I will avenge Rat’s death. A life wasted to prove a fucking point.
I will take out Silas Kincaid and erase his parasitic existence.
And then God-willing, I will recapture the love of my life.
Because I know now, without a doubt, I have to let her go. I have to release her from the chains that bind me, until I’m fully freed.
That’s the only way she will emerge unscathed.
And there’s no way my angel will be forced to endure the depths of my hell. Not on my watch …
No matter how long it takes.
From: Mail Delivery Subsystem
To: Spencer Locke
Subject: Delivery Status Notification (Failure)
Date: Saturday, April 24, 2010 12:45 PM
Delivery to the following recipient failed permanently:
Dalton –
Where are you? I’m really worried. I tried texting and calling all morning, but nothing is going through. I’m hoping to get a hold of you this way. As soon as you get this, please call me. Please.
From: Mail Delivery Subsystem
To: Spencer Locke
Subject: Delivery Status Notification (Failure)
Date: Saturday, April 24, 2010 1:05 PM
Delivery to the following recipient failed permanently:
Dalton –
What’s going on? I’ve never gotten a failed delivery back from this address before. Have you deactivated your account? And if so, why am I still writing you?
I guess I’m hoping this one will go through. If it does, PLEASE let me know you’re all right. I need to know you’re all right.
From: Mail Delivery Subsystem
To: Spencer Locke
Subject: Delivery Status Notification (Failure)
Date: Monday, April 26, 2010 1:01 AM
Delivery to the following recipient failed permanently:
Dalton –
Okay…
I don’t know what’s going on, why you’re not answering my calls, or why your email seems to be rejecting my attempts to contact you. What I do know is that you would never hurt me intentionally. I know it with absolute certainty.
I told you I wouldn’t give up on you and I won’t. I will keep writing you so that when you do come back to me, I will have these letters to prove I meant what I said.
I love you, Dalton. I know you’re still out there. I feel your heart as it still beats within my chest, alive and flourishing.
You told me to trust you, and I do. With everything that I am.
And because of that, I have faith that you will come back.
Until then, I will continue to write these pointless letters. Both for you and for me because I miss you. I need you. And this is the only connection I have to you right now.
I love you. So much.
From: Mail Delivery Subsystem
To: Spencer Locke
Subject: Delivery Status Notification (Failure)
Date: Monday, April 26, 2010 7:18 PM
Delivery to the following recipient failed permanently:
Dalton –
Detective Lawson came by our house this evening. At first I thought he was coming to shed some light on your disappearance, maybe give some clue as to where you are, but sadly that wasn’t the case.
With both my mother and me present, he began by telling us Penny’s father had been found shot in the woods right outside town. While he didn’t seem terribly upset about it, he did seem worried about what would happen to Penny and her mother, and asked Mom to please let them know he would help them in any way he could.
After she agreed, he explained that the death of Penny’s father wasn’t the only reason for his visit. He sat us both down on the couch and with his eyes full of regret, he informed us Rat had been shot during the same altercation that took Penny’s father’s life. One with the infamous Silas Kincaid, your Silas Kincaid I assume, and that Rat was also … dead.
I began to cry as soon as the words left his mouth, and I haven’t been able to stop since.
I’m so, so sorry Dalton. We were all close, but you two were like brothers. I know you’re hurting, as am I. I want nothing more than to be there for you right now. To hold you and comfort you while you mourn the loss of your friend. To be your strength during this time. To erase the pain that his loss leaves behind. I would give anything to do that for you. Please know that.
I had to tell Cassie. She didn’t take the news well at all. I consoled her, trying to remain strong for the both of us. But in my consolation, I felt nothing but the bitter pang of guilt because it was you I wanted to be holding in my arms. You I wanted to reassure with my words. But once again, I was harshly reminded that you’re not here.
I know you have things you need to work out. I get that now, I’m sure this has all played a part in your absence. It all makes sense now.
Mourn, Dalton. I will be here when you get back.
I love you.
Always.
From: Mail Delivery Subsystem
To: Spencer Locke
Subject: Delivery Status Notification (Failure)
Date: Friday, April 30, 2010 2:26 PM
Delivery to the following recipient failed permanently:
Dalton –
Just a couple of hours ago, Rat and his sister were laid to rest side-by-side in Athens Cemetery. His family … God, Dalton, his poor mother. She was inconsolable, wailing and screaming that her babies had been stolen from her and how it should have been her to go first. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to witness, watching her sob into the arms of her sister as she kept shouting that no one should ever have to bury their own children. My heart absolutely broke for her.
Detective Lawson also showed up and was very kind in his condolences to Mrs. Marchione. He made it known that he would do everything in his power to take down the man responsible for the death of her children. His eyes were warm and genuine as he held her hands in his while speaking. And as I watched, I found myself mesmerized by his gentleness in dealing with her. Mom also seemed fascinated by him, but for a completely different reason I think. I think she likes him. And surprisingly, I’m totally okay with that because I like him too.
