Vanderbilt torment ft. PRESidenT

*Warning this story contains themes of Mental Health, Substance Abuse, Physical abuse, and suicide Reader discretion is advised*

Dear Young Prezzy, 

I’m here, writing to you again. I figured this would be the best way to reach you since your Instagram DMs are probably full. And also when I come to think of it, who in 2023 still writes fan mail, well besides me? I deleted my instagram anyways; bullies, trolls and idiots kept spamming me with complete and utter garbage. Telling me that “I should end it all”, that “I’m ugly” and social media isn’t a place for me. I thought social media was supposed to bring us together, but my page is filled with unprovoked hatred and complete abuse, from those who are supposed to be my peers. I don’t understand and maybe I never will. 

I don’t want this to just be a letter of me complaining about the sadness of my life. How have you been? You haven’t posted on your social media accounts in twelve days. Twelve days is a long time to not be active. I see and watch all of your posts and stories. I watch all your instagram lives Your accounts haven’t been deactivated. I just checked five minutes ago, and everything seems to be running smoothly. Oh how stupid of me, I almost forgot you're going through a messy divorce. To be honest you were too good for Yvonne. I saw why you guys married each other. You were the Rap/Hip Hop power couple we wanted. But I guess things were too good to be true. I hope you're not harping on it. There are tons of beautiful women and instagram models who would love to call you their husband. If I was a woman and famous I would- no let me not finish the rest of that. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about me. You just mean so much to me and I want you to know I would never leave your side, and I’m with you until the very end. I hope this reaches you soon, Write back Young Prezzy.

Zeke

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Dear Young Prezzy, 

Come on, don’t leave me hanging. I’m happy to see you posting again, inspirational quotes and pictures of your kids. But it would make my day if you responded to my letter. I’m not upset, just anxious and need someone right now. You're the only one I can come to that understands me, in a deep way. Not the superficial dismissive ways my teacher’s say they do. Please just talk to me, I really need you. Things have been… hard. Worse than they normally are. 

My father’s heart was broken when he was young, and he never got it fixed. We love him dearly but that love isn’t returned. He savagely beats us, taking out his pain and feelings of unworthiness out on the two of us. One time I tried to protect her from his wrath and he really laid into me. After a certain point the bone crushing blows I stopped hearing them. They were replaced with the sloshing noise of his fists meeting the congealed blood oozing from my mouth. My adrenaline was gone, and so did my will to fight him off. The screams of my mother were nonexistent to me several moments ago. I thought I was fading, my vision was obstructed by my own swollen eyes and blood gluing them together. I could hear my own heartbeat lulling me to sleep, I was ready, finally my pain would stop. Through all the craziness, the pain my heartbeat found itself beating to the rhythm of the song “Already Won”. You remember that song Prezzy? That was on your first album you ever put out. That entire album was about how you would overcome all the adversity and the odds to achieve your destiny. I didn’t need to search that up, I knew it instantly. I crawled to my room despite the aches and pains, shuffled through my drawer, found my headphones, and played the song. You saved my life Young Prezzy I can never leave you, we are meant for each other. The perfect master and the perfect student. 

Sincerely,

 Zeke

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Dear Prezzy, 

Okay at this point I think you’re ignoring me. I sent three letters in the mail and I wrote the address on them perfectly. It has to have gotten to you. I need you to get back to me, I don't know what in the world is gonna happen to me in the future. And if you read my letters after I'm gone, you’ll feel horrible. I know you have a good heart and the PRESidenT I know would never let his fans down. Never! You always come through, since my ears first got a taste of your lyricism. 

I need a favor from you– a really, really big favor. I got rid of my enemy. My father he’s dead. I couldn’t deal with the pain anymore; my mother couldn't deal with the pain anymore. We needed a way to get out, and I stepped up and was a man. I handled business just like you would have done. Like, in your song “Die for Honor”, when you killed that dude Ernest Velle who kept hurting your older brother. I need you to agree to testify for me in court. I don’t know much about crime, the law and things of that nature, but if you tell them about what you did. And you explain what I have been going through so maybe the jury won’t send me to jail. Please get back to me Prezzy, I am counting on you. You're my only hope.

Please,

Zeke

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Dear, I don’t read no broke boys letter Presnel Royce Richland, 

I sent you letter after letter just trying to speak to you. And I get no response, not even a confirmation you received the shit I wrote. I believed in you and you let me down. Even if your conceited soul cared, I stole my uncle’s car the day before the trial. The police are looking for me, and I’m not going to jail, never will. This isn’t even my fault if you think about it. It’s all your fault you could have saved me again if you wanted to. But you chose not to, I guess there is a term limit on good deeds for celebrities. Maybe you should tell your fans that before they devote themselves to you.

