Dear Mom and Dad,

Things didn't have to turn out like this.

But they did, and I'm sure neither of you are too surprised. After all, this was bound to happen one day or the other. Perhaps I would've tried to escape like your other son did, but how can I, when you've locked me up in my own house for over a month? I have been a prisoner my whole life, and this was the only route left for me to escape. This was bound to happen, and the reason behind it is none but you.

What? Are you shocked? Okay, let me take you down the memory lane. It's the least I can do as your son, after all.

Mom, do you remember the time, when I was 8 years old, when you beat me with a pan because I fell on my way back from school and dirtied my white shirt? Even though we've always had a really expensive washing machine at home, which could effortlessly clean the shirt within minutes. Dad, do you remember the time, when I was 10 years old, when you came home drunk from a bad day at work, and decided to whip me with your belt for no reason at all, becuase I was the only target around? Mom, do you remember when you choked my cat, who was my only friend, just because she accidentally broke a vase in the living room? She was only 2 years old, and I was her only freind too. Do you also remember the time you pressed a hot iron against my stomach because I told you we don't have paracetamol at home and I had a fever? Dad, do you remember when you cut off my internet so that I can't take online therapy and perhaps get better? Maybe you really wanted me to die.

Well, both of you got your wish.

In fact, I have many more. Mom, you threw away all my paint supplies and most treasured artworks after I gathered the courage to tell you that I want to go to art school. Dad, you always reminded me how my brother is the only one you consider your son, because he is the only one worthy of taking over the hospital. Mom, you once said you regretted going through the pain of giving birth to someone as worthless as me, but you were drunk back then, so I can forgive you on this one. Dad, you called me a disgrace for not doing the best results at school and ruining the Castleton family's reputation. Mom, whenever you hit me, you made sure to do it where no one can see. Dad, whenever you hit me, you made sure to do it where it hurts the most. I could go on and on.

I've been keeping a track of these since I was 8, because I knew that one day, I will need a list of every single abuse I went through because of simply being born. Do you know that I have lost my memory of everything that happened to me before I was 16? It's called Dissociative Amnesia, and is often caused from severe trauma. But this list didn't let me forget of what I have gone through, and what, just like me, many kids around the world might be going through right now as we speak.

Was our only fault being born into a world that didn't welcome us? Was our only fault something that wasn't even our choice? YOU gave birth to me. If you didn't want me, why did you? If you wanted to torture me for little mistakes instead of forgiving me, if you wanted to impose your own fucked up ideologies on me instead of letting me flourish my own mindsets, if you wanted to ruin my life instead of making it beautiful, then tell me, why did you give birth to me?

They say, respect your parents. They say, disrespecting your parents will get you a free ticket to hell. I have never disrespected you, Mom and Dad. You told me to study, I did. You told me to get good grades, I did. You told me to pretend I don't exist, I did. You told me to give up my dreams and pursue yours, I did. Not once did I disrespect you. Not once did I talk back with you. Not once at all. But it was all pointless. Because I have done it now, in the last minutes of my life. Surprisingly enough, I don't care. I already know what hell looks like, what could possibly scare me anymore? God knows I tried.

Mom and Dad, did you notice I'm using these two words a lot in this letter? This is just to remind you that this is what you two were supposed to be : a Mom and a Dad. But what did you two end up becoming? Oh, I suppose I shouldn't utter the M-word here. But you get the point. Now you have a son who has ran away from home and is living afloat God knows where, and another son who has drowned himself in his bathtub. Now you're free of all responsibilities. What will you do now? Go pop a champagne. This is what you wanted.

I am writing this letter not as a suicide note, but as a reminder. This is to remind you, and everyone who is reading this letter- don't give birth to a child you can't raise with love. Don't give birth to a child if you want to pass on your trauma to them, punish them for the things you went through in the past. Don't give birth to a child if you're not going to affectionately teach them how to live, if you're not going to forgive them for their mistakes when no one else does, if you're not going to respect their wishes and opinions, if you're not going to encourage them in their tiniest achievements, if you're not going to accept that they might love someone of the same sex or feel like an outsider in their own bodies.

And finally, don't give birth to a child if you're not going to accept that they will have their own dreams that will differ from your expectations towards them.

Just don't. You're not meant to be a parent, and no one can force you to if you don't want to. You will be able to save a life that way. Isn't that better than killing one? My Mom and Dad are great examples, aren't they?

Mom and Dad, you know what? I could have forgiven you. You actually had a last chance. And that last chance was letting me pursue my true passions. Did you take the chance? No. Did you instead forced me to take the entrance exams for two years? Yes. Did you lock me in my room as a punishment for over a month after I failed both times? Also yes.

You never understood, did you? You never even tried to. You said the least I can do to repay the troubles you have went through to raise me is to lead my life the way you want it. But there are three flaws in that statement : 1) Raising a child isn't equivalent to abusing them, and is often a less troublesome option than the latter, which you could've avoided if you wanted to, and 2) If you weren't even going to ask me whether I want to be "raised" by you are not, I don't see why I have a debt over here, and 3) My life is (was) mine, and unfortunately, it's impossible for me to lead it by someone else's rules. Which is exactly why, seeing no other choice, I am ending (have ended) it.