He asked me if I had heard from you, and just when I thought my heart couldn’t break anymore, it completely shattered with the mention of your name. I tried not to think about you today, to give Rat the respect of not tainting his death with more unfulfilled wishes that you would come back. But sadly, my efforts were futile. I kept expecting you to emerge from somewhere within the crowd, having convinced myself that you would be back in time to lay your friend to rest. To say one final goodbye before his body disappeared below the cold ground.
But you never showed, which pisses me off because Rat deserved better.
And as I type this letter to you, my anger continues to grow because I’m forced to recognize that a simple goodbye from Dalton Greer must be too much to ask for, even in death.
From: Mail Delivery Subsystem
To: Spencer Locke
Subject: Delivery Status Notification (Failure)
Date: Friday, May 14, 2010 5:13 PM
Delivery to the following recipient failed permanently:
Dalton –
It’s been three weeks. Three weeks. I’m trying so hard … so hard to be patient. To remain positive and optimistic. To not allow the simmering anger that festers, the fury that scorches every inch of my skin, to find its release.
But sadly, I feel I’m fighting a losing battle because with each day that passes, it urges me. It taunts me with this unfamiliar need to lose myself in rage. To punch a hole in the nearest wall in order to feel some sort of pain other than the one that cripples my ability to breathe. To cry and scream at the top of my lungs because I just don’t understand.
I don’t understand.
Why?
Three weeks, Dalton, and absolutely no word from you. No reassurance that you’re okay or even alive. I know you are though because I feel
you stirring in the depths of my soul … your presence. Your existence as you so willingly choose to disregard mine.
Am I not enough? Was I ever truly enough?
Was I not worth the battle that I so eagerly, yet so foolishly, waged for you?
I’m drowning, Dalton.
Falling victim to feelings I promised myself I would never feel again.
I believed in you. I still believe in you.
I just need something. Something from you to give me hope.
Something to ease the pain.
Just something.
Anything.
Please.
From: Mail Delivery Subsystem
To: Spencer Locke
Subject: Delivery Status Notification (Failure)
Date: Saturday, May 22, 2010 10:05 PM
Delivery to the following recipient failed permanently:
Dalton –
Well, prom was tonight. I didn’t go. Neither did Cassie.
However, while she chose to remain home and subject herself to a Project Runway marathon, I did the unthinkable. Unfortunately, I seem to be a romantic at heart because tonight, instead of wallowing in my self-induced pity—which is exhausting by the way—I put on the dress Cassie bought me. The one I was wearing when you first kissed me on my porch, after you told me that you couldn’t breathe without me.
Do you remember that? Because I sure do. It’s a stubborn memory, that one.
Anyway…
I put on the dress, curled my hair, applied my make-up, and waited. I waited for you to show up on my doorstep and apologize for not calling. I waited for you to provide some outrageous explanation for your disappearance and we would laugh. Boy, would we laugh. Then you would lean into me and whisper another sincere apology in my ear, and the warm breaths from your mouth would send a shiver across my entire body, like they always do. You would kiss my temple, then my cheek, then the corner of my mouth before taking my hand into yours and asking me if you could still be my date to the prom.
Which worked out amazingly well because I happened to already be dressed.
Your apologetic blue eyes would plead for my forgiveness, and mine would willingly grant it.
Then you would flash one of your mischievous, lop-sided grins and my knees would go weak, before finally riding off into one of our sunsets in the limo you so thoughtfully procured beforehand.
I am literally blinded by tears as I write this. Blinded by tears of insane laughter at my own stupidity. Blinded by tears of surrender as I’m forced to acknowledge that there is a very distinct possibility you aren’t coming back to me. Blinded by tears of frustration. Tears of anger. Tears of disbelief.
Tears that drown me because I am completely lost without you. So lost that I remain here, with absolutely no desire to leave this tortuous place as I continue to cry. I cling to every tear that falls because with each one shed, I find some sort of sick solace as I welcome the experience of the pain you left behind.
It’s all I have to remind me that you ever existed.
I will leave eventually, but for now, I choose to remain.
Because foolishly, I still choose you.
From: Mail Delivery Subsystem
To: Spencer Locke
Subject: Delivery Status Notification (Failure)
Date: Saturday, January 1, 2011 7:58 PM
Delivery to the following recipient failed permanently:
Dalton –
Mom took my computer away this summer. It seems she felt my incessant need to write you every day, blabbering about how angry I was with you for leaving, telling you about the pain of having my heart completely shredded into nothing because you weren’t here, all while knowing my feelings would be … undeliverable … well, she thought it would be best to break me of the habit.
This is my first letter since getting my computer back in September. She kind of had to, considering I’m taking classes at Fuller Community College and need it for school.
I know it’s a new year, but tonight I’m drowning in memories of what’s transpired since you’ve been gone.
