30
ALEXA KING
-Present-

Alexa King's house
October 7, 2018
1:05 a.m.

DEAR YOU,

I FELL in love with Sebby when I was fourteen. This was before I was popular, right when I was between losing baby fat and acquiring teenage beauty. My braces were removed the year before and I was starting to look like a real woman, one that causes involuntary boners.

Sebby took me to smoke my first ever blunt near the riverbank, on a rock that was next to his summer house. I remember how my heart was hammering with the expectation of doing something forbidden. When he lit the blunt and smoked some of it, he passed it to me with such an ease. Our fingers touched for a second, his rough skin rubbing against my own. I felt a fluttering in my stomach, something new to me. This moment is vivid in my mind: his shining hazel eyes looking at me as if I were special, the little smirk on his pretty lips, his neck-length dreadlocks brushing to the side, the summer house looming behind him.

He was beautiful. He was perfect. I took a drag, coughed, and then laughed as the aftereffects of the weed were settling in. This moment, this memory that might not mean much to others, marked who I am today. I took a risk that only the non-ugly, popular, bold Melody Tryniski would've taken: I kissed him without even knowing how to. He kissed me back. I remember his taste, the flavor that always brings me back to that moment. It was herbal, earthy, piney. There was tongue, biting, moaning... a sloppy nature to it that reinforced the growing fluttering between my legs and stomach.

It was my first kiss. To this day, he's the only one who knows how to kiss me properly. He knows how to kiss me the way I like. I knew then that I was head over heels in love with him. I still am. That's a feeling you just can't shake off. Believe me, I've tried. That's the effect of your first love. He was my first everything. He made me love sex, specially with him. With him, it wasn't just fucking. We made love. I can confidently say that he's the only man I've ever loved. Even more than him. And he's the only man that loves me for me. Truly loves me, as in in love with more than just my physical appearance.

To Logan, I'm just a possession. To him, I'm just an object in which he can inflict power, reinforce dominance, and transmit hate.

My heart hurts as I write this letter. The thought of not seeing Sebby ever again is too unbearable. I swear to you, whoever you are that's reading this, that I almost got up to go to the police. Then I remembered. U has eyes everywhere, there's no escaping it. Just know that the thought crossed my mind, that I wasn't surrendering to being killed. I was forced to be killed.

Do you know about my baby yet? My baby is Sebby's, I'm sure of it. It's something that I feel deep in my bones, a feeling of euphoria in my stomach. If this baby were anyone else's, I wouldn't feel this exhilarated. I wouldn't love it. I would've had an abortion. But I'm already loving this life that's growing inside of me and that means that Sebby's the father. If you're the one reading this, my love, know that I was planning to keep it. A piece of you and me existing in the world, how wonderful would that have been? It's the ultimate form of love, not just us connecting during sex.

If it's you reading this letter, Sebby, I want you to know that I would give anything to see you one last time before I die. My parents don't let me go anywhere anymore and visits are restricted. I only had the pleasure of seeing you from afar, walking nervously to my front door, only for my mother to tell you that you couldn't see me. I'm delicate, traumatized and she fears that any man who lives in Levittown could be my captor, who's still free. I wanted to scream for you. I wanted you here with me. I needed you. But I no longer have a voice. So, I have to find comfort in that last memory of you.

I'm sorry for fighting with you at the party. I'm sorry for not showing how much I love you. I'm sorry for choosing him instead of you. I hated my time with him and U. It was hell. I love you. I love you. I love you and it hurts so fucking much. I hope you have a long and happy life.

I will think of you, my love, my partner, my Sebby, when I die. I will spend my last breaths on telling the universe how much I fucking love you.

September 1, 2018

Melody Tryniski

I lower the letter with trembling hands. All the letters I've found so far are scattered on the floor in front of me, their respective envelopes beside them. My eyes skim through all of them, but neither has the emotional effect that this one provides. I can actually feel Melody saying this to me, reading it in that melancholic voice she only used when she was genuinely sad.

