A weight began to settle upon my mouth as I continued reading mundanely, almost as if I was reading a daily news feed about his feelings, before I came across something new.
"Also..." he started, his penmanship faltering its perfect lettering as if he was hesitating. "I saw that your parents often fight while you are gone at work. I'm so sorry- I apologize if I am the cause, Dove. I never want to be a hinderance in your life- I want to give you every bit of all the assurance and love that you have given me. I even..."
For a moment, my lungs quivered tightly, as if I was a string instrument and something within me had been harshly plucked.
He's... Sorry?
"Ha..." The gasp broke through my lips as I rubbed the disbelief from my eyes.
"If you were really sorry, you would stop doing this to me," I murmured out loud, almost wishing he could hear me- but deep down knowing that even if he could, he wouldn't stop.
Lost in my thoughts, my eyes lifelessly found their way to the bottom of the page, and with it, the familiar sign off was goddamn near imprinted in my brain.
"Forever yours,
Crow"
"..."
Crumpling the letter, I got up and threw it in a spare storage bin I had cleared out specifically for his letters- simply because I knew that if I threw it away, even though I had opened it, and thus through implication read it, the same letter would somehow reappear back on my porch. At a point in time, I wanted to burn the letters here and collect the ash- after all, he wouldn't be able to find them and return them to me, nor know that I destroyed them- but the mass of paper I had growing in the bin would be hard to burn indoors safely; and while for now he was a pitiful, gushy stalker, that didn't mean that I wanted to anger him anytime soon- especially not when he had it in his twisted mind that I have somehow given him 'love and assurance', and especially not if it might one day turn into evidence.
With the letter in the bin, I began the dull process of getting dressed for work and trying to tidy up my appearance so I looked like I had at least slept some- another gift I had been given by him being a terrible case of hellish insomnia.
Looking at myself in the mirror, I tried to search for whatever it was that he thought was so alluring about me. Was it the heavy, dark bags under my eyes that had only worsened in the past three months? Was it my greasy, tangled hair which I had been neglecting in my discomfort of being upstairs- my panic attacks in the face of having to take a shower upstairs, because for whatever reason, even our bathroom had a window in it?
The weight gathering around my mouth began to tremor, but I quickly shook my head and took a deep breath.
Don't cry, Carmilla I told myself. He's doesn't deserve your tears.
Sucking in a deep, steady breath, I finished getting ready and went upstairs.
At least he hasn't ever approached me.
I put on my shoes and grabbed my mom's car keys she left for me on the counter, trying to turn off my thoughts with little success.
He's probably just a coward, I tried to reassure myself.
Yet, I still found myself hesitating as I stood in front of the door- my body beginning to sweat from wearing my winter jacket indoors as the door began to feel like it was looming over me.
He's just watching. I can still leave and live my life. He's nothing.
Yet...
I'm afraid to go outside. I'm afraid to leave the false safety which is the locked door of the condo- and that fear is so much louder these days. Does he really... have such an influence on me?
Biting my lips, it wasn't until they began to bleed that I was able to stop myself before sucking in a deep breath and trying to be the rational self I had been forced to become.
I'd be more stupid if I wasn't influenced. I just have to remain level-headed about this; aware, but equally detached.
With that thought, I foolishly convinced myself I had erased the musings which had been hoarding together in my head.
Exiting the house, I told myself it was just a house- not a snow globe, not a cage. And after checking the back seats, I got into the car and started the engine; telling myself I was just driving my car to work like normal, and nothing was going to happen. At least today, he didn't want me dead- which meant he wouldn't harm me. In fact, it would make less sense for him to want to hurt me, I consoled myself. If he thinks he loves me...
Shaking my head, I muted that thought and backed out of the condo's driveway before making my way to work.
The drive was quiet- perhaps frustratingly so. How I would have killed for one, kind distraction to my rolling thoughts besides stressing about work and thinking about what he had told me about my parents fighting. I wanted, just for a little while, to think of anything but him- I wanted to win this game of tug-of-war by not sparing him even the smallest bit of my attention.
And for awhile, I was succeeding.
I got to work, began the process of restocking the shelves at the local artisan supermarket, and half-way through my late shift, hadn't spared him a single thought at all. Like a diligent solider, I wasn't having any thoughts at all. If I needed to, I could turn all my worries off and ignore the entire universe, simply moving on autopilot without a single care in the world.
It was in that fashion that the first half of my shift passed in the bright phosphorescent lights before I retired to the break room for our 30 minute break, the clock on the far wall reading that it was 9:00 PM.
"..."
Were my parents home by now? I found myself thinking, nibbling on my lips more. Are they... really fighting while I'm at work?
Fidgeting with my hands, I could feel the worry rising in a flurry in my chest- bent somewhere between relieved and stressed. On one hand, things could be so much worse than stupid love letters appearing on my porch, but on the other, knowing that this was weighing on my parent's perception of me with their already rearing disappointment that I had dropped out of school felt like a heavy burden to carry.
Would this all end soon? If they're fighting because of me...
Flinching at the sudden movement, I hadn't realized I had been staring into nothing as my most-tolerable coworker sat across from me in the back breakroom, passing me a plastic wrapped egg sandwich.
"Gosh Carmilla, why do you spook so easily now adays?" Jackie, an eccentric woman around my mother's age, chortled sitting across from me, flicking her graying foxy red hair over her shoulder as she leaned forward to take a bite of her sandwich. I tried to laugh it off as I had grown used to, but today, the weight around my mouth felt like it was especially heavy. All I could give her was a painful-looking grin which didn't meet my eyes, and while for a moment, it seemed like she would ignore it like she usually did, today, she looked around the room before taking my hand in hers.
