The letters
"It smelled like a dormitory, and it looked like a dormitory. No surprises there…." Lisa thought as she closed the door to the new dormitory and looked around. The room was exactly what she had expected, but still she kind of wished it had been a little nicer, not so scruffy, worn out looking. "Oh, well it was only going to be her home away from home the next few years so, no time to be picky, right?" she thought as she threw her bags on the bed.
She settled in, attended a few classes and got into the swing of college life when she stumbled upon them one day. Well, stumble may be a strong word for prying and braking open the false drawer bottom she had found in the desk. Inside she had found a small bundle of letters. They appeared to be relatively new, no more than a few years tops, at any rate; the paper hadn't gotten that yellow patina and they didn't smell of 'old paper'.
The same handwriting was on each of the envelopes, stating simply 'Dean'. None of them had addresses or stamps, so she figured they never reached the recipient.
There where four letters in all. Being the curious creature that she was, she opened the letter at the bottom first, as she figured that would be the oldest one. She couldn't help but wonder about the person that had obviously gone through so much trouble building this false bottom in the drawer just to stack some letters there and then leave them behind.
It didn't make sense…
But it was their loss and her adventure, she thought as she carefully opened and unfolded the first letter and spread it out on the desk. The handwriting was beautiful. She decided that the writer had to be female. She had very rarely seen men with writing that neat and fluent
She smoothed the letter out and started to read:
Dear Dean,
I'm writing this letter knowing that your hands will never touch the paper that this pencil is scribbling over. Knowing that you will never see the marks my tears are leaving on this page. Knowing that you will never know that they where shed for you, and you, not knowing, is the only way to keep me sane.
I know you think I left because of John. That he drove me away with the constant arguments and fights that I left perusing my dream. I admit getting away from all that fighting and hunting felt good, but it's not the reason for me leaving. The actual reason for me leaving was you!
I couldn't stand it anymore. Being so close every day without being able to tell… Tell you how you make me feel! How safe I always felt around you, no matter how bad the hunts got. You always had my back. I felt so loved and protected! You always looking out for me! Always putting me first! This is also the reason why I can never tell you how I feel, or what I really want.
Because on some level I know that you probably would go along with it, just to make me happy. That is just how fucked up our relationship is. I don't think I ever told you how much I appreciated you always putting me first and I desperately miss that feeling of comfort.
I miss you, Dean!
I can't even begin to tell you how much I miss you. I miss that little smile in consent you gave me when no one else was around. I miss your accidental touches that made my skin tingle in ways it really shouldn't. I miss how you always seamed to know what I was thinking before I knew myself. Fortunately, you never knew what kinds of thoughts I had about you in protection of the night. Never knew about the thoughts that drove me away from you, forcing me to leave. You were the reason I had to leave… well not you, but how you made me feel was the reason I had to leave and I miss you so desperately… I love you and I'm in love with you…forever!
Love,
Sam
Now that she knew about them, she could actually see faint evidence of dried teardrops having altered the structure of the paper in a few places. The letter and the apparently unhappy woman's unrequited love touched her.
Who had she been?
Who was this Dean?
Was John her abusive husband and Dean some close friend or brother to John or something?
She didn't know, but they all seemed to have been hunting together, and they apparently were very close but not as close as Sam wanted them to be. Her imagination ran wild over this letter. Her heart ached for them both and she was intrigued by this triangle-drama.
Lisa got up from the uncomfortable desk chair and sat down on the bed as she opened the second letter.
Dear Dean,
I don't know why I keep doing this—writing letters you will never read? Guess since we are not really talking anymore this is my way of thinking that I have some way of communicating, even if only one-sided… Still miss you so much it hurts every day and every hour.
I had hoped that not being around you would ease the torture… but apparently, being close to you are just as painful as NOT being close to you. I know it was my choice and I will live with it, but I still miss not being able to se you every day; sitting next to you in the car (Oh, the car…). I don't expect you to understand (and I truly hope that you never will) the agony it was sitting so close, but always so far away in the ways that mattered... All I wanted was to reach out for that thigh or for that manly rough hand on the steering wheel. I didn't, but I wanted to. I wanted to touch you in a way that no man like me ever should think about touching another—especially not someone like you.
I had hoped that not being around you would put a stop to those kinds of forbidden thoughts, but it didn't… Still think about you every night. Still think about you when I come. Yes, I'm a sick, sick bastard who still loves you more than life itself.
Love,
Sam
There were no dates on the letters so she couldn't guess how much time had went by since the first one. It felt like perhaps months or maybe a year?
