To My Dearest

Your morning ritual was the one constant left in your life. You would get out of bed moments before your alarm went off, shower, eat breakfast and sip your coffee on the terrace, check your mail, and leave for work with thirty minutes left to spare. Four moves and three states later, you were still living by this routine. You knew that you couldn't control everything in your life, despite preferring being able to, but this was something you could. 

Your breakfast, as it always did, consisted of a bagel, toasted, with a cream cheese spread, and a black coffee. Your head turns to the side as you hear the familiar sound of keys jingling. Mrs. Marrow, your elderly next-door neighbor, was leaving for her first walk of the day. 

“Good afternoon, dear! You enjoyin’ your breakfast?” She asks, sitting down in the worn-out rocking chair, methodically slipping on her running shoes.

“I sure am, ma’am! Breakfast of champions!” You respond cheerfully, holding up the last bite of your bagel. Mrs. Marrow chuckles, flapping her wrinkled hand at you as she stands up. 

“You know, you should try this egg sandwich recipe my husband has - it’s amazing! It’d fill you up more than that old bagel would, too.” 

“Maybe I will another day, ma’am. Thank you, though, I’ll keep that in mind for when I decide to switch it up!” You both knew this was unlikely. As she began her walk around the neighborhood, you began cleaning up your breakfast trash, taking just a moment to finish the rest of your coffee. You place the dishes into the sink and grab your keys, heading out the door. Humming to yourself, you made the walk down your driveway to your mailbox, a pep in your step. Standing in front of the mailbox, you slide open the door, peeking inside before grabbing the few things that were inside. 

Like you’ve done for the last three years, you began the trek back to your front door as you shuffled through the mail. Bill, bill, junk mail, save the date for your coworker Jenny, letter, bill. The letter caught your attention, the scrawled and hastily written words on the envelope making you stop dead in your tracks. Instead of dropping the mail onto the table next to the door and heading off to work like you normally did, you turned on your heel and walked to your car, your palms begin to sweat. Slipping inside the beaten up four-door car, you hastily throw the rest of the mail into your passenger side. You stared at the envelope, your breath hitching in your throat. It couldn’t be. 

Your hands were shaking as you carefully opened the letter, only one thing repeating inside your head. ‘It’s not them.’ Your eyes began to tear up as you opened up the carefully folded letter and began to read. 

“To my dearest, 

It’s been a while. Maybe you’ve forgotten about me, though I doubt that. After all of those years together, after all that we’ve been through, I can almost guarantee you remember. It’s taken me quite a while to find you after the last time; you sure can hide. You get that from your father. Your ability to run, though - that’s from your mother. And to think, you never saw them in you. 

It’s time for you to come home. I’ve finally been able to convince the Elders to let you back in after what you did the night you left. I did it for you. For us. I’m giving you another chance here, and this isn’t the first time I’ve stuck my neck out on the line for you. 

I am counting on you to make this right. I’ll be here for you after work tonight. Come back with me. I’m not asking anymore. 

Signed,

Your love.”

You threw the letter down onto your lap, sobbing into your hands. He found you. You actually thought you had gotten away from him this time. You lean back into your seat, trying to steady your breathing. Think. You had no time to cry, you needed a plan. 

You have no idea how they found you. Your last move had been your most methodical one yet; you bounced around three different states within a month, only paying in cash, never using your real name in a motel, completely adopting a new identity when you found a place to settle down. How he could have tracked you, you had no idea. 

Filled with a sudden burst of anger, you punch your steering wheel. Pain erupts from your knuckles and slithers down your wrist as you yelp and cradle your hand. A stupid decision, one you didn’t think through, and now it had backfired. Just like the ones before it. Just like the night you left. You had no plan that night and now look at you. A soft knock on the window causes you to jump, your head snapping to the side, your eyes wide in fear. 

Mrs. Marrow stood there, her face full of worry, her hand placed over her heart. You let out a shaky breath, rolling your window down quickly. 

“I...I’m so sorry, dear! I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s just that your car was still here and you’re always gone by the time I get back from my walk, so I was just wanted to check up on you. Are you okay?” Your stomach sank with the amount of worry that had filled her normally cheery voice. 

“Yeah, I’m ok, sorry for scaring you there. I was just reading this letter I had gotten in the mail, that’s all.”

“A letter? Did it say something to upset you? You’re crying.”

“It’s a letter from an old friend, that’s all. I hadn’t expected to hear from him, so I’m just remembering all that we’ve been through. Thanks for checking up on me, I appreciate it.”

You give a forced smile to Mrs. Marrow, who accepts it hesitantly. You roll your window back up as she walks back to her house, giving her a quick wave as she looks back at you before closing her door. You didn’t want her involved in this. 

