Huntington

My darling Venom,

Let me preface this by saying, if you cry, I’m going to disown your ass all the way from Hell. Not that I believe in Hell. And not that I particularly believe you’ll cry. Just covering my bases here.

Here goes nothing.

Let it be known that this is not a suicide letter. It’s a letter that happens to be the last one I’ll ever write.

I’m telling you now not to blame yourself for anything that happened. In fact, you were the only reason I lasted these four years.

I’m not going to get into the whole why-I-did-this part.

If scars tell stories, I have none. No bumps, valleys, or grooves. No blemishes to remind me of the damage I have caused. My skin is a liar. It is smooth. Unmarked. An empty canvas. One day, my sins will catch up to me, and when I die, it will be with a scar.

“Her future needed her, so she turned her back on her past.”