"Is it about that stalker I heard your mother complaining about in checkout the other day?" She whispered, almost like it was taboo to speak about. Holding my breath, I almost didn't want to tell her about it- after all, she was one of those women who you couldn't always be sure you could wag your tongue to- today it was between the two of us, but tomorrow, it might very well be the next gossip between all the employees.
I didn't want to risk him somehow hearing what I thought, the paranoid side of me decided.
"Baby..." She sighed, giving my hand a tight squeeze. "I know not everyone wants to tell me things since I'm old, but I would never treat something like this lightly. Sometimes, it helps to lean on someone for a little bit and let it all out."
Looking around once more to make no one was around, she sucked in a quick breath.
"FUCK CRAZY STALKERS." She suddenly yelled, my eyes widening in shock before a small snicker perked up my lips.
"Now, baby, I want you to say it too- it'll make you feel better." Her comforting, willow-like voice was like a calming temptation- a warm escape in my life which felt like it had trapped me in a small box.
For a moment, the fear from before tried to weasel its way back into my chest as if it had been spooked out by Jackie's loud bellow, but for just a moment, I wanted to be equally fearless.
"Fuck... FUCK CRAZY STALKERS." I tried, my voice cracking slightly from raising it so suddenly, the anxiety in my chest slightly less buzzing.
"Good! Good. Sometimes if we take our problems a little less seriously, thing's won't seem so bad." Jackie told me, getting up and patting my head.
While the action was small, I felt my lungs tremble once more, relishing in the motherlike reassurance she was giving me that I didn't, until now, know I had been craving. In but a few moments, the pact I had made with myself not to cry had broken down, and I found myself being held into Jackie's chest as I let the first cries fall into pale, burning sobs. As if incited by her soft perfume and gentle rub on the back, I found myself gripping onto her clothes and venting out my thoughts like I was an erupting volcano- all the things, spiteful and pathetic, I wanted to tell and be comforted for.
"It's so stupid." I found myself saying over and over.
"What kind of stalker calls himself Crow? It makes it all feel so stupid. Like it's some neighborhood emo neighbor with a stupid crush on me."
At that, Jackie laughed, and with the rumbling of her laughter exiting her chest, I found myself laughing too.
"I wish it would stop so things can go back to normal." I confessed, sniffing back the snot which wanted to run from my nose.
"Of course you do, baby. I would too."
Frozen, my mind felt as if it was in shock for a moment before the tenseness I didn't know had invaded all my cells melted away- as if I was, for the first time in months, free from his watchful gaze. Squeezing Jackie tighter, I let out a light sigh, grateful that even if it wasn't my mother offering me her shoulder to cry on anymore, I still had someone I could talk to- just to release everything which had accumulated in my mind.
As she gave my shoulder a pat, I closed my eyes from the harsh lights of the break room and leaned away from her.
"Thank you, Jackie."
And I meant it. We were by no means friends, but I didn't have any friends since coming back from school- at least, any people who I wanted to be friends with- but it was reassuring to know that someone cared for me, even if it was a coworker.
"Of course. Let's finish stocking the shelves so we can get off early. I'll buy you an ice cream pop."
Though it felt like a childish incentive for a 25 year old, I smiled and agreed to her suggestion, focusing for the next few hours on stocking the shelves as quickly as possible.
And as promised, once we had finished, Jackie bought me an orange push pop, which I enjoyed in her company outside as she waited for her daughter to come pick her up.
Smoking a cigarette while I ate the pushpop, I found myself laughing with Jackie for what felt like the first time in months at the absurdity of my situation. And it was nice, to laugh it off. I felt so much lighter because of it- so much more free and less afraid. For thirty minutes, I waited with her until her daughter pulled into the parking lot in their old sedan, the headlights blinding my dry eyes for a moment before Jackie gave me one last hug.
"You'll be okay, Carmilla," Jackie said as she gave me a tight squeeze. "Right?"
For a moment, the weight around my mouth returned.
"I want to fall apart." Something in me said. "I want to curl up in a ball in the basement and hide from the world for a year before mustering up the strength to come back.
"Yea, I'll be alright." Is what I said instead.
Waving Jackie goodbye, I couldn't help but feel a bit jealous as I watched her and her daughter greet each other in the car before driving off; the warm escape Jackie briefly offered following after their tire tracks. It was only because I was left alone in the frigid breeze of the parking lot that I then felt aware of how tight my face was and how hollow my throat felt from all the crying and talking. Getting into my own car, I gingerly leaned my head against the steering wheel and felt the weight of everything pressing into me from all sides; my grip on the wheel growing sweaty.
The first few tears to slip out felt cold against my skin, but the last few felt warm- ticklish almost.
"I'm so... so... tired." I shuddered to myself, crushed under the weight of all my shortcomings. I had only laughed truly twice, but the corners of my mouth ached terribly; and with that ache came the realization that I didn't even smile at home like I used to. When was the last time we laughed together like Jackie and her daughter had? Was it that easy to be happy?
"..." The silence felt like it had eyes again now that Jackie was gone, and while I didn't think anyone could hear me, I still found my mouth talking to myself- spitting spiteful words into every direction as if, in that way, I could reach someone who I had no means of ever getting through to.
"This is all your fault."
I couldn't even tell who I was talking to anymore.
My voice trembled, but it felt like the words were echoing around the empty space of the car before I let out a hollow breath and started the engine. Letting out a miserable chuff, I looked at my dead fish eyes in the rear view mirror before forcing the strained muscles in my face to smile one more time, just to see what it looked like.