The Second Letter: The Bitter End of A Relationship

Following the mysterious and somewhat chilling letter I published last week, a second letter appeared on my desk again from 'Dominic' to 'Mia,' and a photograph; I've published both below. 

The story between these two people becomes clearer and is most poignant. If you know anything these people, please enlighten me... I am not sure if they are real or fictional.
N P Postlethwaite

Dear Mia

Grief is a funny thing. It rises like the strong wave of a tide and when it hits, it leaves you breathless; then it ebbs away and you forget your loss for a short time. But today the emotional pain feels more physical - more tangible somehow; I suppose it’s reminding me I’m still here.  

I want to pick up from where we left off but I know I can’t. The last few days have been a total blur; time seems irrelevant when I have no future. 

You have been so silent these last few days; I can see you’re scared by the life growing inside of you, but do you really have to look at me with such cold resentment? I can’t have that you see – I can’t have you poisoning our child with hate through your womb as she grows - poisoning our child against me. 

That is why I’ve made my decision, Mia; this has to end - whatever it is. I’ve made this decision for her, so she will never know how much you hate me for changing your life, for stalling your ambitions, and making you share me. 

I want you to be kind to our child Mia - if you’ve got it in you. I want you to love her well and tell her the good things about me and how we fell in love and were happy in the time that we had, before it all turned sour. Every time I left, I know it killed something in you, Mia, I know, but please leave that out.  

I bet you never knew I could read your feelings so well. Well, I could spot them welling up inside you before you even knew what they were. 

I know your disappointment, Mia; I know you wondered what life would have been like with someone richer, cleverer or more handsome than me - someone that was there for you all the time, who you didn’t have to share. I know you wondered how you ended up being with me, Mia. You don’t have to say it. Your silence speaks volumes. 

Yet Mia I love you. I know sometimes the most beautiful things in life are the ugliest. I’m glad to have known you and loved you, but you know this has to end, before you completely ruin me, and I you.

Dominic 

N P Postlethwaite's novel, The First Sense is now available 

Is This a Break Up Letter or Something Much More Sinister?

Today, I'm publishing an undated letter along with a photograph that was mysteriously forwarded to me this week. I'm wondering what's happened to the person that wrote the letter and the addressee. 

Is this a letter about a relationship break up, a work of fiction, or something much more sinister? I found it really sad, but it also sent a chill right through me.  I sense there is more to come. Readers, your thoughts would be valuable...
N P Postlethwaite

                                  

Dear Mia  

 

I don’t think I’ve ever written a letter, but it feels like the most natural thing to do now and easier than saying these things to you in person. The truth is, I felt us breaking away for some time, but I couldn’t gather up the pieces fast enough to put us back together again – they seemed to run, rather than fall, from my hands. All the while, you pretended everything was normal.

I’ve had a terrible pain in my chest since yesterday and I’ve taken a few of your strong painkillers, but it hasn’t gone. I think it’s heartache. You can’t take pills for that, can you? I don’t know the point where your love became resentment, Mia, but I felt the resentment behind your mask of love, and I know you blame me for cutting short your future. 

You used to greet me with such raw passion, but then I felt flames of hate burning me instead. Yet still, I can’t believe we’ve disintegrated to this wretched state. I keep thinking I can’t cry over you anymore, but I do and I’m surprised by the intensity of my tears and how they leave me feeling completely  crippled. 

I see things from a different perspective now. I see right over our relationship, what we once were, and how pathetic we’ve became. I know I can’t climb back down to where we were, especially now we’ve reached this point; too much has happened and I’m tired of all the secrets.  

I tired Mia, so tired, but I can’t sleep. I don’t know how you can lie there so peacefully, when I am utterly haunted by how you reacted to our news. I know you didn’t intend for me to know how devastated you were, Mia, but nothing you feel escapes me. How you actually felt was the final knife wound to my soul. 

Your bitterness resonates right through me, my love. Sleep escapes me, but I must try. I just want the pain to end. We’ve had our chances. We fucked them all. I’ll finish writing to you soon, but now I’m tired.

Dominic 


N P Postlethwaite's novel, The First Sense is available at http://goo.gl/m1hycJ