Dear Fin,

    I re-read the last letter last night . . . sometimes; I wonder why I put myself through this. Remembering all the pain that you've brought me can't be healthy and yet I do it anyways. Because there is something so addictive about feeling like shit, maybe because it's a feeling I understand oh so well.

    Writing to you is like ripping of a band-aid. When I met you, I had this bleeding wound that I desperately needed to cover up, which you thankfully covered with a band-aid; but as time passed, the gash continued to bleed, soaking through the band-aid. Yet you refused to remove it and its been sitting there all this time. These letters are my way of ripping off those band-aids.

    Encounter Number Seventy-Three:

    Worry filled me like a bitter bone, threatening to make my body collapse under the weight of the world. You were my thoughts, forever lingering, and I just wanted to be with you. I knew you were alone and that terrified you, that you were drowning in pain and felt like no one could save you . . . I wanted to save you.

    It had been over a week since Etta's passing and I hadn't seen you since. The last sight I had of you was curled up into my arms, giving me one last hug before you disappeared into your house after I drove you and your mother home.

    Generally, funerals are arranged a lot faster than a week, but your mother was really struggling to make the arrangements. It must've been so hard to plan two funerals for people you love so close together. I volunteered to help, but your mother insisted that she was fine; before she would promptly burst into tears.

    Today, though, today was the day of the dreaded funeral. The ceremony was in the afternoon and a small reception would occur after, but the thoughts of burying Etta had me waking up at the strike of dawn; well . . . and there's was a tapping at my window.

    I raced over and I saw you, standing in my lawn. Even though it had only been a week since I last saw you, you looked so different; you're like a ghost, just an imprint of the life you left behind. Your skin was so pale it appeared transparent, your green eyes glazed and distant and you had lost a bit of weight. You had been throwing stones up at my window.

    "Hey," I greeted.

    "Hey," you replied.

    "You w-want to come in?"

    You hesitated for a moment before nodding. "I would like that."

    I went downstairs and opened the front for you. Your eyes watched my body in my pyjamas –camisole and underwear- which caused me to blush for reasons unknown, since you had seen me naked before.  We stared at each other for a moment before you reached over and wrapped me up in a heart shattering hug, burying your face in my hair.

    "I missed you," you murmured. "I'm sorry I've been nonexistence the last few days, I just . . . I don't know. I guess I needed some time to myself. It's crazy, though, because the more time I spent alone the more I missed you."

    "Fin, it's a-alright." I let my fingers curl around your shoulders. "I mi-missed you, too  . . . a-are you fe-feeling better?"

    I knew that you weren't but you nodded anyways. "Being with you makes me feel better, my dove."

    We stayed like that for a moment before I pulled away, placing a kiss on your cheek. I let my words press against your skin. "Would you l-like to come up-upstairs?"

    "Okay."

    I grabbed your hand and I led you up the stairs and to my room. The house was still sleeping, thankfully, so we basically had it to ourselves; although the only place we're heading to was my room. After you entered, I shut the door behind you.

    You sat down on my bed, pulling me with you. You pulled me onto my lap, holding my hips, so I was straddling you. I blushed.

    "Annalise," you murmured, gazing up at me with those sad green eyes of yours. "Can I ask you something?"

    "Sure."

    "Can you wear something pretty today? I know it sounds ridiculous, I just . . . I really don't know how to face today without you," you said.

    I couldn't help but smile at the sheepish expression on your face. "Of co-course, d-darling, I'll do whatever you want."

    "Can you come and lie down with me, then, for a little while?" You asked. Due to the bags under your eyes, I could tell that you probably hadn't been sleeping well. We had a while before we had to get up and ready for the funeral.

    "I said I'd do wha-whatever you w-want, didn't I?"

    End of Encounter Number Seventy-Three.

    Gently, I grab the edge of the band-aid, holding it tight between my fingers. I let my finger nail slip underneath, slightly tugging it away from my skin.

    Encounter Number Seventy-Four:

    When I woke up, you're gone. I glanced at my clock and saw it was a little after ten in the morning, so I knew you had probably left to prepare for the funeral. On my desk, I found a little note from you:

    Dove, sorry I couldn't stay longer. I love you xoxoxo –Fin.

    After taking a moment to smile at the note, I headed to my bathroom to ready myself for Etta's funeral. You had asked me to look pretty, so I would. I would do whatever you wanted me to do, forever and always. 