This past summer was not easy. I was fully immersed and lost in my anger. Memories of our night under the stars, the night I gave myself to you wholly and completely, when I gave you my most treasured gift … well, I hated every evening the summer presented. Every single fucking stupid sunset reminded me of that night. Reminded me of you.
And yes, I said fucking.
I am not the same person anymore, Dalton. I’m bitter. Angry. Lost.
In fact, I am grey.
There are no colors present for me anymore. I have muted them all. Orange no longer reminds me of our many setting suns. White no longer reminds me of the twinkling lights that hung above us. Red no longer reminds me of the passion that burned so brightly between us. And blue? Well, there is no more blue. I loathe the color.
I am completely numb.
It’s hard though. Sometimes a tiny shard of feeling manages to slip between the gaps of my resistance.
Like tonight, when I feel compelled to write you.
God, Dalton.
I still miss you so much. I just … can’t.
I can’t keep doing this to myself.
Because with each step I take through my newly muted life, I still somehow cling to the hope of you. The hope that my heart wasn’t wrong. The hope that my belief in you was true.
And that hope that stubbornly insists upon transpiring? Well, it’s false. Completely and utterly false.
The notification I will receive as soon as I press send will no doubt provide a much-needed slap in the face to bring me back to reality.
My sad, fucking reality.
I can’t do this anymore.
I tried.
I’m sorry.
From: Mail Delivery Subsystem
To: Spencer Locke
Subject: Delivery Status Notification (Failure)
Date: Tuesday, April 23, 2011 11:42PM
Delivery to the following recipient failed permanently:
Dalton –
Happy birthday to me.
You want to know how I celebrated?
I boxed everything up. Every single thing that reminds me of one year ago today.
The magnetic puzzle heart in which you proclaimed how strongly we were bonded, the stupid champagne flute that I made room for in my purse by removing my very favorite perfume (!!!!), even the compass Mom gave to me from Jim. Everything is now safely stored away, never to be opened again.
The box is labeled FUDGE, just in case you’re wondering.
Code for Fuck U Dalton Greer … Exponentially.
Sorry, I needed an “E”.
Please excuse my lack of ingenuity, but I just can’t with this day.
I just can’t.
From: Mail Delivery Subsystem
To: Spencer Locke
Subject: Delivery Status Notification (Failure)
Date: Saturday, May 21, 2011 12:12 AM
Delivery to the following recipient failed permanently:
Dalton –
I had a date tonight. Or last night I guess.
It was nice.
Brandon’s nice.
Dinner was nice.
The entire evening was … nice.
So why am I sitting here, with only the light of my laptop illuminating my darkened room? Hiding the fact that I still write to you?
Because nice fucking sucks.
I want to feel what I had with you. Like a junkie, I crave the sensation. My entire body trembles for it.
I miss the surge of electricity that would resonate throughout my entire body when you were near.
I miss the fluttering of butterflies when I would see you and the rise of goosebumps that would break across my skin at your slightest touch.
I miss the soothing warmth of your familiar scent as I would breathe it in.
And I hate you for it.
You are nowhere. Yet, you are everywhere.
Your presence haunts me.
So much so, I don’t even bother sleeping with the light on anymore. Mom thinks I’m miraculously healed, but that’s not the case. Not really.
It’s the simple fact that the hurt associated with my childhood memories is nothing compared to the agony I feel now. There’s nothing a stupid nightlight can do to protect me from the pain. So every night, I shut off my light, plug in my headphones, and yield to it as I lie in bed listening to Birdy’s “Without a Word” on repeat. Because the nighttime is the only time I don’t have to pretend it doesn’t hurt. That I don’t have to paint on a happy face and act as though everything is okay. That I’m no longer consumed by my addiction to you.
Darkness has become my light as I seek comfort in it.
And in that darkness I will remain for just a little while longer.
Just a little while longer.
From: Mail Delivery Subsystem
To: Spencer Locke
Subject: Delivery Status Notification (Failure)
Date: Monday, September 5, 2011 7:52 PM
Delivery to the following recipient failed permanently:
Dalton –
Well, I survived my first day at Wilmington University. It’s a bit surreal, to be honest. To be in a new place, making new friends … no longer holding myself captive in my room as I relive our time together.
I feel as though I can breathe for the first time since you left.
I feel free.
Like I can do anything. Be anything.
It’s a good feeling.
Brandon is here too, so that makes things a bit easier.
He’s not so bad. It took him a while, but he finally managed to chip away at the angry block of ice encompassing me.
I mean, he’s not you. No one will ever be you.
But he’s Brandon. And Brandon makes me happy.
I still love you, Dalton.
I will always love you.
But I cannot continue to hold on to a ghost. To someone who just doesn’t exist.
I need to move on with my life. To be happy and free, like I used to be.
I guess I’m hoping that college will be that time for me.
Wish me luck.
From: Mail Delivery Subsystem
Under the Influence Page 17