The Broken Pieces novel Chapter 48

You probably don't remember that, but I do. And trust me, I think I will for the rest of my life.

I know I'm rambling, but for some reason, I can't help it. I'm trying to say everything and nothing, all at once.

You started to stir and now I really know I'm fucked. You wouldn't make it that easy, would you, Polar Bear?

You always asked me why I gave you that nickname and I always ignored it. But this time I'll tell you.

In the 7th grade when I snuck through your window because my parents were arguing. Although you almost killed me for waking you up at 2 am with your math textbook, you still let me stay. You got me a pillow and a blanket and you allowed me to sleep in your room. Then you woke up early, to your dismay, got me a PopTart - and to a 12-year-old boy, that was the nicest shit that had ever happened to me - and you hugged me before sending me on my way.

You got tough skin, Emmie, but not that tough. So you gained your nickname, Polar Bear.

I know your wishing for me to explain where the hell I am and why I left instead of going through memories, so I will.

I got in some trouble, Polar Bear, and it's deep this time. Almost lead to a lawsuit from the state. Let's just call it, destruction of property, because vandalism sounds a little immature if I do say so. Don't draw shit on City Hall in the midst of a drunken haze, Polar Bear, trust me on this. Don't ask me what I drew, because I'm still trying to remember, but after it happened, I called my uncle, you know the rich but asshole one.

He made me a deal, Emmie. If I go with him and become his protege, he'll never tell my parents or allow this to go on my record. Which is a goddamn relief... but there's a catch (as always with him).

The catch is, Polar Bear, is that I'm cut off from all contact; with you, with my parents, with everyone.

He says he doesn't want me to get distracted, but I think he's just being an asshole. I think that he knows that without anyone, I'll be easier to control.

He promised to call my parents to tell them why I'm gone; I'm not that worried.

I took the deal. I would be crazy not to. The shit I did almost fucked up my entire future. And if I can fix that then I'll be golden.

That's why I'm writing you this letter because I know if I texted you, it probably wouldn't send. He's starting to cut off my shit now.

The morning light's coming and I know after this, I'll have to leave. So I'm trying to drag this on for as long as I can.

But I'm losing, Polar Bear, I'm losing.

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