, observing as the formerly important photos and letters began to curl at the corners as they burned. Jack's face soon started to ignite and turn black as the picture began to blaze. A soft crackling started as the paper was set alight, becoming rather soothing. It sounded like a log-burner warming the house on a brisk, wintry day as a family would crowd around it, keeping themselves warm.

The light from the flames began to dance on her face and reflected in her glossy eyes as she stood and watched until it was all rendered down to ash.

They were gone.

He was gone.

The burden resting heavily on her shoulders grew lighter as she destroyed some more of that string which bound them together in knots. Eventually, those knots came undone, leaving their affiliation hanging by a thread; a thread which she was unsure if she wanted to sever entirely.

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"Hey Sam, it's Care."

"Hey Care, everything okay?"

"Yeah things are fine, I just have a favour to ask."

The second thing on the list was to lock all of the remaining items up in a drawer and send the key to Sammi to have her keep it until she thought Carrie was ready to look at it all again. So, Carrie had begun to complete this second task by calling Sammi to let her know what was happening.

"Sure, anything you need Care." Carrie beamed down the phone at this, endeared by her best friend's unwavering support and eagerness to do anything that Carrie needed.

"I burned some photos and letters associated with Jack today. I think it's finally time to move on properly. That was the first step. I need your help with the second step."

"Oh, gosh. Okay, what can I do to help?"

"I'm going to send you the key to the drawer that the remaining stuff is going to be locked in. I need you to keep the key until you think I'm ready to open the drawer again and see the things without reversing all of this work. I trust you. You'll know when I'm ready better than any doctor could."

"Okay, of course. I can do that. Is there anything else?"

"No. No, that's it. I'm about to make another appointment with my counsellor, the third thing. I have to do the fourth and final thing on the list alone."

"What's the final thing?"

"I'm going to send him a letter. Remember Matt Edwards? He's still friends with Jack; I'll get the address from him and send the letter."

"Are you sure? Remember that I'm so proud of you. You're doing so well. This is a huge step. It's the final step. Once you've done this, you can move on."

"I know, I'm sure, thank you. How are you doing? Anything exciting happening?"

The two best friends spent an extra hour on the phone chatting to each other, disclosing anything of significance since they spoke the previous morning. Sammi had just received the news that, due to her fluency in French and German, she had been deliberately handpicked for a new job as an interpreter. It had been her dream since she was a teenager, and now she had finally accomplished it. Carrie squealed with pure delight as her friend told her the news. They spent the hour talking and laughing with Carrie snorting with laughter as Sammi told her that she had put temporary neon pink hair dye in her bleach blonde boyfriend's shampoo bottle. He had stepped out of the shower fuming, his face red with embarrassment, anger and some amusement. He, too, could not contain his amusement when Sammi had reassured him that it would wash out in a couple of days.

"Good luck with step four Care. You've got this. I'm so proud. I love you."

"I love you too, Sam. Thank you for everything. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"It's all you Care. I'll let you know how long it takes for Jamie's hair to wash out," Sammi joked, causing the girls to burst into fits of giggles before saying their goodbyes and hanging up.

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After Carrie locked up the remaining things, she sent the key down to Sammi, and, with a new appointment with her counsellor booked, the time finally came for Carrie to face the music- time to send Jack the letter. She sat at the desk at which she had written the letter in the first place, copied the address down onto the envelope and sealed it. Doubt overcame her, and she faltered with the stamp, setting it back down on the desk.

Jack Green

His name stood out at her as if it was written in huge, bold letters in all colours of the rainbow. As soon as she dropped the envelope into the letterbox, there would be no going back. He would receive the letter and finally see just what he had done to her.

Sun broke through the grey, overcast sky and light up the left side of her face, causing her to shift to face the window and peer out of it. A slight smile appeared on her lips as she took the unexpected arrival of the sun as a sign that this was the right thing to do. Encouraged, she fixed the stamp to the envelope then turned to look out the window once more. Birds chirped as they ate some seeds that she had left out for them in the frost the previous evening, the sun resting high in the sky, still overpowering the clouds that tried to enclose it. The world seemed peaceful, tranquil. It was rapidly becoming a beautiful winter's morning, and she had begun to look forward to breathing in the crisp air on her brief walk to the letterbox at the end of the road.

