Dear Nobody,

Yes, the day I received your letter was the day before the first exam. It was surprising to find the good luck charm, but thank you for the gift.

I too hope your exams went well.

I had no idea you had no phone, it is rare in this day and age, but I guess so are pen pals. I am glad I decided to write you back.

You have a lot of hobbies, but my mother used to say, "Idle hands are the devil's workshop." I would like to see more of your work someday. Your charm wasn't half bad.

Hmm, my hobbies? I like reading, learning new fighting styles, and, as weird as it sounds, I find cultivating cacti relaxing.

Winter Break? I suppose I will spend it with my friend and his entourage. Other than that I'll probably be home.

Music? I listened to your favorite song of the week and it isn't bad. I will list a few groups I like myself.

Voltaire – you can't go wrong there if you like upbeat music.

Ludo – they're not half bad either.

Five Finger Death Punch – Their music is amazing.

In this Moment – They have music I think you'd like.

Hey Nobody?

Do you ever feel suffocated by the people around you? I listen to them snicker and whisper, talking about things they know nothing about . . . or maybe I'm imagining it. I don't know.

Here are my questions:

What are your plans for the Winter Break?

Any movies you want to go see?

What was your favorite song this week? Or perhaps when you get this it will be different.

Sincerely,

Frustrated.


I exit the shower and wrap my hair up as I look at the bruises in the old mirror. Failing wasn't really an option to my appearance obsessed parents so anything lower than perfect warrants an MMA throw down the second we get home.

I pull on my oversized tee and limp out into the room where Haruhi sits in silence, knees pulled in and an ice pack on her cheek. A slap for 79.99% in science sent her into the recliner but her 90.00% in the rest sent her to our room after that.

I managed a personal best in math with a 68.00% and 72.00% in history. I think the damage would be less had I not hit back. The shirt hid the bruising on my upper arms and torso, but her navy eyes linger on my forearms and face.

"How's your cheek?" I ask as I take a seat next to her on her bed and it creaks with age.

"You're so stupid!" she spits as she stares at me with wide tear-filled eyes. "They've grounded you for the rest of winter break too."

"I'll survive, not like we had any killer parties to attend." I joke and stop as the ache in my side constricts the expansion of my lung. "We'll do what we always do and watch old films and have good ol' fashion sing off." I tell her and lean across her bed to pick up my camera. "Of course, we'll have plenty of photo opportunities." I snap a photo of her and then one of myself. "First rule about fight club?" I quote the film.

"Don't talk about fight club." We share a smile and that night I spent curled up next to her.


It was a few days before I could sit down and read the letter once more and I smile at each word, but it was the second part where his writing look almost messy that had my attention.

"Suffocated by the people around me," I look around the empty room and lower my head. "Welcome to my life, Frustrated." Everyone knew about our situation, but no one felt compelled to help us, just spoke about it when our backs were turned as if watching it happen and saying poor things was enough.

I wonder what his life is like to have people doing a similar thing. Strange, how I feel at peace when each new letter comes, and each new word pulled me away from this hell hole.

I write my return letter and pause as I lift my camera and prop my feet up, slippers and jammies all you can see against a photo covered wall, the corner of the desk barely visible. I shake the picture till it appears and flip it over, jotting down some lyrics from last weeks favorite song. I seal it inside and sit back my body still aching as I move.

I pickup the old mp3 and as I slip the headphones on For the Love of a Daughter continues half way through the song and I slowly get up and tug some jeans on and a loose sweater. I pull on my boots and scarf as I limp out of the house, letter tucked in my back pocket and I head to the blue mail box sitting at the corner of the street.

Not brave enough to risk more trouble by walking all the way to the post office.

I stop as I stare at the letter before I slip it in and I look up to see a group of kids from my school, two I had class with. I stand still and ignore them as they pass and their words never as painful as the fists that left the bruise.

"Someone got a bad grade again."

"I'd stay home, it's like asking for attention."

"That family never changes."

I grit my teeth and head back home.


Waiting for Haruhi to come back home from hanging out with her friends all week was boring, but today was shocking as mother and father enter my room and mom walks over to me and grabs my face, turning it side to side before checking my arms.

"You'll be presentable for school when it resumes and can go to the store on your own without causing a stir."

"Which means?" I ask, and she pats my knee.

"You're no long grounded. You should thank your sister for that." I furrow my brow as she walks back over to the old man.

"Why? What did she do?" I inquire.

"She made a few fine paintings in exchange for you to be allowed out again. As your father and I are leaving town to meet with a buyer we expect you girls to keep an eye on things. We'll be off now." Before I can respond they leave and shut the door behind them.


When Haruhi returns I am upstairs with a freshly made cake and I hug her.

"You're crazy, you know that?" I ask her as I step back and catch the breath the movement had taken.

"I needed you free from being grounded and them out of our hair when I first made struck the deal." She explains and leans against the door frame. "I know you had wanted another movie this week but," She fidgets with her pony. "Rika invited me to a party at a friend's place."

"What? You got invited to a party? A real, teen party with the red cups and everything?" I was flabbergasted.

"Yes, but I don't know if they'll have the red cups." She responds, and I jump up and down.

"They better, you have to take my camera and get some great shots." I tell her as I head toward the room.

"No!" I stop and look back at her.

"Why?" I ask, almost hurt.

"Because," she explains as she opens her arms. "I'm taking you."

My jaw drops.

A real party.

People who don't know me.

Music and drink.

We share a squeal of joy as we rush down and fish out something to wear.