Less than Perfect by S. J. Evans (love letters to the dead txt) 📕

then offer the burdening truth of what he’d done, facing his troubles dead on. But the other part—the greater

part—wanted nothing more than to run away from his problems and seek refuge in the solitary of comfort he so desperately desired.
Part of him wanted to bask himself in Skye’s familiar, reassuring company. The only problem was . . . he knew she was in no condition to help him

, and he felt sick to his stomach just imagining the kind of turmoil she’d be going through the moment she awoke from her medicine-induced slumber.
And suddenly, like a slap in the face, he felt guilt ridden for even thinking so much about himself when there were two girls in devastatingly poor shape lying in hospital beds, while their loved ones all ached to see them feeling well again—which happened to be out of the question at the moment.
Rachel had gained consciousness for good an hour ago, and was now resting in her room with her father’s company, waiting for more information about Skye and what had happened while she was unconscious. And from her appearance the last time Victor had seen her, he could only guess she was living and breathing agony every time she tried to move.
She could use a little more company too,

Victor finally concluded. And even though he was leery about how he would act around her now—after having kissed Skye and cheated on her—he hoped it wouldn’t matter when he finally found the courage to tell her the truth. He knew she’d resent him, and he hated the idea of breaking her even more than she already was, but he didn’t have much of a choice—she had to know the truth. And he was the only one who could tell her. Properly.
To top all of that off, nestled deep in a conflicting cocoon of overwhelming feelings towards Skye, he began to realize just how much everything had changed. Skye was no longer just another girl he’d once cared about or wanted to be with; she was much more than that. She was, and meant, everything

to him now, and as much as he couldn’t stand the thought of leaving her, he decided it would be best for everyone if he left her alone.
If he up and disappeared from her life, after revealing his mistakes to Rachel, he’d be giving her a chance at forgetting. Forgetting him, and all the pain he’d caused her.
As much as it hurt him to admit, he’d screwed up. He’d ruined his chances with Skye the moment he used her best friend, and toyed with both of their emotions. And it was about time he gave up trying to win her heart when someone else already had—someone who could give her the world and save her from the pain, without wanting anything in return but her love.
His head throbbed and his chest ached, his soul filled with remorse and apprehension. That was it. He had to let Skye go. He had to tell Rachel the truth, and vanish, never to be seen again. It was the only way to fix the things he’d broken, and make up for what he’d done.
And he was just about to get up from his slouched position on the uncomfortable, rickety seat, when Jules stepped out of the ER, hobbling on one leg. His stomach lurched at the sight of Jules’s battered, stricken face, and the heaviness of exhaustion that splayed across his appearance. He was in terrible shape.
Waving him over, Victor sat up straighter and called, “How are you feeling, bud?”
A small, lopsided smile perched on Jules’s face, and he said, “Just peachy. It’s not every day you have to go to the ER because you were stabbed in the leg and almost strangled to death.”
Despite himself, Victor chuckled. “Big day, huh?”
“Grand,” Jules remarked, sagging down into the seat next to Victor. He turned so that he was facing his friend, sighing. “May I be honest with you?”
“I’d sure hope so.” Victor forced a small smile on his face. “Shoot.”
“I feel terrible.” Jules ran a distressed hand through his hair. “I . . . I just can’t stop worrying about Skye. I mean—I just—I want to see her. I want to know she’s going to be okay. And it kills me not knowing how she is, or how she will be.” His voice lowered to a whisper as he added, “I just want to be able to hold her, tell her everything’s going to be okay, and really, truly mean it.”
“I know,” Victor agreed, quietly. “I feel the same way. I just want her to feel happy again.”
“You really do care for her, don’t you?”
“I do.” Victor sighed, and shook his head. “She’s an amazing girl. But don’t worry about me; I’m not going to bother the two of you anymore.” From the look of confusion on Jules’s face, he knew he had to clear things up. “I’m heading out of town. I’m going to go back to my hometown, try to find a job, and get my life back on track. Things changed when I moved back here a few years ago. I lost connections with my family, my friends, and even just about lost myself all together. So, even if it may be difficult to leave everything from here behind, I know it’s what I have to do. It’ll be best for everyone if I take off.”
Jules’s brows furrowed together, and he shook his head as if trying to register Victor’s words. “Are you sure you want to do that, Vic? You don’t have to go; no one wants you to leave.”
Victor shifted uncomfortably in his seat, averting his gaze, and staring at a spot of dirt on the smooth surface of the white flooring. “I want to leave,” he said softly, struggling to get the words out. His voice cracked, and his throat suddenly felt too dry. “I mean—don’t get me wrong . . . I love it here. But—at the same time—I know in my heart that it’s time for me to leave. I need to find myself again, and figure out exactly what I want to do. I’m too old to be so far behind with figuring myself out.”
As the last words he’d spoken left his lips, the weight on his heart lightened, and he felt an air of relief flood through him. He smiled a little, and pulled his head up, forcing himself to ban the pressures of his throbbing head. He knew he’d miss Skye, deeply. And he also knew he’d still stop by to see her once more to say goodbye, just as he would Rachel. But it didn’t alter his decision in the slightest. He knew where he wanted to go, and what he wanted to do. He, after days of burdens and fears, finally felt comfortable in his own skin again. And he was ready to take on the world he had ahead of him.
Jules was silent for a few long moments, unsure of what to say. When he finally spoke again, there was a small smile on his face, and his weary, pale eyes brightened as he looked his good friend in the eyes. “You old

