To My Darling [For the Dia de Los Muertos competition]

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  • Published: 26 Oct 2015
  • Updated: 26 Oct 2015
  • Status: Complete
Sam is dead with one thing on his mind, his beautiful wife Lyla. Writing her letters from the grave, what will Lyla do with them? DIA DE LOS MUERTOS ENTRY


5. Letter 5

Dear Sam,


Funny how things don’t always go the way you want. When I finally listened to you, it wasn’t what I expected. You promised pain and anguish but instead all I felt was peace as the pills slowly took hold of my body.

You aren’t here, thank goodness you’re not. The words you spoke made me think that you would be here, that I was just as bad as you were and I deserved to be where you are.


But Sam. I’m in Heaven. You tried to make me believe I was a horrible person that dreadful night you came home early to find me in bed with Mr Edwards. The way you shook me and screamed at me, spitting in my face that I was evil and deserved to die made me think you were right.

When you shot him, it felt like you shot me. I used to love you, but my heart belongs to him now. Maybe you did put food in our bellies and a roof over our heads, but you also left bruises on my body and scars on our children. You never loved us, you prized us. We were your farm animals to parade and whip into shape.

You thought by sheltering me from the rest of the world I would worship you, but it only made me hate you more. That’s why I did it. After shooting Mr Edwards and proposing to kill me and our children to be together forever I knew each choice would be unbearable to live with.

But I chose the right one for that time. When I yanked the rifle out of your hands and shot you in the heart, I felt the most amazing sense of freedom. But seeing you fall back onto the bed, next to a bare chested Edwards, I also knew this was a decision I could never make.

Losing my children was the last straw to my sanity. They are in a good place. When I went to the courthouse I went to say goodbye and begged Margaret, the nun in charge of children placement, to give them good homes.

You stole everything from me, but in doing so, you gave us what we needed. I have freedom now, even now that I’m dead. My children will go to a good home where they don’t have to be scared of nightly beatings, and I can spend forever with Mr Edwards, who’s watching me write this to you right now.

Wishing you the best of a torturous forever,

Lyla, your once beloved

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