Letters

Note: inspired from the game Noted Reality. Additionally, read at your cost because this is a psychological story, so it can be triggering.

P.S Imagine the character with the same sex as you (name is unisex).

Year 2, Month 4, Day 1

It wasn't supposed to end like this; I sit up on my stale bed, my head hanging. I tuck my hair behind my ears, observing the rusted, black walls. It's a poorly unfinished paint job, with split streaks of green and black.

I am aware of how this description introduces me as a person. Believe me when I say I have so much left to say... yet so much I didn't say yet. But why would it matter? I'm not leaving this rotten prison anytime soon.

I don't need you to understand, just stay. I want you to stay, with your presence to hopefully fill what's missing.

I hear something; a hiss, as though a note swiftly slipped through my door. The door is not of bars, but of a strong, grey door with a small slip, where light pours in, and also an opportunity to slip paper into.

I slowly get up, and trod towards the note, helplessly dragging my feet on the uneven floor.

"Dear Robin,

I didn't know where else to go.

I saw the prison, it's quite sad. For what it's worth, I'm sorry you have to go through that! I hope these letters will be able to keep you company!

Best Regards"

I partially open my lips in slight confusion, tilting my head to the side. Stop acting like you know me, I think bitterly in my head. I crumple the paper in my fist, and release my grip, and it falls to the ground with a rustle.

Abruptly, my world darkens, and I see myself, younger, running across grassy fields tall as my knees. My arms is splayed and I'm giggling, holding hands with her. My vision blurs, and then I see myself, with her.

She betrayed me.

She betrayed me.

I shake my head, trying to bring myself back, but it feels as though I'm paralysed in time. Suddenly, I snap back, touching my temples carefully.

As night dawns upon us, I'm met with another letter.

"Dear Robin,

I'm exploring the world! The beauty of nature, it's freeing me from my trauma. I wish the best for you, too, to grow in your mental health!

If I'm right, it's about night currently.

Sweet dreams and good night!

Best regards."

My eyes skip through the words, then I read it again, biting my cheeks.

An alarmingly high frequency rings in my ears, and I shut my ears off. Despite this, I hear my heart pounding in my ears, and my mind races. I blink, and my vision blurs.

"Stop. Stop it." I whisper. "You're not real. This isn't real. Stop-you don't care about me."

It takes me a moment to realise I dropped the note, and I don't bother to pick it up. I scrunch my eyes close, and I see a flash of colors in the dark. Tears forms, trailing down my nose. My mouth quirks and forcefully push myself down to the bed. The tears around my eyes stains into a stiff layer.

I wake up, my eyes wide as the moons above. It's dark, the lights across dim and flickering, lighting only the nearby floors. Across me, I spot a shadow with hanging hair, observing me closely from the dark. My mind races and my thoughts jumble, sounding like a loud audience, and I'm unable to identify any thoughts.

In fear, I try to get up, but I'm paralysed to the bed.

Get up, get up!

I can't...

Slowly the demon dances towards me, the stomping of footsteps, approaching and getting louder as it is. My chest goes faster in and out, for my heart is racing and my breath is quickening.

My vision wobbles and turns dark so abruptly, I jolt.

Year 2, Month 4, Day 2

My vision fades out in dark, and my eyelids slowly flutter open. I rub my eyes, stretching it as I sigh, trying to forget last nights events, as I hope it was just an eventful dream. Near the prison door, I see a note left for me.

"Dear Robin,

Good morning! I hope you had a good sleep and sweet dreams after all!

I understand that the prison life feels black and grey. So here is a small paint set, to color your life. We'll get through this together.

Best regards."

Under the note, is a small paint set and a paint brush.

Why... why me? What did I do to deserve this?

I glance upon the poorly patched walls with a torturing uneven amount of paint. My skills is rusty, so my grip is wobbly at first, but I paint a small red heart in the corner.

