Dear Fitzy,

Today I’ve been gone 68 days.

It took me forever to find more paper. I’m sorry these sheets are all crumpled. I have to hide them every night before I sleep. You see, we can get mail, but we can’t send it. I’ll send these to you come hell or high water. I want everyone to know the truth.

Nothing is as it seems.

I wonder what my parents are saying, what they’ve told you.

Where’s Parker?

Oh, she’s sailing the South Pacific.

She went on a community service trip to build wells for villages in Kenya.

I try not to think about Mom, Dad, and Maddy at all because I doubt they think about me. Sometimes I let myself believe they do and that they simply must not know the truth about this place. But they hear me cry. They hear me beg. So either they know and they’re monsters, or they just don’t believe me. Fuck them all. One day, they’ll pay.

I do think about you. I know you probably hate me. Just admitting that makes my mouth hurt from frowning so hard. But then I ask myself, if the situation were reversed, would I hate you? I don’t think the situation could ever be reversed. You never would’ve been here in the first place. Not just because you’re a boy scout. You’re just stronger. You would’ve fought them off when they came for you in the middle of the night. You would’ve kicked harder, screamed louder, bit so hard into the palm pressed against your mouth that you would’ve drawn blood.

Just know I tried and let the scar I know will stay on my back prove it. The rest of the scars you can’t see. But I can feel them. Everything that’s happened to me here cuts deep. I’ll never forget it. But I’m going to try.

Rebels Only.

Parker