CHAPTER 8
The post lady slides a few envelopes into my mailbox, then continues her trek to my neighbours house to deliver their mail. I continue to watch her through my curtains until she is well out of sight and quite out of the line of sight of my house.
I walk out the front, rushing to my mailbox, retrieving my letters and rushing back to the safety of my house. I flop down on my fathers favourite recliner, God bless his soul, and start by tearing open the first envelope. A quick assessment shows it is my bank statement. My last statement was six months ago now… how time has dragged. Time… there's that word again. I scan the small list of transactions, and as per usual, everything is in order. Sitting it aside, I open the next, a quick once over showing it is a letter from the bookstore in Port Angeles, informing me that my order has arrived. At least I now have more books to convert, it will at least keep my mind preoccupied. I place it on top of my statement, and pause at the next envelope. It is handwritten and smaller than most envelopes, as well as being made with bright yellow paper, not white or even brown. I flip it over, but there is no return address written there.
I peel it open gently and pull out the small pages that make up the letter. I unfold them, then re-fold them the opposite way to remove the severity of the creases. I instantly recognise the writing, so I flip to the last page and read the name there, it, like the writing is quite recognisable. Flipping back to the beginning, I read.
08/01/2016
To Isabella,
I know that this letter must be quite unexpected, it has been about four months after all. I was determined not to write, but I found I couldn't stop myself. I don't even know how I feel about that.
I suppose I should just cut to the chase here, I don't wish to take up too much of your time, but there is some things I'd like to inform you about. Firstly, I can understand your panic at your sisters unfortunate situation, but that to me isn't something that can be fixed by putting Aro in jail, he has a whole lot more family that can easily collect his payments for him. But this I am sure you have figured out already.
Secondly, I'm not sure when I mentioned that I was going to take my sentence lying down, but I already had people working for my freedom, and they did just fine without the help of my close acquaintances.
I feel I should too mention, not that it has any bearing now, that I didn't lie to you. Peter and Charlotte are my family in every sense of the word, except blood. They had taken my name as a display of love, affection, gratitude and faith.
So it should also be obvious to you that I have been released and Aro is now paying for his crimes. I'd like to point out that Peter had very little to do with that, as I said, I was working on my own freedom without having to go through the shame of those closest to me knowing I was weak and vulnerable.
I know I shouldn't have written, I'm sure I've just made things worse between us, but I wanted you to know how I felt about your actions. I've always said that I'm honest, and withholding the truth is a type of dishonesty.
Feeling confused,
Jasper Whitlock
My lips instinctually press together firmly, my teeth helping them mash impossibly closer. What on Earth was I thinking? I suppose I wasn't. Rose's stupid decision had me in a panic and I didn't think rationally about my actions. I fold it nicely and place the letter back in the envelope, this is one letter from Jasper I have no desire to re-read. I walk to my room and place it on top of the pile of letters, but instead of walking away, I re-read the whole pile, several times.
The post lady slides a few envelopes into my mailbox, then continues her trek to my neighbours house to deliver their mail. I continue to watch her through my curtains until she is well out of sight and quite out of the line of sight of my house.
I walk out the front, rushing to my mailbox, retrieving my letters and rushing back to the safety of my house. I flop down on my fathers favourite recliner, God bless his soul, and start by tearing open the first envelope. A quick assessment shows it is my electricity bill, twice as high as my last bill. Sitting it aside, I open the next, a quick once over showing it is a letter from my employer, informing me of what they will be delivering to the bookstore next month for me to convert into digital format. I place it on top of my bill, and pause at the next envelope. It is handwritten and smaller than the other envelopes, as well as being made with bright blue paper, not white or brown or even yellow. I flip it over, but there is no return address written there.
I peel it open gently and pull out the small pages that make up the letter. I unfold them, then re-fold them the opposite way to remove the severity of the creases. I instantly recognise the writing, so I flip to the last page and read the name there, it, like the writing is quite recognisable. Flipping back to the beginning, I read.
08/02/2016
To Bella,
I apologise for my last letter, the build up of my anger and frustration was sadly poured into that letter, and I'm sorry you bore the brunt of my inner anguish.
Although I pointed out the truths I feel, the depths of my despair was worse yesterday when I wrote it than it is today, or has been for the last four months, or the three before that, or the four before that, or even the nine years before that. I'm sorry I sent it to you and I'm sorry if I have hurt you, I beg for your forgiveness.
I know I should've written before now, but the last few months truly have been a whirlwind ride for me. I have some sorting out to do with my life, but I hope if I beg you enough, you will consider continuing our correspondence.
With hope and despair,
Jasper Whitlock
A sob bubbles up from my throat, relief washing over me. He really is a nice guy, I really don't deserve to have any interaction with him after I betrayed his trust, but here is yet again, proving how unworthy I am of even speaking to him. But I am far too selfish to let him go, even if he finally wakes up to my flaws, at least I knew him for a while.