Think. What was the best decision here? You could try running again, of course, but they had found you both times. If you stayed, you would be face to face with someone you hadn’t seen in years. How would he react when you told him no, that you wouldn't be going back to the camp with him. That you had actually made a life for yourself here, one that would be taken from you the instant you left. Badly, you assumed. Very badly. Trying to convince him to leave you alone wouldn’t work either; you knew the training these so-called ‘Hunters’ went through. It would just piss them off more. 

With your eyes closed, you try to calm yourself down; you can’t do much with a head filled with what-ifs. A soft knock came from your window one more, and you roll it down, preparing yourself for more of Mrs. Marrow’s questions. 

“Mrs. Marrow, I promise you I’m okay.”

“That’s good. But I’m not Mrs. Marrow.” Everything seems to have slowed down the instant you heard his voice. Your eyes snap open and you can practically feel your heart pounding out of your chest. You watch, frozen in place, as he walks around the front of your car, his hands tucked into his pants pocket, an air of confidence around him. He opens your passenger car door and you curse yourself for not locking it the moment you got in. 

“It’s good to see you. Miss me?” He slides inside the car, closing the door softly. The tension in the air was thick; you knew he was furious at you. For leaving the camp. For telling him your idea of leaving was just a silly phase. For lying to him the night you left. For saying that you loved him and then running away without another word. “You changed your hair. I guess much doesn’t change in only seven years, hm?”

“Markus, please.” 

“Stop. If you aren’t telling me you’re coming, then you’re better off not saying anything at all.” You take a brief second to study him. He hadn’t changed much since the last time you had seen him., despite that being when the two of you were nineteen. The most noticeable thing was his hair, the black now sprinkled with grey near his temples. He wasn't a far cry off from the man you once knew.

“Markus, I can’t. I… I’m happy here. I have a life here, one that I wouldn’t be able to have back at the camp. You don’t understand.”

“You’re right,” Markus snapped, shifting in his seat more so that he was facing you. You kept your eyes to him, your back on the door of your car, a million thoughts running through your mind. “I don’t understand. That night you left was the worst night of my entire life. You told me that you loved me, that you wanted to be with me, and then you were gone the next morning. You told me that you would stay as long as I was there with you. You lied.”

“I didn’t lie. I did love you, Markus, really. But I couldn’t stay there anymore.”

“Why not? You could have done it for me! I would have done anything for you, you know that?” Markus slams his fist into the dashboard, causing you to jump. The tears you had been fighting back began to well up, and you flinch as Markus brings his hand to your cheek to wipe them off, something he had done millions of times before. He doesn’t touch you. Instead, he pulls his hand back, resting it into his lap, sighing. He looks older now, the wrinkles and dark circles more apparent then they were just a moment ago. “Just...come home with me. Please.” 

For a moment, you consider it. For three years, Markus had been your safe haven in the worst place in the world. When you were with him, things were okay. You could almost imagine a future with him there. Almost. 

“I can’t. But you can stay with me here.” Markus looks at you from the corner of his eyes, shaking his head, but you can’t stop yourself. The same things you had told him days before you left began to spill from your mouth. “You could leave here with me and we could start over together. None of them would find us, not without you, you know that. I love you, Markus. Please.”

“They need me.”

“But you don’t need them. Remember when you told me about how you wanted to be a teacher? You could do that if you leave. You wouldn't have to be a soldier they send off after every run away anymore.”

“That was a stupid dream of mine. I’m doing what I do best, just like you could be doing,” Markus pauses, rubbing his face with his hand, his eyebrows knitted together in frustration. “Listen to me. When I get out of this car, you’re going to go to work. You’ll tell them you had a little car accident, you’ll go about your day, and then, you’ll come home and we’ll leave. Together.”

Markus opens the door to leave, placing his foot on the ground as you grab ahold of his forearm. 

“Don’t do this to me, Markus. I’m begging you.” Markus yanks his arm away from your grip, getting out of the car completely before bending down and staring at you. 

“Or else.” With that, he slams the car door shut and you watch as he stuffs his hands into his pockets, walking off down the road quickly, disappearing behind the row of trees in front of your house. You start the car, driving off towards your job, your mind on Markus. You had loved him at one point. When he was kind. When he would sit next to you on your porch and listen to your ideas about what the outside world was like. 

As you sat in the parking lot of your office, you realized that no matter what decision you made, you would die in one way or another. Markus would kill you if you left, and they would kill any will to live you had if you went back. Putting the car in drive, you make your decision. If they wanted you dead, they’d have to work for it.