Dear Jayme. 19th Letter.

Matt 26 November 2008

It’s been three weeks and I’m shocked that I’m still alive. No one has been past this door yet other than Vivian who brings me food, that makes me even more fearful that they’ve already got to you. Jayme, please send me a note or something to tell me that you’re alive. It will be comfort to my bones. S**t, Jayme, I’ve been praying a whole lot for you. Sitting in your house with a gun is not exactly what I have in mind when I wanted to help you.

I searched your house. I wanted to see if I could find any remains of the old Jayme. The one who used to love to play with toy trains and army tanks. The one who could think of the stupidest joke ever and still make me laugh. I cried, Jay, when I found the note you left. I found your diary by it. I’ve been reading a page of it every day, just hoping I might find you in it.

I guess the only thing that keeps me going now is reliving the memories we shared. Hah, remember the times we would take the cardboard and slide down the slope of the hill? Or how we broke into school one night just because Kenny Doyle dared us to do it. Remember how you helped me ask Vivan to the school’s dance? Hah, I still smile when I recall the stupid things we do.

Vivian ask me how can I still have faith in you and why I’m still helping you. Because, Jayme, if I don’t, who will?