Selfless
Disclaimer: I don't own Roswell in any way
Rating: R, for self-injury and imagery.
Word Count: Roughly 900
Summary: What if the funeral program Isabel had in her hand in "Cry Your Name" was actually a letter? Well, this is my version of the letter she'd write to put on his grave, as well as my way of coping with the things she did in the third season.
Dear Alex,
Well, the nightmares of
my ways finally hit, and now look where you are? You’re about to be leveled six
feet underground, no longer to breathe in the error of my ways.
This was never meant
to happen and it’s taken me forever to realize that you are the one I needed all
along. This is just too much. Every moment I live without you by my side or
watching you across the room constricts me of any breath I intake. I don’t know
if I can live without you to help me through my troubles or to have you shun me
again, putting me back in my place. There’s nothing I can do, that I haven’t
already done, to help make this easier.
I stare at the ceiling of
my room, thinking of what else to put down in this letter of apologies, but
there’s not much I can say without me blaming myself for this whole incident.
The fact that you’re dead because of me makes me want to throw myself off the
roof at any given moment, but I’m not courageous enough to do it. To die would
be like avenging your death and to live would be a lie, but as I said before, I’m
not courageous enough to do so. I’m sorry that I cannot be the one to avenge
your death.
Everyone thought I
was such a bitch, that I was naive to everything around me and that I didn’t
care, but you were the only one to have ever seen through that. My brother
couldn’t even have wholly figured me out like you did and that makes me happy
that someone could understand who I was and that I did not like being up on
that pedestal that the whole school put me on. I apologize again though, for
being so conceited as to not see how you were feeling. All I did was trample
your heart like cleats to a fresh dirt field, but the difference? Every step I took
made you bleed like a hemophiliac.
Every time I look out
my window, I see the stars. Those bright balls of fire hundreds of light years
away could be your eyes watching me right now. The sky could be you wearing
your favorite navy blue shirt and Orion’s belt could be the buttons below the
neckline. My favorite pastime has now become my worst fear, and the reason?
The resonance of the stars reminds me of your glistening smile, and to have you
smiling down upon me in such a cynical way makes me sick. I have no more
safety zones. You have taken them all with you.
There’s no where else
for me to run. I have no one to run from but my former self and the life ahead of
me. I know that you are going to hate me for this, but I intend to go on with my
life. I would rather have had you die angry with me than loving me, because I
am rotten inside and out, and don’t tell me otherwise. I know that you know it’s
true no matter how much you deny it.
Isabel stares for a moment at what she wrote and looks to the letter opener on
her night stand; an idea suddenly forming in her already muddled mind.
Grabbing the letter opener and a small tin from inside her drawer, she cuts her
mid-forearm, letting the blood drip into the tiny metal container. Placing a tissue
on the wound and making sure it sticks, she takes a small-tipped paint brush
from the second drawer of her night stand and begins to paint a rose on the
bottom of the note. Done with the petals of blood, she finds a green felt pen
and draws the elaborate leaves and stalk of the flower.
Even though I
cannot reach you any longer, I hope my words will somehow get to you: I love you. I hate myself for not saying those three
God-awful words sooner, but there you are. Here is also a rose of my
self-esteem and confidence for you to keep forever up there with you in the
afterlife. I will no longer need these aspects of myself, because I'm nothing. The
rose petals are my blood and stand for the involuntary sacrifice of your
bloodshed a few days ago. The green stands for envy, because I envy the fact
that you no longer have to deal with this alien shit.
In conclusion, I am
giving you every piece of me. My dignity, my sacrifice, my self-confidence, my
self-esteem, my beauty, and anything else I will not need any longer because
they all belong to you. From this day forth, until the day I die alone in a forest
and let the hunters get me or finally decide my life isn’t worth living, I am yours.
No one else will be able to get this satisfaction from me because you now claim
the rights to every element of myself.
I wish you luck in the
afterlife and no more suffering because of my mistakes and stupidity. I look
forward to the day that we reunite.
Love from an empty shell,
Isabel