So, Sam probably wasn't a girl's name as she had first thought. The writer was probably male, and that actually explained a lot of the torment and feelings he felt he couldn't express towards the love of his life. She found it so sad that gay people still had to hide around the bushes in some parts of the world. Well, for some, right in their own family's home
So, this was probably some guy named Samuel who was in love with his (straight?) best friend or something. They seemed to have been living together, or maybe only working together?
But who was this John? The guy mentioned in the first letter? Was he another friend whom they also lived with?
She was getting more and more confused but also intoxicatingly curious about the person that had apparently lived in the same room as she had, only a few years ago and who wrote these letters not intended for anyone else to read. She felt guilty about that thought for a brief moment, before she got up to get the third letter from the desk.
Dear Dean,
So much time has gone by and yes I can breath a little easier these days. The hurt doesn't hurt as much, and there are days when I'm not constantly wondering where you are and what you are doing. That is progress, I guess? I still miss you, though. I miss our conversations and jokes. I even miss your bad taste in music.
I feel I have made real progress with coming to terms with who I am and accepting that my feelings for you will never be reciprocated. Still, I wonder sometimes though, how much of these perverted feelings of mine come from our seriously disturbing childhood? No children should ever have had to see what we have seen or know what we know. Maybe being so dependent on you while growing up somehow fucked us both up? Sometimes I think to myself: Maybe it's not just me? Then reality catches up and I realize what a sick, disturbed kid I am, that can't even sit next to my brother without thinking of fucking him.
I know that I eventually will learn to live with these feelings, and I'm slowly getting there but I'm not ready to come back and have my nose rubbed in it on a daily basis.
At least not yet…
I wish John would stop badgering me about joining the family business. I really do not have the love for the hunt like you two do. Sometimes I can't help thinking that maybe we're not related? That would explain so much and get me out of 'the disappointing son' dilemma. And it certainly would make my feelings towards you a hell of a lot easier to handle… But I know what cards I have been dealt and now I better start playing them.
I've met this girl—Jess! She is lovely and I think I may actually love her. Not in the way I love you, don't think I can ever love anyone like I love you… You are my brother after all.
Love,
Sam
What the fuck? She read the letter over and over again trying to make sense of it. Were they family?
'Like, foster kids or something?' she wondered, truly hoping so. Because she really didn't want to think about anything closer than that No, they probably weren't foster kids she realized as she skimmed through the letters again and tried to fit what she just read into her 'code of conduct' without any success.
Now all the secrecy (and hiding the letters, never to be read) started to make sense to her. But There was still one more letter left; it seemed to be more recent and had a different envelope then the others. She picked it up hesitantly, not sure she really wanted to know any more than she did already about this truly fucked up drama.
On some level, she couldn't help but feel for the boy who was so tormented by his feelings for his brother. She couldn't even start to imagine the agony and pain he must have been through.
She dared to opened the last letter and nervously bit her lip as she started reading.
Dear Dean,
This is my last letter to you that you will never read. Don't know why I wrote it and I certainly don't know why I decided to break in to my old dorm and hide it amongst the others but it seemed right. In fact, the only thing that has felt right the last couple of days, ever since we went on that hunt together.
I would like to say that I'm over you, that I have learned to control my feelings towards you, but I'm not—Not really….
But this is how I will play out the cards dealt me:
I'm going to marry Jess and live the apple pie life we always wanted when we where kids. I am going to do that, and I'm going to go to law school like planned. I'm going to meet you for the holidays and we are going to do that brother bonding thing in front of the TV or playing sports. We are going to do all that and I'm going to be all right with that and the memory of when you were an obsession to me will eventually be a distant memory; like a fading dream. That is how I had it all planned out, and it would have worked out!
I was well on my way to having all that until you decided to showed up again…
FUCK YOU!
All this time trying not to want you, trying not to wonder how your lips would feel like against mine. All that hard work wasted after only one weekend with you in that damn car.
So now, this is how it's going to be; I will have my apple pie life, but you will not be a part of it. There will be no brotherly bonding over the holidays because I have proven to myself that I can live without you! I really can! It's the living with you in my life that I can't handle.
You showing up proved once again that I couldn't possibly live a normal life with you as any part of it, not while staying sane anyway… Just seeing you for only a few days actually has given me terrible nightmares as proof of that. I need to stay as far away from you as possible. I still love you, though. I always will love you more then life itself, but you will have to find dad on your own... This is one hunt I'm not joining.
Love,
Sam
She slowly closed and folded the letter, wiping a tear off her cheek as she tucked all the letters back into the drawer. She put the false bottom back before she carefully closed the drawer and set out for class.