    Within two hours, I found myself ready at the cemetery. You and your mother had yet to arrive, but everyone there understood that today must be challenging for you two. Although I wasn't sure that everyone had arrived, there weren't many people here, since it was more of a burial than a service.

     The school had held the public service –since your mother, at the time, didn't seem capable of setting it up due to her suffering -in Etta's memory and so many people arrived that I instantly started crying. Etta Erickson was loved and her loss was a great burden on our community . . . no one would ever fill that void. 

    "Hello?" A gentle voice murmured.

     I turned to my left to face the speaker and my jaw almost dropped. It was Ally Santiago. Of course, I had never spoken to her and only knew that she was your ex-girlfriend; but still, the sight of her was startling and unexpected. Of course, her appearance was slightly different than the girl in that picture; her chocolaty hair fell straight down her back, her lips were stained red, her black dress was slightly more filled out with blossoming curves.

    "You're Annalise, right, Fin's girlfriend?" She asked, her voice as smooth and soft as silk. Even her voice was attractive.

    I gulped. "Um, y-yeah. You're Ally, right?"

    I was surprised when she blushed, as if she had something to embarrassed by when she looked like she did and I looked like me. "Yeah. It's nice to meet you; Fin has told me so much about you, Annalise."

    Really? I didn't even know Fin was still in contact with you, I was tempted to say (with my mandatory stutter). It was a tough time, though, and I didn't want to cause any drama; besides, it was probably innocent communication. "It's n-nice to me-meet you, too."

    Before she could say anything else, you and your mother arrived. Clearly, she had already started crying and you had your arm tightly around her, your expression stoic. Upon stepping onto the grounds, you grandmother approached the two of you, taking over the duty of fussing over your distressed mother.  You approached us, giving us polite greetings, but were distant; I couldn't blame you, I just held your hand as if I could take the pain away.

    And the burial began.

    A minister spoke, as he had at her service, but watching Etta's body slowly lower into the ground was the final confirmation that she was gone. Tears found my eyes and leaked down my cheeks, but nothing was as painful as watching the silent agony consume your soul; the pure pain that shimmered in your eyes was unbearable to have to witness. Etta was finally gone.

    End of Encounter Number Seventy-Four.

    I peel it back, feeling the band-aid slowly loosen its grip against my skin. I wince as I feel it leave, the sharp sting from its removal an ever present reminder of its existence.

    Encounter Number Seventy-Five:

    Three days after the burial, you called me.  Apparently, Ally wanted to meet up with you and I, and you wanted to go because you wanted to go back to living. Even if living revolved hanging out with your ex-girlfriend. But I didn't mind because finally you're giving life a chance again, so I had agreed.

    We met up at a local diner, one that went for a vintage vibe but didn't have the funds. The scent of cigarettes and pancakes hung in the air.

     You gave me a hug before even acknowledging Ally, your arms circled tightly around my waist. I grasped your shoulders as if they could support life. Your lips found my ear. "I forgot to tell you that you looked absolutely stunning at the burial."

    Before I could respond, you let go of me and caught sight of Ally. You stared at her for a moment, your gaze incomprehensible.  Finally, a polite smiled fitted your lips and you awkwardly reached forward to give her a hug.

    "Hello, Fin," she greeted.

    You gulped. "Hello, Ally . . . you two have met, right?"

    Ally nodded, before smiling. "At the burial, yes. It's nice to see you again, Annalise."

    "Th-thanks. You, too," I responded.

    We sat down in our little booth and although it was later in the afternoon, we ordered breakfast: eggs and French toast and pancakes. Ally told us about life if your home town; about hooks up and break ups, about birth and death, about love and loss. She spoke with a certain verve that I found quite attractive, an eager smile on her lips. She would add jokes and give me information, so I didn't feel left out. Overall, I liked her. She was sweet.

    Throughout it all, though, I could tell that you weren't paying attention. I couldn't exactly blame you, after everything that had happened in the past few weeks, regardless if it was rude. You mainly watched the scenery outside the window, occasionally nodding at Ally's words.

    At one point, you stood up. "I need to use the washroom, I'll be back."

    You planted a kiss on my forehead before disappearing behind the bathroom doors. I couldn't help but blush at the contact.

    Ally wiggled her eyebrows at me.  "So, how long have you two been together?"