Year 2, Month 4, Day 3

Some time passes, and I've painted a bit more doodles alongside the red heart; a white cloud. I made them small, so you've got to squint to see them.

I hear a rustle; another note.

"Dear Robin,

I hope you like your paint set! I wish I could see what you have done so far.

By the way, I do believe I haven't got to introduce myself. But, why don't we try this; you guess who I am?

Note: I am not quite who I seem."

My expression is stilled, my lips slightly parted, for I am quite puzzled by what I saw. My eyebrows relax.

My expression is stilled, my lips slightly parted. I read that line again.

Why don't we try this; you guess who I am?

The line gives me a shock of excitement. It feels risky, especially the "Note: I am not quite who I seem." But I can't hide the smile creeping through. I look down, as though fascinated by the ground, hiding a shy smile behind the paper. Every time I read it, I still jolt in excitement.

This is the most company I have gotten in a while, I almost forgot what it felt like; to have another presence to reassure you.

I think of her.

The smile fades off my face. What if it is? The unknown identity knows quite a bit about me to be a stranger. I grit my teeth. I wouldn't want my only company be by her; if she's trying to apologise, I am not quite willing to accept it.

I trace her name in the air with my finger.

Chloe.

Year 2, Month 4, Day 4

I wake up, quite pained with the thought that the notes could be by Chloe. It seems as though the only possibility.

I jolt, just to snap myself out of the thoughts, but I'm taken back to another of my memories;

"It's going to be alright," Her voice softly whispering in my ears, and my breath had slowed down to her soothing voice. She carefully rested her fingers on my shoulders, stroking it softly, to calm me down. She need not say anything; her quiet empathy was the strongest support to give me.

But she betrayed me.

She betrayed me.

S̴̨̤̼̯̱͖̼̏̈́̂͒͑̚ḩ̶͓̪̜̣͕̬̖̟͎̀̚e̴̡͔̜̝͒͊́̾̊̈́̈́̚͜ ̶͍̻̟̠̊̒̅̾͗̓̂̃͘b̸̡̦̞͓̘̋͒͗͑̋̆̀̋é̷̛̠̝̞͉̗̫̗̤̓̈́͂̊ͅť̵̨̡̰̪̟͓̪̥̊̆̔͐͝r̵̦̘̲̘̺̩̋͐͊̽͆͘͝ȁ̸͚̩̽̽̑̿̌̒̄́̕y̷̨͚̣̻̪͔͍̪̹̋͂͋̄̓͒̉͘͠e̶̯̪̓̅̽d̵̮͇̑͊͗̔̎̋ ̵̗̮̆̀̿̚m̵͙͍̮̿̀̋̈̓̓̚͝e̴̡̫͕͔̺͌̓̈́̕

I'll never be that me again, the version who was foolishly betrayed and framed by you. But a soft voice, in me, chime, but she can still be good..

I care about her, okay?

I swipe that thought away, but it makes me feel guilty that I still care about the one who broke my trust.

"Dear Robin,

I have not received a letter regarding the guesses of who I am.

That is quite alright, though!

The streets have become quite empty. The city is no more a beacon of hope and light, but rather a dark city. Currently, people are passing away from a sickness and the other citizens are leaving due to the risks.

Currently, only you and I are there to keep each other company.

Stay healthy and safe!

Best regards."

I bite my lips quietly, pondering about what was just mentioned. The lights outside slowly dim, an indication to sleep. I walk to bed, and try to sleep.

Sleep did not come. My teeth chattered, and my fingertips had gone blue. I rubbed my hands vigorously in hopes to create some warmth, but it was temporary. The night was cold, the wind blowing from a nearby window was cold. A shiver went down my spine, and I balled up to keep my body warmth tightly packed.

The weather made it hard to sleep, but over time my train of thoughts slowed, as though invisible hands had gently covered my eyes, guiding me to sleep.

