His car stopped. His green eyes tore from the dark park in front of him to the letters bound in a red ribbon in his passenger seat. Everytime he had looked at those letters, her elegant handwriting softly spelling his name on each, his heart had sunk to the ground. Each one was labeled with a letter. The one on top had a pretty little 1 on it, and that was the one he was supposed to read first at the park, specifically the swing set near the back of the park. It was her instructions, or more of a request that he go to each location and read each letter. He had been putting it off. He didn't want to do it. He didn't want to have to know what she had written down. She had just died, and every time someone said something to him about her, his face got red, his eyes watered and he politely excused himself. But he knew he couldn't keep putting this off forever. He took the first letter, grabbed his keys, his phone and exited his car.
The cold november chill hit him like a wall as he left his car behind. The warm interior of his car had been a place of warmth and solitude, he could ignore everyone and drive around for hours, trying to forget everything that had happened. How he had to find out she died from her parents. How she had cried for hours in his arms, and he couldn't stop the tears. He blamed himself for her death. Her parents kept telling him not to, his friends told him not to, it wasn't his fault, but he would never believe them. The park was nice and quiet as he walked through it to the swings. It wasn't far from the car park, but time lately was moving slower for him. He was caught between being stuck in denial and going through every other grieving state.
As he reached the swings, which were softly lit by the overhead pathway light, he stopped for a moment. He took a deep breath and remembered what his best friend, Louis, had told him. "You have to do it one day. You can't just ignore the letters forever." Louis was right, there was rarely a time when he wasn't right about these things. He looked around him and proceeded to sit on the swing, his hands holding the letter. He carefully broke the seal on the back and pulled out the handwritten letter.
"Dear Harry.
You're at the swings hopefully. The reason I wanted you to go here first was because here is the beginning of the story of my life, the interesting part anyway. When I was 8, and first moved to this town, this was the first place I had came that wasn't the school. This was the first place I made friends and that first friends name was Niall. You know Niall because he's your best friend. When we were 8, he was my best friend. But this place was where I had my first kiss too, with a boy named James at 12 and where James and I would sneak out to every other night and make out on these swings. At 13, I swore we were in love. I gave everything to James at 14 behind the bushes that were behind the swings, before they were cut down two years ago. James said he loved me and if I loved him, I would, even though I didn't want to. I told him I wasn't ready, I wanted it to be special, I wanted it to be romantic, but he said it was romantic. He told me if I really did love him, like I said i did, I would. So I did, because at 14, I thought that this 15 year old boy who would kiss me at night and hold my hand at school and told me he loved me in little whispers but wouldn't tell his parents about me, really did love me.
I was wrong. He didn't, I was so stupid to agree to do anything with that boy. I remember after, crying. He said it was supposed to hurt, I was supposed to bleed. He didn't even kiss me or anything, he just put his pants back on and left. I stayed behind the bushes for a good hour, just crying with my shirt pulled over my bits.
When I got home, I remember holding the phone with Niall's number on dial but I couldn't call him. I don't know why, I thought he wouldn't believe me or he'd say what James told me. I just needed someone but I was so scared. So I just sucked it up and James never talked to me again. He even ignored me. I couldn't believe it and I was so mad but I didn't know what to do, so I just kept it to myself. Niall didn't even know. I kept going back here every night for two months after. I don't know why, you'd think any smart person wouldn't go back to someplace that caused them so much pain, but I'm not smart.
For the next part, go to 2384 N. Turner Street. Then open letter 2. You can sit on the front step, the house is abandoned. Nobody will care."