Less than Perfect by S. J. Evans (love letters to the dead txt) 📕

—” she stopped herself short. Even with recalling the eerie events of the day, she was surprisingly calm. She wanted answers. That mattered more than getting upset and wallowing.
He thought about it for a moment, his face working as the wheels in his head started turning. Looking her in the eyes, he shook his head a little. “I don’t even know why, really.” He hesitated, pursing his lips. “I think it’s partially because I don’t really care what happens to me, but also because I don’t seem to have liable control over myself right now.” He took a breath. Turning himself to face her, he sat awkwardly, fidgeting every now and then. “Can I explain?”
She pulled herself into a sitting position and nodded her head carefully. “I’m all ears.”
He smiled nervously and continued. His gaze was firmly locked on her face.
“As you know, months ago, I started having issues with controlling my temper and emotions. At first, I didn’t think anything of it; I figured it was just some sort of defense mechanism, a simple reaction. But when things started to get worse and I noticed I was always having this inner battle against my own emotions, I started to think about things more, evaluate myself more. Of course, that didn’t open up enough for me and I started feeling irritated a lot more, always angry at something. So when we hung out, I had forced myself on you, pushed you around and, well—you know what started happening. I literally started losing it.
“I tried controlling myself but it kept getting harder and harder and eventually I started doing things I never thought of doing. Things like, drinking more, getting myself trashed, releasing my anger towards you, cheating

…things that normally—and usually—disgust

me. I kind of lost all of my thoughts on life and, as I know you want to put it, ruined

it. Everything was going downhill, including our relationship, and it all started because of something I must have tried blocking from my mind of. I hated—hate

—what I did to you. I put you through hell and didn’t even stop or take a minute to fix things; I just kept on hurting you, destroying

you.
“All those weeks of putting you through agony and confusion seemed to blur together in my mind, evaded by an illness I wouldn’t have imagined having, and I haven’t fully recovered from, obviously. After you broke up with me, I realized just how badly I had screwed up. I had pushed the person I loved most away, and I knew what I had done was unforgivable. I looked at myself and my life, really evaluated how things were going, and decided I needed to get help. You were right the entire time, Skye, I did need help. I just hadn’t realized how much

help I needed until I searched it out.”
He stopped to catch his breath, small tear-droplets trickling their way down his face. When he looked at Skye she seemed to stare right past him, through him, her eyes casting crystal tears down her cheeks. He continued, wiping his eyes in a futile attempt of masking his emotions.
“I went to see a psychologist, admitting to everything I had done. Practically giving him my life story, every struggle, every achievement, I had to give myself a thorough examination of every part of me. I thought about you a lot, always asking him for advice on how to handle my feelings for you. I’ve loved you the entire time. Even throughout those days when it must have seemed impossible to believe, I loved you. We talked a lot about my anger problems, too. The intense rage I would get when something didn’t go my way, the malice I exhibited so many times; and it all felt terribly wrong. He showed me small things I could do to restrain myself and hold back the urges of anger. But, like today, there are still times when I just can’t stop myself.
“It’s part of the illness, too. While I was in sessions with him I discovered why all my emotions don’t always add up. I was clinically proven with bipolar disorder, a milder case of it, but nevertheless, that’s how I am. That’s one reason I am the way I am. I sometimes can’t find a place when I can keep myself in check because of the disorder. Sometimes I don’t even feel like I’m in control of my own body—like today.
“It wasn’t until we made it to the events before I first noticed a change in my attitude that we discovered a severe problem. Three months ago, I walked in on my dad sexually abusing a young girl—a few years younger than us—in his bedroom. It was one of those wrong-place-wrong-time kinds of things, and I was the victim to it. I couldn’t even remember why I had gone into his room in the first place, but when I did, there was no turning back.”
He stopped, choking on sobs.
Skye curled herself into him, crying and shivering at the info she was receiving. Part of her couldn’t bear to listen anymore, but another part of her knew that she had to know the truth. She couldn’t have imagined everything that Bryan had told her, moments before, but when the memories settled it, she believed every word.
He held her protectively, and she wondered if he was picturing her as the girl in the horrid event that resembled a nightmare. But it hadn’t been a nightmare, and she knew that. “You don’t have to continue,” she whispered, hoarsely finding her voice. “I think I’ve heard enough.”
He shook his head, refusing to hold anything back. “You have to know everything that happened. I’m not holding anything back from you.”
Whimpering, she grabbed a hold of his hand and nodded her head, assuring him that she was ready for the rest.
“After he finished with her, he tossed her on the ground like trash and threw a sheet over her. I knew her from school, Kayla Mills, and seeing her like that after what he…did

, I couldn’t help but cry and yell at him. I was angry with him, for hurting her, tormenting her. He covered himself, and the next thing I remember was getting up in his face, shoving him and yelling at him for what he did. The girl had never left. She’d stayed on the floor, crying as she tried to cover herself, and watched nothing.
“Then my dad hit me, brutally, until I couldn’t stand anymore, could barely even breathe. She had screamed some of the time, my dad having yelled at her to shut her mouth before he suffocated her screams. He told her she couldn’t tell and it was the same for me—I couldn’t tell anyone about what he had done to me. And after that night, he would hit me a lot, angering me more and more so that I would ‘be more like him’. But I didn’t want that. So, a few weeks ago, I went to get some help.”
Bryan finished, sobs quivering from his lips. “How are you doing, Skye? I’m sorry I just, I—” he croaked. His voice wouldn’t go above a whisper.
Skye, looking up at him through blurred vision, pulled his shaking hands into hers. “I’m fine, Bryan. I—I just can’t believe you went through all that, I had no idea. You should have told the police, Bry. You know they would have arrested him. They still could, Bry.” She shivered. Her heart was hammering in her chest, anger and sadness pounding away at her body. She couldn’t believe it. All those times he hurt her, abused her, it was all a lack of control beyond his power. He wasn’t the same person she had known before, but he also wasn’t the terrible menace she thought he had become. He was just a lost boy with a tainted soul, desiring change.
He pulled her into him, heaving sobs as he stroked strands of her hair. “I’m going to, Skye. B—because, thanks to my physiatrist and you…I finally have the strength to be brave and conquer him. He’s not going to hurt anyone else, and I hate that I ever even let him.” He was no longer crying, only left with the raggedness of his breathing. His voice was heavy, deep, and sorrowful. There was no mistaking the regret he felt, it was live in the beat of his heart and air of his breathing.
“Those times when I hurt you, there was a part of me that knew I was doing the wrong thing, and there was a voice that told me not to do it. I regret losing myself and rejecting the voices, since they were so right and I was so wrong. I wish I could take it all back, pretend it never happened. But I know that closure is what’s best for me, for us

. So here I am, apologizing, asking for your forgiveness, opening up, letting you see the real

me. Because, even though I don’t want to lose you, I know that I need to set you free. And that’s what I’m going to do; I’m going to let you go. And you’ll never have to see me again.”
She whimpered, curling herself closer and closer to him. The realization had set it: she was losing someone close to her. It didn’t matter that he had hurt and abused her, though. In that moment, as she cuddled with him, after she listened to his story and found out the truth, everything from the past melted away into a black hole and she felt a connection with him. He was her friend, they had been close, and she was about to lose him. Things had changed between them, which she was sure of, but when she opened her heart to the reality of whom he’d