My body was splayed on the hill slope, the long grass tickling my arms, the trees casting a shadow across my face. Beside me, Chloe lay on her back, observing my side profile with a soft gaze.

"You know I'll always be there for you, right?"

Always.

Because we're friends.

Right?

Ȓ̵̢̛̝̐̋̓̈̕-̷̢͔̠̙͙́͗͜ͅr̴̦̗̞̰̚i̵̧̙̺̳̼̼͎͇̎́̂͂g̷͍̯̙̦̲͍͍͋̀́ḩ̸̢̢̢̺̟͔̅̐ť̷̜̠̞̝̮͇̳͑̅̊̑̎͆̈́͘̚?̶̣͚̲̦̩͚̱̟͙̑͛̍͝d

Year 2, Month 4, Day 5

"Dear Robin,

Business is quite slow. With no one to buy my cakes and accessories, I have no use of it.

I have decided to give you one of my cakes.

You deserve it, because you've gone through and withstanded a lot. I don't need to understand your story, all I know is I have to stay. I need to stay."

My gaze softens on the last few lines. I open my mouth to say something, but I quietly breath out instead. Through the letter, I can imagine her whispering the words softly in my ear, slowly, steadily. A voice with graceful simplicity.

There is a plate of food there; it's a strawberry shortcake. I haven't had an exquisite meal in a while. My eyes widen and I look at it in awe, and I take a bite.

My world spins and darkens.

Maybe it's because it's so tasty.

Wait. Oh.

Oh no.

I mix the batter violently with pure rage in my eyes. I intensely glare at the batter, you almost can't see my hand because my hand movements is so fast.

"Hey, relax." Chloe's voice chimed in my head, giggling shyly. She takes the lead and mixes the batter slowly and carefully.

"You were mixing it with such rage as though you imagined your enemy's face on it!" She laughed.

I grinned, slightly sheepish. She pulled my cheeks affectionately, tilting her head with a smile.

She was a great friend.

The food tastes just like hers, when we made a cake that day.

I feel a tear trail down my cheek.

When I wake up, I see another note for me.

"Dear Robin,

I have never felt more lonely. The hustle and bustle of this city is gone, and now I'm met with quite mornings and broken down city complexes. I'm quite afraid to leave my shop, the virus is spreading. I always see sick people walking by with dark eyebags, and I want to welcome them in.

But I can't.

The loneliness slowly eats me up. I feel as though, every time I woke up, I would feel content, I would smile and do what I love. Now, I wake up mournful.

My dreams are happier than reality.

I feel as though, the color is slowly being drained from my life. What's the point of this all anymore?

Robin, if you're there, please reply."

Year 2, Month 4, Day 6

"Dear Robin,

If you're there, please reply."

With that and the previous note, I feel quite regretful for her situation. I wish I could send a letter back. I really did. But as a prisoner, I was not allowed to, because of "potential risks."

Drip. Drip.

The note gets soggy and heavy, and tears out in particular parts, where my tears landed. I dry my blurry, teary eyes with my arms, and my tears drip down my arms.

You understand me. I agree with you. I want to say. I guess I never realised how empty I was until... until. Thank you. You deserve better than me.

I sniff. I had normalised these feelings for so long, it feels as though I forgot what love felt like. Happiness. Being content.

"Dear Robin,

I do hope things are good on your side! Things may feel hard now, but don't worry, there's a light there, and it's waiting for you! I got you a teddy bear to keep you company if you're sad.

Hopefully it will help your bad dreams!

Things are quite lonely on my side. Hopefully, this virus will end, and maybe we can meet?

I'll look forward to that.

Best regards!"

Year 2, Month 4, Day 7

"Dear Robin,

Are you there? Are you even alive?

Am I sending notes to a dead person?

Things are really lonely. I doubt I will be able to keep it up at this pace. Are you... there?

Please.

Don't let me lose you too.

I can't do this without you. Please.

Please.

I need you.

