Gil, I wish you would respond

Second letter to Uncle Gil.

Dear Uncle Gil,

       It has been a while since I've sent a letter. I don't know why, but I was hoping for a response. I really miss you. I've been thinking about life in general, and I just want to say that I don't like it anymore. It hurts, and it is cruel. I see why you wanted to leave, because I feel it myself. With everything that has happened in the recent months, life seems like a joke. Every person I meet doesn't have anything to live for. They are all just so insignificant now. I can't find the beauty anymore. Mom just tells me it is part of the grieving. But I now realize, there really isn't anything to fight for. We've been fighting an uphill battle for so long that I forgot why we were fighting in the first place.

        I wish you were back to make sense of it. As you probably know, I've been getting into trouble at school. I think it is because of Jane Ready. (I didn't want to use her real name) Well, Jane is the same narcissistic, egotistical, and wretched maniac that dad was. I don't know why I even befriended her. She has an imaginary angel boyfriend. This boyfriend is thirty with a wife and kids. We are in sixth grade. I don't know much about the law, but I think it is illegal. She scares me. If I don't do as she says, her angel boyfriend will come and "rip my soul apart and feed my flesh to the bloodhounds". He is supposedly a fallen angel who has to reopen the gates to the underworld or something like that. And apparently, he needs her help because she has amazing powers. According to her, I do too and she needs my help.

        I have a hard time believing this, but with my fear of religion from my father, I have to follow along. I can't sleep now. I am so wrapped up in my paranoia, if someone even says "Hi!", I let out a bloodcurdling scream. I am always overlooking my shoulders. The only comfort I can find is in my letters. Mom is worried, but I can't tell her. Jane would do things so terrible to me. I just can't. And it is worse that Jane knows about my monsters. She knows that I see people in my bedroom or watching me from across the street. It is infuriatingly maddening. I'm just so tried of it. I've been getting sick a lot too.

        The other day, she asked me if I could bring candles and salt to school. I did. She said that on the full moon we would have to protect the classroom. I didn't really understand. So, I was told to just meet her at lunch. At lunch, we snuck into our classroom. She turned out all the lights. Jane pulled out of her backpack the candles and salt I had brought, a lighter, lemon juice, a paint brush, and red finger paint. By this point, I was absolutely dumbfounded. Jane ordered me to put salt in all the window sills and doorways. Once finished, I noticed that she had stolen my Gatorade cap and filled it with lemon juice. With her paint brush in hand and cap in the other, she painted an unusual star on every wall. I was sure she had lost her mind. She lit the cranberry-scented candles and started reading off a piece of notebook paper. I looked over, "Is that Latin?" She gave me a dirty look and continued. "Let's see those demons get in now..." , she said.

          I couldn't wait to get outside into the warm sun. I was scared out of my wits. Whatever happened back there wasn't normal. The next day, I noticed cuts on her arms. "What are those from?!?!", I was genuinely worried. Jane replied coolly, "He asked if he could borrow some of my blood for a ritual. He can only use the purest. By the way, tomorrow I will need you to bring one of those vials from your chemistry set. He needs a bit of yours too." "No, I'm not going to cut myself. He will be fine with your blood." "He knows where you live, I guess he can get it while you sleep..."

           Uncle Gil, I don't know what to do. Jane said I only have a few days to live. And I lost it. I just snapped. In a fury, I punched her in her stomach really hard, and I started beating her up. The proctors saw, and I ran to the bathroom. I sat there crying, and a bunch of girls pestered me. I waited for hours. I was in a zone, and barely noticed when the bell had rung. I ran to the classroom for my belongings. At the corner of a classroom, I waited for her to pass. She didn't notice me. By the time I had ran all the way to the bus circle I had missed the bus.

          I was a ghost for the rest of the year. I just did what she told me to do without a question. I was miserable. Throughout the entire school year, no one could figure out what was wrong. I had stopped eating, smiling, and just being myself. My counselor was frustrated because she couldn't help. This was my third one, and I still didn't trust her. Eventually, I broke down crying to her. And I explained everything that happened between tears. Miss Carrie (name changed to protect privacy) sent me to the principals' office to tell her. I was glad Miss Carrie explained it all again for me. All that was required of me was to nod my head at appropriate moments.

        They called CPS (Child Protective Services) and searched her desk, backpack, and house. Apparently, her mother had no idea what was going on. But the imaginary boyfriend was never found. In her diary, it had said that he left to another state. When I told my mother what had been happening all year, we both broke down crying relieved that it was over. The days afterward were a blur and I find myself straining to remember. I am glad that could tell you this Gil. It makes me realize how lucky I was to have Miss Carrie, Mom, and you. Thanks. Until next time, Captain Jazzy-out...