Page 165 of The Truths We Burn

“Fuck, that hurts,” I mutter, turning to look at him over my shoulder with half-lidded eyes, “What did you do to me?”

He looks down at his work, something like pride swimming inside of his eyes. Then he picks up the piece from a broken Zippo. It’s just the brass lid of the lighter and I can see his initials that are engraved on it.

“Most people would call it a brand,” He mutters, “But it’s more than that.”

Something claws at my chest and lights my heart ablaze. The love I have for him eats me alive from the inside out.

“It’s us.”

Our eyes meet and even though I’m moments from passing out from exhaustion, I don’t miss how the fire in his eyes catches, the steady flame inside of them burning once again.

Relit and ready to burn for eternity.

“Yeah, baby. It’s us.”

Rook

Rook,

If you’re reading this, Frank is dead, and I have followed suit.

I’m only one sentence into this, and it’s already sappy. I didn’t even want to leave a note. I figured my suicide would be pretty straightforward.

I’m miserable without her, and knowing that her killer is in the ground has soothed something in me, but it doesn’t feel like enough.

I didn’t leave a note for anyone but you, and I need to tell you why.

First, you’re the only one my parents actually like. They’d never say it out loud ‘cause they love and support my choice in friendships. My dad still hasn’t forgiven Alistair for punching a hole in the drywall, and Thatcher gives my mother the ‘heebie-jeebies’ (her words, not mine)

But they like you, and I know that when I’m gone, you’ll be there for them. I’d like you to remind them that they did everything right.

They gave me love. A home. A life.

They did everything they could to help me with my schizophrenia, and I’m thankful for that. Tell them I love them, and this decision wasn’t made selfishly.

I genuinely believe they will flourish with me gone. After they mourn and they begin to let me go, they will feel the weight of my mental illness be lifted. No more doctors, no more scheduled medications or constant worry. They will be free.

Just like I am.

You don’t have to, but I know you willkeep an eye on Levi and Caleb. Just make sure they don’t get into too much shit, and if they do, teach them how to not get caught next time.

Thatcher and Alistair didn’t get a letter because they knew this would happen, and I think they already prepared for it.

You tried everything to deny it to yourself. To prevent it.

They didn’t get a letter because while they will grieve and hurt for my loss, they won’t blame themselves.

Not like you will.

So this is why it had to be you, because I want, need you to know this was not your fault.

It wasn’t your fault I had schizophrenia, it wasn’t your fault Rose died, and I know you’ll fight it, but there was nothing you could’ve done to prevent this.

You did everything you could, and while it was more than enough, it was still never going to be enough.

Do not punish yourself for my death. You were one of the only things that made my life worth living, and if you fuck my memory up with your guilt, I will kick your ass.

Know that I’m at peace. That I’m happy. I’m free, Rook, and I’m with her.