dear vanessa,

vanessa, darling! you tried to pack up and leave me? all because that stupid boy told you to come to him? to get in your car and drive for hours to go to his apartment?

aw, honey—you're so whipped you don't even realize it. it's a dilusion, don't you see? he'll hurt you.

at least, he would have. if i hadn't done anything.

you know the bonus of you living in an apartment complex not close to much anything or anybody? especially any cameras?

i can get away with anything!

you shoved everything into one bag and started running outside and packing it into the back of your car. (vanessa, if you have a car, why the fuck were you walking to walmart? kind of funny, if you ask me. was that apart of some fitness thing you were trying to do? didn't i already tell you you're beautiful?)

as i was saying, you were packing everything into your car and i just couldn't let you leave so i ran up and. . .

honey, i didn't want to hit you over the head. but i promise you i'm a good guy. and i promise i didn't let you hit the ground.

i scooped you up, and put you in the passenger seat, and reclined the chair back so it would look like you were sleeping to any traffic cams we went past as we drove and. . .

i mean, of course i eventually tied you up. but i did it nicely.

and i waited hours before doing so! i drove and drove and drove, but you didn't wake up. then i realized that if you woke up, you'd probably run and wouldn't give me a chance to explain. so, the moment the sun started going down, i stopped at a convenience store and bought some duck tape, hopped back in the car, and tied you up as carefully as possible.

i laid you in the back and propped up your head with your bag, like a little pillow!

aren't i very nice?

sincerely, jonathan