Donning her long, black coat, she picked up the envelope and trod outside. The chilly air hit her face as her breath became visible. Winter had always been her favourite season; she had always relished in the feeling of the cool, refreshing air on her face and the slight rosiness that grew on her cheeks when it was unusually brisk. The warmth had always been uncomfortable to her as she found that she overheated particularly easily, even in the rather pathetic excuse for summer regularly experienced in England. Walking at night or when it was coldest was another effective way for her to clear her head. That was precisely what she did on her walk to the letterbox. She wavered while peering at it, noticing how the bright red paint of the letterbox stood out against its frost-covered surroundings. Then, without too much more consideration, she slid the letter through the gap and let it fall into the letterbox.

Sucking in a deep breath, she turned on her heels and left the letter sitting on the top of the pile of letters hidden in the letterbox. Her feelings were out there for what felt like the world to see. Surprisingly, she was not anywhere near as apprehensive as she thought she would be about this.

She was ready for the world to know.

Unaware, Carrie arrived at her front door and continued walking, relishing in the serenity of her environment and the calm that it instilled in her. She had finally completed the most daunting task on her list, ten years after it had first happened. She already felt lighter, as if the weight that had been oppressing her for years had finally lifted, leaving her walking with a slight spring in her step.

Her last step was complete.

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Even after ten years of no contact with her, Jack had promptly recognised the handwriting the day he had received the letter. It had been a couple of days since he had noticed it included in the bundle of envelopes waiting for him at home after his business trip to Dubai. Jack ripped open the other envelopes, the contents of which was largely inconsequential. However, one, Carrie's, remained unopen. What on earth could she have written to him for? Was it good? Was it bad? Was it to check up on him? That he doubted. But, for the life of him, he could not work out what it was about.

He had always wondered about her; it was only natural; they had been near enough inseparable once. Best friends. For so long, he had wanted them to be more than that, still sporadically questioning if it was a missed opportunity. Throughout his time at sixth form, he had wanted to go over to her and talk, hash it all out, resolve all of their problems and go back to how they were when they were 9-years-old. Whenever he would see her sitting in the same seat during her frees alone in the sixth form cafe, he wanted to take a seat next to her and talk; he wanted to hear her say his name in that way signalling she was trying to be annoyed by something he had said or done but just couldn't. He just wanted her to say anything to him to acknowledge his existence.

Yet, his blunder, his one fatal mistake, had destroyed any chance of that happening. There wasn't a day that went by that he didn't regret it. Losing his best friend had struck him hard. He had needed her more than ever when he had lost her, and he had prevented her from being there for him because he ignored all of her warnings before he fucked it all up.

Carrie had always seemed happy enough; she was always laughing with her friends; Jack never realised that she stopped whenever she dared a glance at him, or how she would tense up when she was in the same room as him. Jack was always happy that she was doing okay, it was all he wanted for a long time, but it felt like a stab in the chest to think that he was once the reason that she was happy and doing okay.

That role had been taken by someone else.

Days later, when he had finally decided to open it, he was sat in the back of a taxi, staring off out of the window at nothing in particular. The letter had felt heavy in his pocket as he carried it around with him just so that, when he finally dared to open it, it would be with him and he wouldn't have an excuse to back out. It had to be important, of that much, he was sure. Why else would she write to him? He pulled it from his inside pocket and stared down at his name and address written in her favourite coloured ink. She had always preferred blue because she insisted that it made her handwriting look the neatest. In blue, her letters looked more curly and less sloppy which was always important to her as she had large writing, making it easy for it to look all over the place

His heart clenched and squeezed painfully as he opened it and read the first line.

Dear Jack,
Thank you for making me stronger...

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Word count: 2119
Approx reading time: 10 minutes

(Please be aware that I am English, and therefore, some spelling will be different from American English. These are not typos; it is just the British spelling.)