A/N: Okay, this is the final chapter of my Letters fic, and I like to think that I saved the best for last. This is Johnnycake's letter, and it's the one that I personally like the most. Oh well, I'll see what you all think! And I'm sorry it took me so long to update.
Disc.: Same.
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Dear Mom and Dad,
I'm writing this because I don't know how else I can say this. If I told you to your faces, you'd probably just beat me some more. Not like that would be any different from every other time I said anything to you. I have a lot to say though, so please, just read this. For once, please do something that I ask.
First of all, I know you hate me. When I was little, I used to pretend that you loved me. I used to pretend that you only hit me because of the alcohol. I used to pretend that you only screamed at me because you were stressed. It's real easy to pretend when you're little. But then I grew up, and I knew that ya'll would never love me. It hurts to think about it; sometimes, I wanna kill myself because of it.
I was always the shy, quiet kid in school. There was nothin' special about me, and no one ever noticed me. I was lonely a lot. But when I finally did get friends, I got a little happier. They all cared about me. It was one of the first times I ever felt like anyone loved me, and it was great. But even though they were all like brothers to me, it still wasn't enough. Brothers can't replace parents. And that's what you were supposed to be; it was also what you weren't.
I got picked on a lot too. I've always looked younger than I am, and I've always been smaller than everyone else. Hell, even Pony was a little bigger than I am, and he's two years younger than me! But if I ever came home sad, you'd hit me and tell me to stop being such a fucking wimp. The one time that I came home cryin' when I was 13, you beat me with a 2x4, dad. It hurt like hell, but I didn't even think about cryin'. I was too afraid to. You weren't supposed to hit me, damnit! You were supposed to hug me and tell me that everything would be okay! That's what parents are supposed to do! They're supposed to care!
But you never did. When I came home a few months ago, beat nearly half to death by some Soc's, you just looked at me in disgust. Then you hit me again, and screamed that ya'll were sick and tired of livin' with a hoodlum under your roof. It didn't matter to you that I could barely walk straight, or that my face had such a bad cut that I would be permanently scarred for the rest of my life. Real parents would've been worried and gotten some peroxide for me, or they would've taken me to a hospital. But you didn't. Neither of you did, cause neither of you gave a damn.
I still hoped, though. I still had a little bit of hope that maybe you loved me. Dally always told me that you guys were nothin' but trashy scumbags, and that I shouldn't care about you at all. But I did anyways, because you were my parents. And that's why I hate you both; cause no matter what, I can't stop lovin' you.
Your son,
Johnny Cade