I need you"

A trail of crimson pools the note. There's splatters of red across the note. My eyes widen in shock, and I drop the note, stumbling a few steps back.

I put a hand to my mouth, and my hand is stained with blood. I gasp, and put my hand to the wall, staining the little red heart I painted.

I slide down the wall. The color in my eyes drained, tears rolling down. My hands, still stained, grabs a crumped paper on the ground. I unwrap it.

"Dear Robin,

I'm exploring the world! The beauty of nature and flowers, it's freeing me from my previous trauma. I hope and wish the best for you, too, to grow in your well being and mental health!

If I'm right, it's about night currently.

Sweet dreams and good night!

Best regards."

No. No. It wasn't supposed to end like this. "I need-I need." I choke out the words in sobs, and I bawl my eyes out.

I thought they'd be there for me. Please.

I-

My eyes fade out, and I scream desperately to stay awake, but I'm pulled into a dark world.

I need you.

It wasn't supposed to end like this.

I'm sorry.

Year 2, Month 4, Day 8

I wake up, my eyes stained with tears. I get up slowly, wishing I didn't wake up. I see another note.

I'm filled with confusion, and a little bit hope.

"Dear Robin,

This is the manager speaking. Due to a virus, all the prisoners are released to leave this town. It is no more safe to stay here anymore. You have to leave as soon as possible. Your prison door is unlocked.

Sincerely,

Mr. Hawk"

My eyes light up with hope, then my shoulders droop in disappointment. Nonetheless, I push the door open, and I see all the other prison cells, isolated. My breath gets taken away, and I put all the notes in my pockets, excluding the red-stained one. I sprint out the prison, my body feels drained and deprived of movement, so I exhaust quickly, but I keep going.

It starts raining.

The rain came down, each drop trailed down my skin and onto the ground. My shirt drenches as it sticks to my skin. My fingertips get wrinkled and numb from the heaviness of the rain, now feeling like daggers on my back.

It felt good to feel nature again, as though I was freed from the closed numbness of the prison cell.

I see a shelter, a shop with dim lights. I run into it, and I see displays of food and home made accessories; crocheted scarves and bead bracelets.

I'm in awe for a moment, but then my eyes catch it; a trail of crimson leading to a big splatter of blood on the wall. My eyes widen, and I realise; I'm in letter girl's shop.

My breathing quickens, and then I see a letter. I gingerly make my way there, my breathing getting faster as my chest goes in and out faster.

"To whoever is reading it, are you Robin? If you are, please read carefully.

I did not want it to end this way. I'm sorry.

But it's time to finally introduce myself; no, I'm not Chloe. I'm you. When I passed away, I wasn't sent to Heaven or Hell. Instead, I was sent to here.

I wrote letters to you. I had no information about you; whether you were alive or dead.

It took me time, but I realised, I'm you.

I'm not quite sure if I'm your imaginary friend or a hallucination from shizophrenia, as we both know you suffer from disorders. You suffer from PTSD.

Your flashbacks and dreams aren't fake, you're suffering from your past memories. And I'm sorry if I'm going to be one of them.

I'm sorry for breaking your heart again. I didn't want this to end.

But then...that happened. I'm not quite sure if that means I'm a reincarnation, because I don't know how a dead soul can die again. I'm sorry if this letter leaves you with doubt. But just know, your future self is there, and cares for you. So don't hate yourself.

Now, to the readers. Your "friendly" narrator has lied to you. Robin suffers from trauma of Chloe. Robin hates themself. They think they're stupid for trusting Chloe, then missing her.

Just as Robin hated themself (name is unisex, think of Robin as your gender) you cannot hate yourself, too. Robin suffered a lot. This world is beautiful. You need to know; isolation is not safety. If no one knows your alive, you're not.

Don't face the same fate of Robin. Please. Love, feel, talk. That's why you came to Earth. To risk your heart.

Best Regards,

Future Robin."