For days, Venessa kept the second letter hidden under her pillow, rereading it in secret every night before she slept.
It felt like her only comfort now—not her textbooks, not her old routine, not even the rare nods from teachers at school. Just this letter from a future she couldn't yet imagine, written in her own trembling hand but filled with strength she didn't yet possess.
The fear hadn't faded completely.
Neither had the loneliness.
But something else had begun to grow beneath the numbness. A question. A flicker of what if.
What if this future version of her was real?
What if she could actually survive all this pain?
What if she didn't have to stay stuck in the dark forever?
That night, when the clock struck midnight and the house was drowned in silence, Venessa sat down with a blank sheet of paper. She stared at it for what felt like hours.
Then, carefully, she wrote:
> To the me who lived...
I don't know if I believe you yet.
But if you're real… thank you.
Thank you for not giving up. I don't know how you did it. Because right now, it hurts just to breathe. I feel like I'm made of glass—like I'll shatter if someone touches me the wrong way.
I don't remember what it's like to laugh anymore. Or to feel safe. Or to be wanted.
But… I want to believe you. I want to believe that this pain isn't the end of me.
Even if it's hard. Even if I fall again.
If you're still here… maybe I can be too.
-Venessa, the one who's trying
She folded the letter and gently placed it in the drawer.
For the first time in a long time, she didn't cry herself to sleep.
---
The next day, the letter was gone.
Replaced by another.
> You wrote back.
I was hoping you would.
I'm proud of you. I know that might sound strange coming from yourself, but I mean it.
You don't realize it yet, but you're stronger than you know. Braver than anyone has ever told you. The fact that you're still standing after everything you've endured? That's more courage than most people carry in a lifetime.
You're not broken, Venessa.
You're healing.
And I'm going to be here, every step of the way. Letter by letter.
Venessa pressed the paper to her chest. Her eyes were damp again—but this time, the tears didn't sting. They softened her.
For the first time, the weight of silence in the house didn't crush her completely.
Because now… she wasn't truly alone.
---
End of Chapter 7