My Dear Reader, this is a story about you. I know that you sit there alone, on the couch,on a hot summer day cooped up in a tiny house with nothing to save you from your boredom. This is where I come in. I have sent you a few letters the day before I committed suicide. It is your choice if you wish to read them or not and please if you wish not to ,to send them along to any of your numerous amount of friends, but if you do wish to read them I beg of you not to feel the sorrow between the words or the hurt in your heart. I do not want your pity so I must warn you, these letters contain when,where, how and why I took this upon myself. Who am I you ask....well I am sorry but you'll have to read to find out....

Letters for you, My Dear Reader

Letter One: Gone

"What am I going to do this summer?," you ask yourself. In your hand you hold a tiny silver cell phone looking at all the numbers at which you want to call. Should you call Victioria or Jesse? With a sigh you seal the phone with a flick on your wrist and go in the back to retrieve the rest of the chocolate cake from your mother's birthday party. Sitting down you flip open your laptop and check who's on Myspace. After sending messages about how long-winded your summer had become you begin to chomp down on the mushy lump of chocolate sitting on your plate. The phone rings and by mistake you answer it without checking to see who was calling. To late, it was your grandmother. Drowning on and on about how much she misses you and what happen to her cat you forced your head up with your hand and shut your eyes. Toning her out you think about what your going to do tomorrow with your cousin coming in from town. Are you going to have a picnic again with their newly found soul-mate because they are just so uptight and you have to fake a puke just to get away again or will you have to see another opera in the theater and gag about how much make-up they ware. Then saved by the bell the mailman had come with your correspondence. Using the mail to get out of conversation with your grandmother you hang up the phone. Wailing that 'your coming' you answer the door. Giving thanks you shuffle through the mail to see if you have anything important to read. Bills, late birthday cards,more bills, coupons, and oh what is this. You stumbled upon a blank envelope with just your address posted on the front. Curiously you open it up and begin to read....

Dear Reader,

I am aware that there is no address at which this letter came from. Please do not panic but hear about what you might be holding in your hand reading. Someone has sent you this letter after reading it themselves or choising not to waste their time therefor sending it along your way. I am not begging you to read this but if you wish to then do so without the sorrow and hurt I may cause you to feel. I will not take it as an insult if you do not want to spend your evening scamming this page because ,if I may say so myself, I am not sure if I can feel anything at this point. A few days ago before I am writing this letter I have made a very significant resolution in my time being on the planet. A series of unfortunate events had occurred in my life time therefor causing this braking point of my soul to happen or as some of you may call it "to crack'. Every human being can only take so much before the are force to dissolve in their own self pity. What I am trying to imply is that these circumstances have driven me to my death. The day that I am writing this to you is the last day or hour that I may have to live. Now if you don't care about my life story then I won't try and subdue you of your daily methods. So if you wish, you may fold up this note, seal it in the envelope, and shift it off and out of your hair. Now those of you who are curious to discover my history then I will show you the tale through my eyes. Now I know you must be wondering why is this letter sent to you. I am sure that the person reading this right now has known the Tale of Percy Jackson and the Olympians. Some of you might be writing a story about Percy's adventures or reading the others master pieces. I am sorry but I may laugh as you write about what you think or want you want the characters in this story to think and do. You my dear reader have no idea or imagination of what really happened before, in between, and after the story began. Now you maybe right. I am telling this tale in only one point of view because I only know one point of view: my own. I am not a character outside the book but a character inside this dreadful story. Now beware of several other letters coming your way. I have a story to be told and it is not a short one. Each letter you receive will have a moral to share. Now enough explaining myself and on with the information you want to know.

Love can take many forms of passion. In this story it is my father that I shared this relationship with. I was always daddy's little girl and was his ball of sunshine on those rainy days. We shared an exchange of Butterfly kisses,when two nosies touched and flapped side to side hitting the others feature, each night and day. We had little clicks or as you may call it "insiders' at which we would laugh our hearts out until each of us would shead tears of joy. Now you ask the question " Well what is wrong with this picture?". The wrong doing was that I was so caught up with laughing and playing I was too dense to see that my mother was not happy with this. I loved my mother dearly and she loved me back but it was my father that she despised of. I was a smart girl and should of know what was happening after seeing my dad complain about his back to much because he wasn't sleeping in his warm bed but the hard couch every night. It was imposable to not over hear the yelling of an argument down stairs or the thud of items being throw around in frustration. Now my dad never told a lie to me and when I asked what happen the past night he would reply that my mother and him are having a disagreemant and that it will be over soon. That night he tucked me into bed and we gave each other butterfly kisses."Goodnight" he said." Goodnight...see you tomorrow" I sang. And for the first and only time in his life my father had lied to me. He gave a nod " Sure will" then left the room. I had notice that he was not dressed to sleep that night but still wore his shirt and jeans but what really caught my eye was that he had his shoes on. I knew that on some nights he would hop in his car and drive around the neighborhood the nights my mother screamed at him. " Can I take her?" I heard my father's sweet voice ask.

" No" the sharp voice of my mom whispered.

" But she needs me"

" I said 'no' "

" Please Sarah, I beg you! She needs a fath-"

" Go, John" The then footsteps of my father echoed down the hall. I jumped up and raced to my window side. Opening the curtains I saw my dear father pick up a large suitcase and throw it in the truck. Once he shut the door his gaze fell on me. I gasped. With a sigh he drove away in tears. All he wanted was the fighting to stop. Why was he leaving the house? I didn't understand for my tiny eleven year old mind couldn't comprehend what had just happened. I pried open my door and ran out.

" Sweety" my mother called gripping my wrist.

" Mommy, where's daddy going? What happen?" I asked.

" Honey, the fighting has stop" She said. I guessed that was a good thing. That was what my dad had wanted. That was what I wanted. So then my father should be happy, right? Then I should be happy. But I still didn't understand why he had been crying when he left. If the fighting was finished than he should of given me a smile. I guess it was tears of joy running down his cheeks. The kind of tears that we shared in our "insiders". So my father was happy but why wasn't I?

Yes, I know now what had happened. He had left. Left the house with out me. Left my mother all alone to survive for herself. Left my life. And that was the last time I had seen the face of my loving father. After a years pass I had a new father. Darrel was his name and I had formed a liking toward him. Darrel had come with a new last name at which meant I had a new last name too. But why would my mom want to have another husband. I think it is funny that grown ups are suppose to be wise but yet they can't seem to make up their minds on who they wanted to love.

This is the end of your first letter but, don't be discourage because, there are more on their way. More events that are much worse then the one you have read. Worse at which in that point cause a death....but not my own. Events where trust had been destroyed by a simple mistake. Events that lead me into a love triangle. Events that broke my heart. Events that lead me here to write this letter. Events where I was driven to take my own life. So my dear reader if you are interested then review oh,please review. Review to the kind, warm hearted person who leaned me her computer to write my misfortune in and tell you all of my life, Zeusgal13. Until the next letter, the next time, the next life, enjoy your time here on earth while you can so when you read this excruciating note you will want to know more about me. Who am I, you ask, well I am sorry but you will have to keep reading my letters until the very end at which I will reveal my name ( feel free to guess if you must). So goodbye and I bid you a good day my dear reader,

yours truly, Mystery Girl