The Post Office

Dear Nim

I dont even know why i'm writing you again, I know that you won't write back and you hate me. It's very obvious in the way you glare at me, when I smile at you. It's not like you don't have reason, I guess I deserve all the hatred. This isn't really easy for me, but I figure it was way better than trying to do this in person. I'm not perfect I can admit that, I try really hard but I know that I have problems, flaws, cracks where there should be smoothness. I guess im just trying to figure out how to deal with them. I really hope you continue reading because Im not making excuses, Im apologizing...Im taking you up on the offer that was extended to me that day. I don't know if I should say anything, I really haven't come to terms with things yet and I don't if I ever will. I'm no good at being weak, showing weakness isn't something that either side of my family is willing to accept. When bad things happen we don't spare a moment to reflect or mourn, we move on and keep going. You found me at my lowest, my most titanic moment and I really shouldn't have reacted the way that I did.

It's not excuse but I reacted the way I did because you saw something that no one was every supposed to see. My dad didn't even mourn the loss of his father, and the whole thing was my fault. I wasn't strong enough to prevent further harm...I should've done more and I can't even remember the night the farm was attacked by hunters. I guess over the years leading up to my grandfather's death I sort of pushed back the horrible memories of being a killer. I want you to know that I try so hard to be a nice person, to not be an angry bitter wolf...but it happens. It only seems to happen around you...only when you're around. Maybe it's because since you've seen me at my lowest it's easier to be that horrible person around you. That's not who I want to be, I dont want to be someone who hurts other people because they can't control their animal instincts and their anger. That's why im telling you what was wrong with me that night. I want you to know that, even though I apologized before, I owe you more than one apology.

I thought I could go through the motions of pretending to be okay and then snapping and breaking when no one is around, but you ruined that so beautifully. I didn't mean to make you the object of my anger, of my cruelty and yet it turned out that way. Regardless of you being older, I should've been smarter than that, kinder than that. I would not like someone treating my siblings that way or me for that matter. Ith all due respect I saw your weakness and preyed on that and it was incredibly wrong. I want to right all the wrongs and left turns I made, starting with this...with you.

Somewhere along the lines of believing that I hate you, I started to realize that it wasn't hatred fueling my stupidity. It started off as wanting you to forget the weakness you saw, pushing until all you could remember was strength, power, and coldness. But as the torment escalated I realized I had gone from wanting to torment you to wanting to be around you. To wanting a normal conversation with you instead of a screaming match. Even though I stopped bothering you I could that you didn't trust me, that I had managed to do so much damage over the course of a few months, that I wasn't redeemable in your eyes. Still I had to try, the pleasant conversations, that insults that went unanswered...I just wanted to hear you talk to me. That sounds wrong But I honestly don't know how else to explain this. It sounds more like an obsession that a crush, more stalkerish than someone who realized that their emotions weren't angry but instead Lust, Respect, fondness.

I notice the way you bit your lip when you're concentrating in school, it's distracting. The way you hide behind that hoodie of yours, your devotion to cooking, your devotion to that laptop of yours. I wish I new what you were typing. Every single thing about you drives me absolutely crazy and I have no Idea why. Well yes I know but this letter isn't supposed to be like...one of those trashy romance novels. I refuse to be edward in some sappy gay Twilight fan fiction between Edward and Jacob. I know this makes absolutely no sense, how someone can go from one to another so fast. I couldn't stand how much you seemed to be effecting me and so I lashed out, stupidly in anger again. I shouldn't have had you shoved in a locker. I just....I didn't like how oyou had completely ruined other people for me. Im okay with being pansexual, Im not okay with you creeping into my mind when im trying not to think of you. Why are you doing this to me, I don't even have the courage to sign this, You should know who it's from...this is killing me.


P.S I hop you like the gift.

enclosed and a first edition chizard card in perfect condition in a card protector

The paper seems to have several eraser marks and is even slightly torn from erasing in one place, crudely taped back together. It seems as though a lot of thought was put into the words.

Dear Jeff,

Please meet me in the courtyard on Saturday. I know you'll get this by then. Please don't stand my request up. I read your message. If you mean any of what you say, you'll be there. I'm going to trust you. Just to be there. So you'd better come, Jeffrey Pingleton. You'd better.

- Nimble Vernon Emmerson

A bag of gummy dicks are sent to Toby with a typed out note reading: Eat a Dick!

It's a package. It includes an art booklet full of personal use, one of a kind designs, specially made for Cecil-- and a note that requests that he pick anything he likes to be fully made. Next is a little collection of printed out positive reviews and chatter about Cecil's portrayal of Rico in Royals, with things circled for emphasis and little agreeable comments or additions made, and some stylistic posters with him. Finally is a very nice cashmere sweater.

An old Valentines Day card is here.

I'm using this because it has hearts on it, okay? Hold your judgement.

This is just because. Hope you have a better day today, if you open this right away, and if not, hope you had a better day and have one again when you're reading this. If you're reading it. Whatever. Don't overthink.

Toby xoxoxo

PS: seriously, get back to me on design preferences, you're fun to work on stuff for.

A paper package with pictures. Each one is a different makeup design.

It's a tightly sealed box with special refrigerated, insulated packaging. Inside is a hand from a woman's corpse, nicely manicured and pretty enough to model for such things, pale, cold, and dead. There are gaudy rings, a tacky show of wealth, almost as though to imply it belonged to someone greedy with such things but not accustomed to them. It is cut a little after the wrist, as around that are pink, fuzzy handcuffs. There's a printed out note.

I'm sorry you never got to fulfill your fantasies, so I found you a rebound date.

The space wasn't big enough for the rest of her, but I promise, she's everything you dreamed of.

Enjoy!

It's a video recording of Toby delivering it to his door.

Aw, you thought of me? How sweet of you!

Unfortunately, she's not my type, so I had to take her to the Station. Get a load of the guy on the tape, though. I'd take him to dinner any time. Mhm.

Valentine,

I don't frequently send letters, especially not to you, but I'm not sure who else to talk to about this. Lately, I have gotten the strong urge to hurt things, which follows an intense anger. Some people might say this is normal for a teenager, but I know that what I'm feeling is the farthest thing from normal. I've always been an angry child, but this is different. More intense. I don't want to hurt people, but I do, and I'm not sure what to do or where this is stemming from.

— Eroshay

(A series of scribbles and hard points on the paper suggest Shay was angry as she wrote this. Part of the parchment is torn.)

A box full of classic horror movies with a note that reads:

Made me think of you.
- Jett