man,” he teased, stripping away the seriousness of their conversation. “What are you getting at now? The dangerous Three-O?” He pressed a hand against his heart, and then pressed his lips into a sad smile for added dramatic affect. “We’ve had a few good times together, my friend. Don’t forget about me now, oldie.”
Victor laughed, only briefly, considering the foreboding circumstances of the situations around the two of them, and brought himself to his feet. “I hate to break it to you, but last time I checked, nineteen wasn’t anywhere near ‘the big three O’. But thanks for the support, kid. I’ll take it to heart.” He watched as Jules stood his own ground, shaking his head. “And don’t you worry your pretty little head off about this—we’ll meet again someday.”
Jules chuckled, slapping his friend on the back. “Least of my worries,” he said, rubbing a hand over his face. “Thanks for the good times, Vic. Keep in touch, and let me know when you get home safely. It’s going to be strange without you here. Just try not to have too much fun

finding who you are, okay?” He grinned, although it looked a little tight and awkward on his battered face. “We wouldn’t want you to overwhelm yourself now, would we?”
“Trust me, Jules,” Victor said, and he strained to keep himself from crumbling under the reality that he was going to leave everyone behind soon. “I’ll keep out of trouble. No more screw-ups like I’ve made here. It’ll be a fresh start.”
“Aw, you sound so soft,” Jules cooed, tauntingly. “That’s my boy.” He set his hand on Victor’s shoulder, testing his boundaries. “Good luck, Vic,” he added, more seriously. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
Despite the twitch of pain he felt in his heart at the thought of really giving up on Skye, the girl he’d fallen deeply for, he smiled. And with incredible courage, selflessness, and humility, he gave in to the current pulling him away from the life he’d been living by offering, “Thank you, Jules.” He gave his friend a quick, friendly man hug, and added, “I’m going to try. And I owe it all to you.”

RICH, BRIGHT SUNLIGHT streamed through the hospital’s window, basking Rachel in its captivating warmth. Swaddled in a scratchy blanket, she curled in on herself, seeking more comfort. The muscles in her back screamed in protest to the slow movement, tightening in pain, but she didn’t care. She wanted the warmth, wanted the security. Physical pain couldn’t touch her.
Her throat was dry from crying, and lack of proper hydration. Every time her father told her to drink, she ignored him, pretending he’d never said anything as she tried to block out everything around her. Tried to block out the thoughts that had invaded her conscience ever since the moment she was informed that Skye had arrived, bruised and battered, barely breathing.
She didn’t want to think about what Skye had gone through, knowing very well what Johnny’s intentions had been, as much as she didn’t want to think about how poorly he’d abused her

. She just wanted to forget—to forget anything bad had ever happened to either of them.
And yet . . . she knew it wasn’t going to be that easy.
Overwhelmed with a sudden wave of grief and horror, she let out a straggled cry into the blanket, and blinked back the images of Johnny abusing her, along with the images of what he could’ve done to Skye. She sobbed, a gut-wrenching, soul-shattering pull tearing her apart from the inside out. Her head throbbed with burdening images of Johnny’s sick, dark eyes roaming all