This letter is different. It's more intimate. She isn't being sarcastic or mysterious. Melody is stripping from her protective shield, standing raw and open for me to read. This is the complete truth, no twists or her own version of events. This is what happened with her and Seb. My heart aches for her. This letter shows that she was beyond vulnerable. It wasn't healthy to keep this all to herself.

Guilt's sharp claws scratch against my chest, its effect swirling in my upset stomach. I should've been there for her. I should've not stopped at Views to get us some snacks. Maybe if I arrived at her house a little sooner, she would still be alive. Alive with her baby, who I've not taken into consideration. Alive with the chance of being with the man she loved. It's my fault.

Logan was right -- it should have been me. Melody had so much to live for. She had a wonderful guy who loved her, a baby on the way, a successful future in whatever field she was planning to take. I don't have anything as wonderful. The guy I love possibly doesn't love me back, the only human who needs me in their life is my father, and my career in Biology is over before it even started. It should have been me.

There's something about the letter that's bothering me, a hidden truth that should've been obvious to me. Melody didn't tell me everything. I thought she did, but now I know the truth. Why didn't she tell me about Sebastián? Why didn't she ever talk about him? Of all the guys who live in Levittown, I wouldn't have guessed that Sebastián was the love of Melody's life. He isn't exactly her type, but I guess that having a 'type' was another lie.

Then, something clicks in my mind, arranging insignificant memories to paint a whole picture -- Seb and Logan's constant fighting, his reaction to the painting of him that Melody made, his questions at the party. Love, that was what he was going to say when confessing to fighting with her before she disappeared. It all makes sense now.

As in an epiphany, the memories continue to come: how Melody always brightened whenever he was around; how she laughed at all his jokes; how she talked about every guy she was hooking up with except him; how she called him Sebby; how she gave him her undivided attention every time he spoke; her constant fighting with Logan because of him.

It was in my face the entire time. I was completely clueless, but I guess that has more to do with Christopher. Like Melody with Sebastián, I was distracted by Christopher. Without knowing it, I was falling in love at the same time that my best friend was going through the same thing. The difference is, she actually noticed my falling in love. I didn't. I don't know what that makes me -- a bad friend or a girl that was convinced by her friend's incredible acting skills.

In any case, I'm still a vessel in which other's secrets can be deposit for safekeeping. I'm keeping secrets that are not mine to have. To Logan, by not telling him about their affair. To Sebastián, by not telling him that Melody left letters, one of them for him, and that her baby was his too. There's so much at stake. I can't take my chances until I know it's safe. Catching Melody's killer is more important.

The night I found Melody's body is a bit blurry in my mind. I remember the color sequence from the cop cars illuminating the front of her house, red and then blue. I remember sitting behind the ambulance, a safety blanket draped over my body. I remember this hollow feeling growing inside of me, my mind in a state of the worst kind of shock. I remember not crying, despite the pain that was throbbing inside of me.

Sebastián was there to see her dead body. He fought his way to her, screaming and crying, before he got arrested for trespassing. I never thought of that, how it might've affected him enough to fuck him up. After all, he wasn't just a friend to her. He was in love with her. He and I share the same traumatic experience of having to see her dead body.

A knock is heard, the curling of my father's forefinger as the bone taps three times against the wood. His usual knock. He finally came from his date. With my heart racing, I shove everything underneath my bed.

"Come in," I say, a tightness growing in my chest.

The door creaks a little as he opens it. He pokes his head inside, looking around to determine if he's invading my privacy, and soon comes in. There's this smile on his face that makes him look younger. He hasn't smiled like that since mom. Something special happened tonight.

"How was your date?" I say, scrambling to my feet and busying myself with the laundry on my desk's seat.

It shouldn't even be a question. If he's this late, it means it was good. His dates usually last an hour, sometimes an hour and a half. It's sad, really, because he's an extraordinary man. The best one I know.

"It was good," he says, looking at me with a little smile. "It was really good."

I turn around, arching an eyebrow at him. "I don't need to know if you had sex."

