Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 67120 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67120 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
I licked my lips. “We were great friends. Then one day he just… stopped. Everything. All communications. I always feared that something really bad happened to him. He wasn’t the type of person to stop writing to me like that. It’s been two-and-a-half years now since I last heard from him. And of course, it’s a good thing.”
She sighed. “Well, she’s expecting you, dear.”
With that, she hung up, and I dashed to the bedroom to put clothes on.
I wasn’t sure this Dannerboll lady would appreciate my short athletic shorts, tank top, and long socks.
It was only as I was slipping into my jeans that I realized that this could be a horrible trick.
All of my friends, as well as my family, knew all about Gabriel.
I didn’t think that they quite knew the extent of my feelings for the man on the other end of the line, but they knew that I had a thing for him. One that wasn’t altogether rational.
Which would be something my asshole brother would do just to torture me.
He would so write me a fake letter to that address.
Just because he knew that I’d go running after it.
But… what if it wasn’t a joke? What if it was real?
Doubts assaulted me as I drove to the address that I’d had texted to me.
By the time that I arrived at her house about twenty minutes later, I was panting, on the verge of tears, and hoping that this was a new letter and not an old one that’d just gotten lost in the mail.
After an ungodly amount of time waiting for her to answer the door, she handed me the letter, grimaced at me, and then closed the door in my face.
I didn’t care about her attitude or her obvious dislike of meeting new people.
All I cared about was the paper envelope in my hand.
The moment I got to my car, I instantly tore into the letter.
On the outside, it only had my name and the old PO Box address on it.
On the inside, though…
My breath hitched and my breathing sped as I looked at the familiar handwriting.
Through a blur of tears, I started to read.
Sierra,
I know that this is going to come as a surprise, but I’m alive.
Almost two years ago now, I was captured and held as a prisoner of war. I was there for over two years with a few men from my unit.
You want to know the really funny thing? If you can call a case of mistaken identity funny. My friend, whom I told you that looked like me? He was apparently wearing my dog tags when they pulled him out of that hellhole we’d been kept in for all that time. When he got home, he had no memory of who he was or what had happened. So they assumed he was me since he was wearing my tags.
He lived my life for quite a while before his fiancée finally figured out that he was him, and not me. If that makes even a little bit of sense.
Anyway, when I finally came home, I was fucked-up. Still am, honestly.
After some recovery time, I am now working as a police officer.
It took me a while to get my head on straight, but now that it kind of is, I wanted to write you and let you know that I’m not dead.
I know that you would want to know.
I also didn’t remember the other address that you sent to me. The one that we used to use to communicate when you got out of your English class.
So I sent it to this one, and I’m hoping that it gets to you.
Gabriel
My breathing was choppy by the time that I finished the letter, and my eyes were misting as I slowly flipped the paper over to look for a return address. Only, there wasn’t one.
There was no return address!
What the absolute hell!
I flipped over the torn apart envelope and almost groaned.
I’d ripped right through the return address in my haste to open it.
It was on the back flap.
“Fuck!” I cried as I tried to piece it back together.
The address itself was gone.
I could make out the ‘PO BOX’ and the ‘TX’ as well as Gabriel, but the rest was doomed.
I needed help.
I drove straight for my brother’s place, barging in without knocking.
My brother was on his back on the couch drinking a beer. Louis, our cousin, was right next to him in the recliner.
“Get up!” I cried. “I need your help, STAT!”
Louis frowned and stood up, thankfully fully clothed, and looked at me.
“What’s wrong?” Louis asked, looking annoyed that I’d just barged straight into the room without knocking.
My brother sighed and placed both of his hands onto his face, groaning into them.
“She’s fucking nuts, that’s what,” Sammy muttered.
I ignored him and walked to where he was standing.