Safe

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Nov. 10

Dear Alex,

I turned around today. I turned back towards our home. I guess I've officially lost all hope. It was raining and my lips were blue and every part of me was shaking, but I kept walking because I knew if I stopped I would never start again. I reached the edge of town- the gas station I sat on the curb of a few days ago- and I collapsed beside the dumpster. The overhang was keeping me dry. My stomach cringed with hunger and I wanted so badly to eat, but I forced myself to resist. I don't deserve to eat. I am disgusted with myself for coming back.

I really am pathetic.

But then your car pulled up for gas. You hopped out and jogged over to me, pulling your hood up over your head to keep you dry.

"Carrie!" you said, and grabbed me by the shoulders and pulled me up into your arms. "Carrie," you said again, your breath warming a spot on my face. "I'm so happy I found you."

And then I started to cry. You looked for me. You wanted me. You were happy to see me, and there was nothing I could do about it. You were supposed to forget about me and move on, remember? What's wrong with you?

You lead me to the car and turned on the heat. You searched in the back for one of your old t-shirts and you turned away while I changed out of my wet clothes. I held my hands over the heaters as you started the engine.

You turned to me. "Where do you want to go?"

"Let's go to the ocean," I whispered.

You smiled. "You're still my lovely Carrie." And we drove off the way I had been walking.

Alex, you're perfect. I don't understand why you put up with me.

Love,

Carrie

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