He laughs loudly, making me laugh. "Nothin' like that. No funny business. She was almost perfect, and I don't know how to feel about that yet."

If he's describing her as 'almost perfect', they definitely hooked up. Gross, but I'm happy for him. He deserves all the love in the world.

"Good," I mumble, folding a shirt I haven't used in ages. "You deserve to be happy, dad. I can't wait to meet her."

"Speaking of happiness, how's everything with you?"

I grow stiff for a moment, but mask my panic by folding more clothes. "I, um... better, I think."

"Um-hum." He walks toward me and grabs my trembling hand. "Honey, you don't have to lie to me. I want to know what's going on with you. You've been pretty distant lately."

A lump grows in my throat as I look up at him. My eyes flutter frantically, trying to quench the tears that are beginning to well up in them.

"I'm fine," I whisper, the words barely passing through the tight lump in my throat.

My body is a ticking time bomb, ready to explode. I want to tell him everything, spill all the contents that are keeping me a prisoner. But if I do, I'd be putting him in danger, just like I did with Christopher. And now he's taking some time away from me. I don't want my father to do the same thing. I don't want him to look at me differently for keeping all of these secrets, the ones that are mine and the ones that are not. He probably sees right through me, knows that I'm not telling him shit, but keeps his composure like all good therapists do.

"Are you having panic attacks again?" he says, grabbing my chin and tilting it up, as if to inspect me. "Are you dreaming about your mother again?"

My mother and Melody. I turn my head to the side and sigh. That's enough of an answer. Do I really look that miserable? How can he possibly know I'm back to my bullshit?

"Honey, you have to tell me these things. We're talking about your health here. I know there are things that you won't tell me, but please don't hide any health issues from me," he mumbles, caressing my cheek. "It's nothing to be ashamed of. You've been through a lot. We knew this was going to happen again at some point."

I shake my head, my teeth sinking on my bottom lip. "I don't want to feel this way. I hate it."

He sighs and brings me to him. "I know, honey. I know," he mumbles, caressing my hair as I breathe him in. "There's still some medication from last year. I can order another prescription tomorrow... if you want."

I nod, suddenly not finding any words to utter. I'm voiceless, just like Melody was. If it was any other time, I would've refused the pills. But I'm desperate, in need of a good night's sleep.

"I'm here for you, honey. Always," he whispers, taking my face in his hands. "Let me go downstairs real quick and bring you a glass of water to go with the medication. Is that all right?"

In his arms, I'm a little girl again. It's evident that he's using his clinical phrases, but I'm too tired to care at this point. He's just looking out for me. I concentrate on his eyes for a moment, trying to see Melody in their brown color, but I don't see her. That's a relief.

My father walks to the door and stops in front of it. "Tomorrow is your interrogation. It's at three o' clock." Fuck, I forgot. "I don't want you to stress or anything. You're a minor, so I'll be there with you. You're not alone in this, Alexa. I hope you know that."

With that, he walks away and leaves me feeling inconsiderate. Maybe I am pushing him away. The last thing I need right now is that stupid interrogation. What are they going to ask? What will they say about me? What will they want to know? What do they already know?

A sigh escapes my lips. It's too late to be thinking this much. Before my father comes up, I take my cellphone and search for Seb's contact. A simple text:

Need to talk to you. Tomorrow at 12?

•Word count: 2,557•

Yeah, I changed the cover despite saying I wouldn't do it until the Wattys were over. The one Eastwards made me is just so beautiful... I couldn't help myself.

Questions: what are your theories so far? Were you surprised by Sebastián and Melody's relationship? Did you expect that Sebastián was the father of Melody's baby (according to her, of course)? What do you think of him (the mysterious, older man) and U? What do you think about Alexa's state of mind by this point? Her conversation with her father? What do you think will happen next?

So, my schedule is really tight this semester, but I'll try to update this book once a week! I already have the outline finished, so I know where I'm headed. I'm also making plans for the second draft, which I already know will be different.

Feel free to correct any grammatical errors, but be kind about it. Tell me what you think of this chapter.

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