“What happens when good souls are given bad circumstances? They become the hero of his story: a villain in everyone else’s. How ironic, what are the chances?” You remember that line Prezzy? That was from your grammy winning record, You could have saved me PRESidenT. You were my idol,  I would have done anything for you. And I can’t even get a simple letter back from you. After all the merchandise I bought, the records I bought with money I didn’t have, the award shows and interviews I watched on repeat. I remember all the times I defended you online and in person, the clowns who said your music was horrible and not “real music”. They’re words only emboldened me to fill the air with your lyrics and melodies. What was other’s pollution was: my air purifier. I spent every facet of my being on you. I gave my soul to be your greatest fan ever. And you can’t even give me a measly letter back thanking me for my support? When I think about it my eyes fill up with water. What a waste, I just wanted you to love me as much as I loved you, but I guess I’m not worthy of that. I just wanted recognition from my idol, but I guess I don’t deserve that.

Don’t worry PRESidenT, you don’t have to rush to get back to me. I told you that I was going to be here for you until the very end. And guess what? This is the end. I just took a fist full of Benadryll pills and I’m starting to feel drowsy. I hope you die alone in life. I hope that you feel every ounce of sadness and despair I have felt over these seventeen years of my life. I pray you experience the pain and trauma I have had to endure. And I hope you hear about my story and that it traumatizes you so deeply that you will never be able to sing a song again. I always knew I was on the slow path to self destruction. Let my song of torment play in your head nonstop

I hear the sirens coming for me. The police are on their way. I have been waiting for this day since I was ten years old. I told you I wasn’t going to jail, no matter what. 

Rest in Pain,

Zeke 

The police arrive encircling Zeke in the empty parking lot of a Walmart. The time is three in the morning but the teenage boy is wide awake. He sees these officers not as crimestoppers but as liberators. The officers command him to extend his hands up. The boy remains insolent, lunging at the officers. They shoot without remorse, bullets lacing the torso of the former fan of PRESidenT. Instantly the boy collapsed as the life he once had evaporated out of his body. The letter stained with tears lay crushed and bloodied under Zeke, never making the journey. 

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Dear Zeke, 

I appreciate you waiting, things have been hectic on my end. Trying to maintain the same quality of music while juggling the burdens of a regular person, and community outreach never gets any easier. I am always in awe of my fans and the stories they tell and really try and do my best to get back to as many as I can when I can, so don’t worry I wasn’t intentionally trying to ignore you or make you feel forgotten. I know I wouldn’t be anywhere near the height I am now without you and the others like you. 

When I was your age I was just like you. The magic of superheroes and supervillains was robbed from me at an early age. I knew that Batman and Superman could never exist, I knew being bitten by spiders didn’t turn you into Spiderman. And I knew that human beings wouldn’t survive the nuclear blast that turned Bruce Banner into the Hulk. It’s times like these that I underestimate the power of strong role models and figures who can influence and empower people. Maybe the trajectory of my life would have been different. Maybe if I had someone to confide in, the rage wouldn’t have consumed me and bled into my lyrics. 

My friend, I am sorry to hear about you and your mom. Hearing those things always breaks my heart. But, I don’t believe it was the right call to take your father’s life. I’ve realized that a hunger for revenge causes more harm than good. I hope you learn that forgiveness is both a lonely and necessary road. The story of Ernest Velle wasn’t a real story. It may have been real to you but there is no Ernest Velle. It was a concept I played around with about evil, E. Velle. Even though the damage is done you never know the path that is set out for you. Maybe you influenced and touched people in a way you can’t even fathom. 

Lastly, Zeke, I want you to get some serious help. You have suffered a lot in your seventeen years of life already. And from the looks of it there is more pain along the way. But if you take anything away from my discography and life behind the lyrics, you’ll know that the human spirit will endure where the human body fails. But, we almost must take care of our mental health and heal ourselves. There is an epidemic of mental health crises all around us. I’ll never forget hearing about a fellow collaborator's attorney mysteriously turning up dead one day. He was maimed and cut into pieces, it was one of the craziest murders to happen in the town I grew up in, Marvall. The police chased the suspect's son for days before they ended up killing him in a parking lot…. 

PRESidenT felt an eerie chill caress his neck. There seemed to be a familiarity between the new story he saw and this individual whom he was writing to. Feeling gut wrenching fear boiling inside of him. He opted to go to bed and finish the letter another time when he was more focused.