Dear Malcolm,

I miss you very much. Can't you come back again Ma and Dad wouldn't say anything about it! You're welcome! Come back little brother!

With love, George.

Malcolm had a big brother? He hadn't mentioned any of that.

Dear Malcolm,

Sorry! I need you! Do understand that! You are my little brother! I swore to take care of you! Please come back!

With love, George.

There was a letter in Malcolm's handwriting that he probably wrote but never mailed:

Dear George,

I miss you very much too. But you know I can't come back. William and Margarete would repeat everything and I don't need that again. You don't know what they did to me and I will never be able to forget it. But my problems do not concern anyone. I shouldn't be a burden. You will laugh at it and think: Oh. He wrote some crap just so he didn't have to come home.

But it is not like that! I can't come home. Do you think I wanted that !? I wanted a normal childhood, to study music, or at least to be supported. But the only support I got was that they broke up my band before we could even record our songs. And you know very well that we already had a contract. I don't understand how a parent can hate his son so badly just because he ... likes boys. And I don't want to be gay! Damn! I do not want to! But I can not change it! Why do you think Dad pulled me out of bed at 12 at night and took me away? And why was I badly injured in the hospital the next day? So don't tell me you wanted to protect me. You don't know what it means ...

You couldn't read any further because everything was blurred. It looked like tears. Oh! How so! I turned the pages quickly until I came to a new page that was quite legible:

Dear Mr. Malcolm Mitchell,

I hereby disinherit you of all that is due to you. You are not my son anymore. The only thing you were good at was being a slut, and you were really good at that. I didn't know any better. Never come back! If you do, I'll shoot you! Die with another fagot by your side! But wait ... nobody wants you! Just die! You'd do everyone a favor! Most of all to me!

Sincerely, William Mitchell

I stared at the letter. His father addressed him as if he were a stranger and why did he write that he should die? What had that bastard done to my Malcolm !? What was going on here !? I cried crowds. Another letter said:

Dear Malcolm,

i still miss you very much Please write back to me! I know that you read my letters! Dad supposedly wrote you a letter. I know what it said and I also know that you're depressed and hurting yourself. Stop it now! If only because Ma and Dad would be happy they brought you to your knees! Understand that! There are a lot of gay people! So what!? My best friend is gay! Ma and Dad don't know. That's true. But still! Give them a chance to understand!

With love, your big brother.

Why didn't this George understand? Why!? I turned the pages and found another letter from Malcolm:

Dear George,

I know you want me to come back. But understand that! I can not! You can't imagine how I'm doing! And I don't wish you either! Everybody hates me! My father, my mother, my "friends". And let's be honest. So are you. I'm a fagot. A pathetic fagot! I should just die like William said! I would do everyone a favor. Yesterday I did scratched me. So much that I felt dizzy. There was too much blood. But who cares? My only friend is Bon. Nobody cares if I hurt myself. Nobody notices. Even if I put my arm under theyr nose. I just don't care. NO ONE!

I swallowed. That was not good. There was a diary entry. That was three months ago. I also read it:

Dear Diary,

today I hurt myself again. It looks like, I knew it, nobody cares. What's that supposed to mean? I write the same thing every day. Today I met a cute boy with curly hair in the bar. His name was Angus McKinnon. He was so cute. I think I'm in love. I hope I can see him again. But whatever? I rave about and he drops me (if he would take me at all) just like the others did. At the latest when he finds out about my problem. I can't and I don't want to anymore! I want to die! He was so beautiful. Those green eyes with those brown curls. And this slim body. He was so beautiful. But why should such a sweet, nice and beautiful boy want something from me? I am ugly, worthless and hated by everyone. I guess I'll go to sleep now before I get any foolish thoughts. The blades are tucked away. But I never know.

~ Malcolm Mitchell

I swallowed. That was not good. It was mega cute, as he described me. But he wasn't ugly. Exactly the opposite! Is he still hurting himself!? If so, why the hell didn't I notice!? I cried. At some point I went back to Malcolm's bedroom. My love was still cuddled in the blankets and slept. I took off my pants, lay down next to him and kissed his forehead.

"What have they done to you, darling?" I whispered, whimpering. He put an arm around me in his sleep and pulled me close. I cried into his chest.