Summary: He wants her, she doesn't even acknowledge him. Here's the events taking place in his mind.
Disclaimer: All characters, names and any other similar things are a complete coincidence and were not intentionally meant. This story is strict fiction and do not relate to the public view of any single person or group.
'Pencil sharpened and I'm at the ready to write. I no longer know why I even bother, It is not like you bother to respond, but I keep hoping that you are reading these and you are waiting for the day I come to visit you.
I ponder for a while, the whiskey I am sipping held firmly in my hand, have you ever read my letters and wondered why I write them all in pencil? Well if you had never thought of that I bet a million bucks you are now. I do it to show my love for you. My passion. See, the lead of a pencil never fades. The same for my love for you. This is what makes my letters to you more special than all that other 'fan mail' crap! I have meanings, meanings you will never know about and some I will reveal soon.'
I lick the envelope on another finished letter and place the stamp on the corner. Written in perfect penmanship is the address my letter will go to, and the person it shall be sent to. Mrs Cheryl Cole. I don't know why she has that stupid name 'Cole'. It's his. The man I envy. The one that stole my Angel away from me. But she was mine and I was going to let her see that once and for all.
'This is my second letter of the night but I feel as if I still need to get a point across to you.
I do not think you realised that I am madly in love with you.
Then again, what do you care. You are married to that worthless football player who takes you for granted. Every day. Every hour. Every minute.
He cheated on you! And you seem to not remember. Why can you just not realise he is no good?
I am the man you want! The man you desire. Yet you persist to keep his name, that curse that will haunt you forever.
But why not my name?
Cheryl Hockney.
Dreamy isn't it. I bet you wish you had it now. You can soon. I am going to come and visit you. Make you see what you are missing out on, maybe then you will realise.
WH.'
My second letter, signed, sealed and delivered. Now All I have to do it wait. My walls around me remind me of my dream. All the posters I have of her, albums and her book. And there, they lay in a neat stack on my desk. A pile of lovely brown envelopes, each one already addressed to her. The stamp ready on them. Just next to them, lay my writing instrument. A pot full of pencils and a mechanical sharpener. A pad of crisp white paper lay in the centre. Just above it a black candle and a wax seal, if anyone was to turn it upside down it would be a 'H'.
The morning arrives and I sit by my letter box, waiting for a letter back. I do this every day. Day in, day out. Yet nothing comes my way. But that does not effect me. I pick myself up, dust myself off and write you another letter. Today was no different. I patiently wait. The gate creeks open, the post is shoved through the letter box. I race to the post, throwing away the scrap. 'Pizza hut'. 'Local chippie'. 'Bill'. 'Bill'. I got through them all but I feel a letter still in my hand. It is personally addressed to me. 'WH.'
I franticly make my way back to my desk, finding the odd item out, an un-used letter opener, the one I saved for a day like today. I take my time, watching each bit carefully and make sure I do not tear the precious jewel you had so nicely dropped in my lap.
'WH,
I am trying to put this in the nicest way possible, you seem like a really nice guy. I believe there is someone out there for you, but I have found my special someone and I'm perfectly happy with Ashley.
As they say:
'We were given: Two hands to hold. To legs to walk. Two eyes to see. Two ears to listen. But why only one heart? Because the other was given to someone else. For us to find.'
I have defiantly found my perfect match and I hope you succeed in finding yours.
I hope to find this to be the last letter I receive off you as, I will admit, I am starting to find this all the more creepy.
Yours Truly,
Cheryl x'
The letter I held in my hand started to crumple up. I looked on in anger before myself. The letter fell to the floor as I jumped up in rage, tearing down everything in the room that held a memory of you. 'We were given: Two hands to hold. To legs to walk. Two eyes to see. Two ears to listen. But why only one heart? Because the other was given to someone else. For us to find,' my arse! You have my other heart and I have yours, why can't you see that?
I will never find someone else, you are mine! If you can't see that then there is something wrong with you. I will not let anyone else get you! Even if that means drastic measures, it is all in the means of love.
Either I have you or no body else can!
The gun cocked as I wedged it in the buldge of my trousers. They would never catch it there. Security performed their many checks, all I passed. My ticket had been punched and I made my way out to the toilet, my bag in hand. There I removed the gun and placed it in my bag before flushing the chain and returning to my seat.
The show was amazing. Cheryl looked even more beautiful in person, the lighting surrounding her made her look angelic. She was my angel. Mine, mine and only mine. Reaching under the seat, I found my bag and adjusted my hand to the correct position on the gun. The trigger held in my hand. Allowing myself to stand up, I revealed the gun. There were delayed reactions everywhere, gasps slowly filled the air as all four judges turned to look at me. I heard some running, obviously they were getting far out of the way. But all 4 judges sat still. Cheryl looked petrified. I do not blame her. The gun was pointed firmly at her head.
"Now what was it you were saying about finding my own love." I could see everyone cower and cringe as I walked to the judges desk, the gun still pointing at her. I can not bear to say her name any more. It just brings me pain, I can't even look at her.
My eyes held shut, I let two gun shots loose, both right behind each other. One at her and one at me. Bang! Bang! The sounds filled the air and took over my head as I dropped the gun and fell to the ground. Screams came and the sound of terror. A chorus of 'Cheryl!' Sounded. I had succeeded. Now we were both going to be re-united together at last. Both in heaven.
'The plan didn't exactly work. Apparently the gun just missed where I was aiming for and now I am on life.
It's not my fault I killed you. It really isn't. That's what you deserved. You got what you wanted.
Now I wake up smiling.
No worries in my head.
All because I know there is no one for you to find in heaven.
I know I am the only one you love now.
I succeded halfway.
'If I could not have you,
No one can.'
And they won't.
Because you will always be mine.
My Angel.
My Nightingale.
My love.
My one,
My only.
Cheryl Hockney.'
I sealed the letter again. They told me I had to write this. It was meant to be part of me showing that I felt guilty for your death. They take it off me, promise it will be put on your grave. I nod and thank them
That is all I can think to do.
The thoughts keep running through my head all night long:
'You messed with Will Hockney,
You did not live it to the next letter.
And guess what Cheryl…
You just lost the game…
Of life.'
The End