You think I will be more successful if I follow the path you carved for me and live up to not be a disgrace. But did you ever realize, or even try to realize, that if my heart desired the ocean, no matter how much glory the sky brings me, it would never be enough?

Have you ever wondered, how maybe all I ever wanted was a simple, "I'm proud of you, my son"?

You know what, I never truly blamed for all this. A part of me understood why you two were like this. You were forced to marry each other despite of having your own loves, you didn't get along and constantly fought. Mom, I know you wanted to become a ballerina, and instead you had to take up the business alongside Dad and suddenly learn the ways of a classy family. Dad, I know your parents never asked your opinion before handing over the business to you because you were the only son. I know both of you have gone through your fair shares of pain and sorrows. I understand. I truly do.

What I don't understand, is why you didn't kill me right after I was born if you really had so many troubles of your own. Or maybe you just only needed one son, and an extra one was only causing you problems you didn't want to face. But I still don't understand, Mom and Dad. I still don't understand why you just didn't kill me if you really didn't want me. A lot of murders can easily go unnoticed, especially when you have the kind of money you do. It's a question I pondered over my whole life but still failed to find an answer to. Why do some parents give birth to a child only to slowly kill them? Is there some sort of sadistic pleasure here that I'm failing to see? Something to think about.

Either way, I guess I couldn't stay longer to find the answer to that. Maybe I would have understood if I ever grew up to become a parent. But I couldn't, like many other kids in this world. For now, let it remain unanswered, or let it be answered by the ones who will be reading this letter. I think it's time for me to end this. Maybe my birth was truly a mistake of the heavens, because the world never offered me anything, and I never offered it anything either. But my death won't be the same. With my death, I will have left this world something, given this world something in return of nothing. I think that is enough. God knows I tried. God knows I tried.

God knows we tried.

Finally, Mom and Dad, I want to let you know that for a good number of years, I loved you. The love turned to hatred at some point without me realizing. But at this point, my hatred for you is so deep that it can be probably be called love. And hence, I love you. And it's too late for you to love me.

I wish you both find your own happiness.

Goodbye.

Your son,
Rain Castleton

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I read the whole letter two times more before tearing the page into two and gently throwing the pieces into the pond, where they shrink and float away to somewhere meaningless.

My head becomes strangely empty despite all the contents I just consumed. My heart feels hollow, unable to feel each of the thousand emotions distinctly. I have too much information to process, and my brain is unable to decide which one to process first. Perhaps there is no need to process anything. There is only information that matters at this point.

He was in deep pain back then, and there was nothing I could do about that, because fate never made us stumble into each other.

He is in deep pain now, but there are many things I can do about that, because I have been given that chance, out of all the people in this world.

In all these years, I have been so far dipped in my own well-being that I couldn't tell when the person closest to my heart was silently suffering from cancer. I saw what I was supposed to see, not what needed to be seen. I made decisions I will regret till my last breath, mistakes that are too late to be rectified. There are things I will never forgive myself for, and those are the same things I will never be able to change. Because time cruelly passed me by, as quietly as a thief, before I even managed to realize what a disgusting person I am.

But now, as I'm standing here, having read the final words of a boy who nothing but suffered, but is still so selflessly working to make my life better, I realize something else. I realize that if I try, the person I am can always become a person I was.

I can't give Dawn the love I failed to give him, because he has disappeared into the folds of time, forever and evermore out of my reach. But there is another person that I am wronging today, hurting him to the point he can't stand straight anymore.. And at this moment, that person is still here, not too far away. I still have the chance to tell him everything that he deserves to hear, because time hasn't taken him away from me yet.

That's right. I can still fix this, as long as I can fix myself.

The firm determination of the voice in my head surprises even me. But with that mental declaration, what I have to do from hereon becomes crystal clear in front of me. There, over the dark little pond shimmering under the grace of the moon, my eyes project a series of questions that I have been avoiding. A series of questions that I need to confront tonight. It has to be tonight.

Because time is running out in the speed of light, and no power in this world is capable of stopping it.

So I open my eyes—really open my eyes—and see the questions hovering all around me in a perfect circle. The circle of confusion, where I have spun aimlessly for as long as I can remember. Among all the questions, only one stands there glowing in a brilliant luminosity, announcing it's importance with grandeur, as if saying, You can't ignore the brightness of the truth.

The question makes me smile.

"Do you feel the same?"

I take a deep breath and close my eyes. Isn't it obvious?

In my mind, the questions and the answers have always been sitting side by side. But my whole life, I have only stared at the questions, and the answers just remained as a blurry unfocused image through my peripheral vision. I know the answer, but I won't let myself percieve it. I know; I always do. My own feelings have never been a mystery to me. They just feel like a mystery because I avoid them, ignore them, until they eventually dissolve and slip out of my mind. Because I'm a coward. Because that's what I have been doing my whole life : avoiding my own feelings and emotions and needs and desires in order to not get deviated from the path that has been paved for me since birth.

