submitted by @lanasskye !
“Emmy,
I know things have been hard, and I’m not sure if you want to speak to me, but I did it because I love you. I love you more than anyone else on this planet, and if me being alone for a little bit protects you, then I’ll be alone for the rest of my life. I’m just glad you’re safe.
Even if you hate me, please, know that I never stopped loving you. You’re the light of my life, my best friend, the only person I’ve ever loved this much.
I hope things are okay in Europe, I know you’re going to be a great forensic scientist, it’s what you’ve been working for your whole life.
Sorry it took so long to get you this, it’s been a rough couple of years.
Merry Christmas, I miss you,
Lan xx”
The letter sits inside a pretty red envelope, Lana’s cursive writing looping in gold calligraphy.
A large box is wrapped in paper underneath, the microscope Ema had asked for for years but Lana had never been able to afford sits inside.
her hands quake. they tremble, intensity increasing after her eyes take in each word. ema had waited to open the letter. she wasn’t sure if she wanted to know what was inside, christmas was already a touchy subject. it took some sweat to keep the large present away from her foster siblings, but, her eyes always flitted to it when her mind wandered. now, she’d open it. it needed to be before feburary rolled around, if she waited, it’d never be touched.
her thumb grazes over delicate golden ink. she wanted lana here —- she wanted to see her face and feel her warmth —- but, the lined paper granted her no comfort. it was cold, just like how she felt inside.
ema felt tears stain her cheeks, a hand pushing the card away, soiling it with tears would be inconceivable. instead, wavering fingers pushed away crisp tissue paper, only by a bit. she knew what it was. and she didn’t want her premonitions to be true.
it fueled her anguish. the microscope. something she’d begged for when the most of her problems consisted of a lack of “ professional “ science gear. it seemed so trivial now. this was what she’d wanted. yet, ema remains unsatisfied. she jerked her hand away from the packaging, as if it had burned her —- like a hotplate on a stove. she wanted her sister. she wanted lana. not desires she held close to her chest when she was blind to the martyr living under her roof.
it sits high upon her shelf, unopened, as a personal reminder, as a trophy of sorts. she didn’t weep when she would glance at it any longer. instead, she’d smile.