    I bit my lip. "Ab-bout five months now."

    "Only five? The way you look at each other, I would guess an eternity," she told me, smiling slightly at me. Her eyes had a dreamlike state to them.  "Not to make you uncomfortable, but I'm sure you know that Fin and I used to date; I used to think that he was the love of my life, that he was my prince charming. But then he lost his dad and he started pushing me away and, I don't know, I guess I just let myself be pushed. I should've stayed with him, but I left because I was too much of a coward to face the demons that reflected in his eyes. But, seeing the way he looks at you now, like you're the most precious thing in the world . . . I know I made the right decision. You make him happy, Annalise."

    I blushed. I didn't know how to respond.

    But she changed the subject. "If you don't mind my boldness, can I ask about your speech impediment?"

    People didn't often ask me about my stuttering and her question startled me. It was so random, so sudden. But her inquiry was polite enough. "Th-there isn't much t-to tell. I just . . . I get ner-ervous speaking to p-people, so I st-stutter."

    "Interesting," she mused. "I'm just asking because next year I'm going to study to become a psychologist. I just find the human mind so fascinating and I like helping people solve problems and what not . . . it was really brave of you to share that with me."

    Just then, our food arrived. Steaming plates of early morning deliciousness as twilight glimmered from the outside world.

    I grinned, already knowing how sweet the food would taste upon my tongue. But then I realized we're missing you; you had been gone for quite awhile already. "I'm g-going to tell Fin our f-food's ready."

   She nodded, already digging into her food.

    I headed towards the men's washrooms, carefully knocking on the door. Having been to ladies room earlier, I knew that there was only one toilet contained within, so there was no way you're waiting. Biting my lip, I knocked on the door. "F-Fin, baby, are you in there?"

    No response.

    "Baby," I repeated. "Please, open up. Please. I'm worried . . . are you okay? Please come out, or talk to me. Say something."

    This was feeling all too familiar.

    "Fin, darling . . . I know you're scared r-right now. I know that life w-without E-Etta is a really scary p-prospect for you, but I promise you it will be alright. I give you my oath, my word, my vow." There was still no response on the other side of the door. "But please, baby, talk to me. I c-can't help you if I don't know wh-what's wrong. Remember that night near Christmas, when you w-were the one s-sitting on the other side of the ba-bathroom door? You saved my life, you gave me purpose. Please let me give some to yours."

    For a heartbeat, I could hear nothing behind the wooden door. But then, I heard a quiet moan, "Annalise?"

    "F-Fin? Oh, thank goodness." I gulped down tears, not even realizing how close I had been to crying. "Please, open the door."

    "I . . . I can't feel my fingers," you responded.

    Yes, this was feeling way too familiar.

    "Remember when I opened the door that night? I couldn't feel my fingers either, but I wanted to see you so much. I needed you. If you even want me as much as I needed you that night, you'll be able to stand up and open the door," I insisted, my tone so confident that not a single stutter fell from my lips.

    I waited for a few moments.

    The knob turned, you had somehow opened the door. I hadn't known if that plan was going to work, but it had.

    Tears clung to your eyelashes, your lower lip trembling; you had pushed your sleeves to your elbows, a bloody piece of glass resting by your feet, you wrists . . . you had mangled your wrists in an attempt to die.

    And I wrapped my arms around you as if I could take the burden of your pain off of your shoulders. But I couldn't. And I hated myself for it.

    End of Encounter Number Seventy-Five.

    I let my fingers inch along the rest of the band-aid, slowly releasing its hold on my skin. At first it stung, but as the cool air hit the mark, the pain slowly subsided. The band-aid was almost gone, it . . . the edge wouldn't move. It was stuck on my skin. I couldn't remove the band-aid.

    I was stuck with you forever.

    -Annalise

*

Hey Reader!

    Notice: With this story, I've just found out that I made it into the second round of the Pusheen Burger Teen Fiction Contest! Personally, I thought the title of the contest was hilarious, so I entered. But regardless . . . it's such a huge honor and I thank all the judges for bestowing me with this wonderful opportunity. 

    Chapter's song: "Take Me Away" by Gabrielle Aplin. This song is so beautiful, it's about taking away the pain that you're experiencing, which is exactly what Fin is going through right now. Also, Gabrielle Aplin is one of the most beautiful and genuine voices of our generation.

    Thanks for reading.

     Love Your Favorite Liar <3