But now that I have actually deviated from the path, my vision is being pulled by a strong magnet, to look at those answers, and to realize what I am feeling.

But I know, that what I am feeling, is also what I shouldn't be feeling.

And hence, it's as if I'm in a constant battle with myself, struggling to remain in peace under the shade of ignorance. Once I look, it's all over. Once my eyes take the photograph of the knowledge, it will never leave my mind again. It is the same as all the times I would delay looking at my marks in the exam copies just to retain the bliss accompanied by ignorance. Even if my heart would be throbbing, even if restlessness from fear would grip every vein of my body, as long as I am ignorant to the marks, I would be fine. Whether my marks were good or bad didn't matter, what mattered was not knowing what it is. Because once I look, it's all over.

Perhaps that is the reason why I am always spinning in the circle. The circle, in fact, is the circle of ignorance. As long as I am inside it, I am safe from the pain. But if I am always inside it, I would never be able to walk straight. I will never know what lies ahead.

And perhaps, that is what my friend meant by throwing away the compass. My shaky and unskilled hands would never be able to draw a perfect circle without that geometric instrument. And the more imperfect the circle is, the more my eyes will drift to the answer, the truth, the knowledge. And so, I tell myself, taking a deep breath - Cedar, no more running away. No more closing your eyes and shutting off the image. No more burying the truth in the back of your mind.

No more geometric circles. Time to draw an imperfect one.

So I finally look at the answer, and I see him.

It's him. He is the answer to everything I have been feeling. He is the key to the mystery. He is the needle in the haystack. He is the treasure chest at the bottom of the ocean. He is the marks on the exam paper.

I always knew it.

"Cedar?"

I turn my head back, and find him standing there on the shore. The pale glow of the majestic moonlight is falling on his face, highlighting his features in a ghostly beauty.

"Why didn't you come back with Tiara? Cedar, I was looking for you all around," he says, and exasperated look on his face. His hair looks like a nameless shade of brown in the faint brightness.

"Me too. I was looking for myself," I reply. In spite of the rock on my chest, there is a feathery lightness in my limbs. As if I'm floating, levitating, defying gravity.

"Huh? What do you . . . mean?" He frowns. "I got so scared when I heard Tiara say you stayed back at the waterfall. I thought you were- I was getting bad thoughts."

I let out a soft laugh and shove my hands into my pockets. "My pessimism is rubbing off on you. Don't worry, I'm fine." I will never hurt you more than I already have.

He doesn't reply, and just remains standing there, watching me, trying to figure me out. Can't he see I am at my most vulnerable state right now, as exposed as an open book? Even if he looks at me through a pair of unfocused lens, he would see through everything, as clear as the water of this pond—how deep I have fallen.

"Come here, July," I hear myself say.

And he does, taking small and careful steps. He walks over to me and stands beside me, keeping a safe distance again. The water of this pond will not wet his feet like it's wetting mine.

"Come closer."

Looking down, he takes two sideway steps towards me, until he is standing right beside. I close the remaining gap between us by joining my shoulder with his. They don't manage to touch, but doesn't matter. He moves away slightly, as if on an instinct, then rethinks his decision and comes back.

So the two of us stand side by side, but it's different than all the times we have done so before. The night is dark, and the forest is ominous, but the moon is smiling, and the waterfall is crying tears of happiness. When I turn my head to him, I expect to find him staring at the white celestial body like always, but he is staring at me.

I smile.

"There is something different about you," he says. "Even though I saw you just a few hours ago, there is something different about you now."

"Funny how so much can change in a few hours."

"Yeah." His eyes on me are observant, his face closer than what I can handle. But we keep staring at each other, as if breaking the gaze even once will break away everything we have built between us in the past 27 days within a mere second.

I wonder when it happened. When the questions arose, and when the answer appeared. When the truth I always knew turned into a lie. Or maybe it was never the truth in the first place, so it's not really a lie, but a truth that remained undiscovered until now. Or perhaps it's not a rule, but an exception. Maybe it doesn't really matter. What matters is that I know now. What matters is that I have thrown away the compass. What matters is that I am out of the circle.

And it hurts.

It hurts so much.

But it's not time to think about my hurt; it's time to think about his, because he has been in pain for too long. I turn my body to him, and he unconsciously does the same. My hands raise up to his cheeks. Though I can't touch them, I take his face into my palms, as if holding the beautiful world he has given me. My heart no longer pounds in nervousness, for there is nothing more to be afraid of. Instead, it swells up with pride, with confidence, as if telling me, Cedar, you have done well. Now you can fix this.

I smile. "Let's talk, okay?"

He nods, somewhat absent-mindedly, as though he is intoxicated by my sight as much as I am by his. He mutters, "Okay."

As we stand there in silence under the embrace of the moonlight, I discover myself in a new glow, in a new truth, in a new realm of existence. I unravel the part of me that I've been trying to bury for so long. All the questions finally answered, now I know myself better than I've ever known myself before. And then, inevitably, I am struck with a sudden realization.

I fell for him so softly.

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next chapter will have smth y'all will love ;)

— lots of love, Poma