Running. That's all she ever did. She ran from her feelings, from her fears, from her family, from me. The last reason hurt most of all. I couldn't understand why she would run from me, after all that I had ever done to help her. But maybe that was the point; perhaps she didn't want my help. Maybe she just wanted me to shove off and leave her be. But how could I leave her?
Hi. Hey, you. Here I am again, giving you two greetings. I always did that, didn't I? You told me once you thought it was cute. So I kept doing it. Pretty girly of me, huh?
Running. For once, it was me who was running. Unlike her, I wasn't running away; I was running to find her. I would find her and tell her everything I was holding back, everything I was hiding. I'd wrap her in my arms and never let her leave my sight again. But first, I had to reach her.
I wish I wasn't writing this. That I wasn't putting down these words onto the paper that I found in the last drawer in your desk. You're asleep right now, on the couch. We were watching a movie. I don't remember the name, but you kept laughing and saying the lines with the actors, as though you had seen it a million times. I could see in your eyes you were hiding something. Hate, probably. I screwed up, Chase. I know I did. And I'm sorry.
Running. They say it's good for you; promotes blood flow and muscle development. They say that if you start a habit of running, it will become enjoyable. Maybe that's what she was doing; forming a habit. Hoping it would become enjoyable. She always ran without second thought. She never let anybody explain. And the one thing I needed to do was explain everything to her.
I can't take back what I said. I don't even think I want to. The only thing I want to take back is wasting your time. I know all of your friends told you to ditch me, but you were so nice, you ignored them. You told them you wouldn't do anything like that. You told them you didn't care about a reputation. You lost some friends that day, Chase, and all you gained was me. Pretty lousy exchange. You should have agreed with them. You would have saved yourself the trouble.
Running. Oh, God, was I running. My lungs were screaming at me, my legs begging for rest, my side pleading to just stop the madness. But I ignored my body, pushing forward. I had to find her. I had to convince her that she wasn't the one who screwed up; it was me. It was all my fault. If I had just stopped my stupidity for a minute, I would have seen that she meant everything she had said.
If I hold onto one thing from you, it'll be the time we met at the train station. I was alone. I was tired. I was scared. But you, being you, just waltzed up to me as though we had been long time friends. After our introductions, you turned to me, your face serious, and said, "Don't you wish that giraffes could be pocket sized, so we could carry them around and be like, 'Hey, look at my pocket-giraffe!'?" I stared at you for a moment, then laughed. I hadn't laughed in what felt like forever. But you and your simple statement made me laugh so hard tears were rolling down my cheeks. You looked happy, too. But I guess you weren't really happy.
Running. My vision was blurring, the adrenaline kicking in when I saw the train station. I had to be there on time. She had to be there. I didn't stop running until I reached the ticket booth. Breathless, I asked for a ticket to where she was headed. The middle-aged man behind the dirty glass informed the entire station that it would be leaving in one minute. I didn't care. I shoved my money at him, begging to let me ride the train. Begging to let me find her. After he completely ignored me, I began to run again, praying to any god out there to let me reach her.
So here I am, Chase. I'm letting you know, I won't be a problem in your life. I won't weigh you down. I won't take away your friends, your chances of a girlfriend, your family. I know what they call me. I know the way they look at me. Like I'm an evil witch, stealing away their companion, boyfriend, son. Was I doing that? Maybe. But I didn't intend to. I just didn't want to let you go. But now, here I am, letting you go. Please forgive me. Please.
Running. It hurt so much, I had to slow down. I could barely breathe. It was like the physical action was collapsing my lungs. But by slowing down, I missed it. I missed her. The train's whistle blew, and slowly but surely, it began to move forward. I screamed at it, cursing everything for my lack of air. But mostly for failing her. The train didn't stop, and nobody heard me. It was like i didn't exist. As the train picked up speed, I spotted her in the window. It was only a second, but I saw her beautiful grey eyes red and puffy. She had been crying. Because of me. I wanted to fall over dead right there. I had done this to her. And now she was never coming back.
I'll say it only once more. I love you. And I always will.
Amy set down the letter on top of the grass, beside the headstone, her heart broken a long time ago. It had only been a week since Chase's sudden death, and in that time, she decided that she needed to leave. She needed to move on. But it was without him. The man she loved. She turned away, recalling the night that Chase had stopped her from running. He had found her writing the letter, and stopped her before she could leave. Had that only been ten days ago? Amy didn't want to think about it. It all hurt too much. Turning to leave, she felt as though someone was behind her. She ignored it, and got into the taxi that was waiting patiently for her return. Fifteen minutes later, Amy got onto the train leaving for a place far away from there. She couldn't help the tears from falling down her face, knowing full well that most people on the train were staring at her with perplexed expressions. They would never understand. They would never have to live knowing the person they loved was murdered. So she ignored them, letting herself cry until the tears stopped. At the train whistle, she leaned her head against the window, looking out, but not at anything in particular. Just looking away. As the train lurched forward, Amy felt the presence of someone intently watching her, so she looked out to the terminal. There, for only a second, she saw a figure, as tear stricken as her, looking longingly after the train. Then, after she blinked, the figure was gone, and Amy resumed her ride, not once thinking of it again.