Author’s Notes: This one is written from the point of view of Kelly, Mark and Elizabeth’s first daughter. Kelly is in high school, and Mark and Elizabeth are both dead. The rest is fairly self explanatory, so read on!

Disclaimer: I actually do own some of the people in this story. The ones you’ve heard of before are not mine, though. But I think you know all this, so, let’s continue…

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I sit down at my desk and sigh, knowing that I have an English project to do that won’t go away no matter how much I ignore it. The project is to write a letter to an abstract feeling as if it were a person. I personally think that it’s a rather corny project. Even if I thought it was a creative project, I wouldn’t want Mrs. Carl reading my innermost thoughts and feelings. It takes me a while to decide what name to put next to the ‘Dear.’ Lately, I’ve had a lot of emotions that I’d like to confront. I’ve thought a lot about these feelings, but today I think a little harder, trying to find that one distinctive emotion that is more prevalent than any other. Once I do that, I begin writing. My mind works faster than my head, and I begin scribbling so fast that I hope I’ll be able to understand it once I go back to reread it. But I don’t care. I need to get it out. Right now.

Dear Fear,

Hello. This is my formal greeting to you. I cannot bring myself to write a more kind, welcoming greeting with which I would begin most other letters. All you get for a greeting is this short, pathetic paragraph.

The truth is, I detest you. I detest you with all my heart and soul, more than I have ever detested something in my life. I detest you more than the cancer that killed my father and the drunk driver who killed my mother. I detest you because I can’t get over you. You won’t go away. You have control over me no matter where I go. Sometimes, my body shakes, my hands clam up, my face grows pale. Other times, I would never know that you are there except for the fact that you have a distinct, intangible way of making yourself known. Yes, you are intangible. Yet you are still so powerful that at times I truly believe I could reach out and touch you. No matter how often I tell you to go away, you loom over me, waiting to find the most opportune time to attack. The truth is, you don’t need to attack to keep control of me. I always know you are there. And I detest you for that.

If you weren’t there when the cancer killed my father or when the drunk killed my mother, maybe I could have gone on with my life. Maybe some things would be different now. In fact, I know things would be different. My mother used to tell me I had an inner beauty deep within me that would carry me wherever I wanted to go. I was foolish enough to believe her. She didn’t warn me about you. She didn’t warn me that you would kill that beauty, just because you derive a perverted sense of entertainment from killing people who still have hope. Why do you do that? Is it fun for you? It’s not fun for me.

I don’t tell anyone that you’re here with me. Maybe some people know. Maybe they see it in my eyes. I have my father’s eyes. My mother told me that she could see all my beauty through my eyes. She said that my eyes showed everything I was feeling, everything I wanted the world to know. Now everything I want the world to know is blocked by you. You never let me show the world who I really am. No one sees beauty anymore, they see fear. Or emptiness. Do they shy away from me because they fear you? They shouldn’t. They should realize that by fearing fear, you have already taken them over, ever so slightly. Soon you will take over their lives, controlling them like you control me. I used to fear you. Where do you get all your power?

I feel you, Fear, all the time. I feel you in the most unimportant, miniscule, daily events and on the most important, momentous occasions. I feel you whispering to me when I take a test that I’ve studied hours for. I feel you contorting my vocal cords when I attempt to speak in front of the class. I know you are there when my sister comes home looking sad, with bags under her eyes and a ghost white face. I hear you talk to me when the lights go out and when I toss and turn for hours. Your voice tells me of all the horrible people in the world, waiting to prey on innocent victims like me. You tell me of all the things that could happen to my sister and me, just as suddenly as they happened to my parents. I feel you all the time. There’s never a time when you just leave me alone, leave me to be happy.

Maybe you know what will happen if you leave me. Maybe you always saw my beauty, and you are so pathetic that you thought it should be stopped. Are you so pitiful that you enjoy destroying beautiful things? Truthfully, if it weren’t for you, I would have still been hopeful after my father’s death. I wouldn’t have clung to my mother, I wouldn’t have been so smothered. I would have been happier, I could have gone on, I could have had faith.

After my mother was killed, you struck just as hard. And you knew it too. At that instant, you took that final blow to my stomach, knocking all the wind out of me so that I literally could not breathe. You knew what you were doing the whole time, didn’t you? At that moment, everything left me. I knew that I had lost all of myself. If I had been a fearless girl, I would have believed I could make it. But I am not fearless. I have you hanging over my head. I want you to leave. I want to find myself again.

I know you like to torture me. I’ve almost accepted it. I’ve learned to deal with you. I know all your tricks. It doesn’t make me hate you any less, but at least I recognize you for what you are. I wouldn’t hate you so much if you didn’t torture my sister too. She’s such a little girl. She has so many hopes and dreams. She could be so much when she gets older. Her beauty is not crushed yet. She has so much to live for. If you have to control me, please don’t control her too.

There used to be a time when I was like my sister. I hope the world understands that. I didn’t always look like this, with FEAR imprinted on my face in bold, unsightly letters. I used to be happy. I used to sing and dance and play like a normal child. I used to make my parents so happy. I used to BE so happy. I wish that everyone could see that now. No, to them I am just one of those teenagers, a hindrance to society. Someone who’s bound to go bad because that’s just the way life works these days. And that shouldn’t be the way life works. It’s not fair.

Sometimes, I can fool many people at a time. I go through my life with a smile planted on my face. I pretend to be fearless, happy. I do a very good job fooling everyone, except the people who know me well. Maybe that’s why I feel so far away from my friends these days. They see you in me, see how you changed me. It’s gone so far that they don’t see me at all. They just see you. You don’t let me laugh and smile like I used to. I know I used to have a beautiful smile. You took it away, and I want it back. I want to be the person I was, making everyone laugh and smile. I was the kind of person who could make people happy, and now I’m not anymore. Because of you.

I guess deep inside I know that it is not all your fault. Ever since you came into my life, I have tried to overpower you. I’ve always wanted to be one of those courageous people in books and TV shows who overcomes tragedy to be renowned at one thing or another. At one point, I was disillusioned enough to believe that I could become a brilliant surgeon, more brilliant than my mother. But it isn’t like you hear about in those books. They don’t tell you how hard it is. How pain rips through your heart and how fear paralyzes you most of the time. And even if they said that, no one would quite understand. Not until it happens to them.

I’m writing this to you, Fear, to tell you that even if you don’t go away, you can’t win anymore. I’m giving you a warning. I won’t play games with you like you’ve played with me. This time, I really am going to overcome you. I know all your tricks now. I know what you’re trying to do. And it won’t work. Every time I feel you, I’m going to crush you, just like you’ve crushed me in the past. My parents taught me to be courageous. They didn’t tell me how hard it would be, but now I know. Fear, you don’t scare me anymore. You’ve shown yourself to me, and I’m still here. Even though I know that I lost a part of me because of you, I’m going to get it back.

Most importantly, I’m going to warn my sister about you. No one should have to live with you breathing down her neck. I won’t let her make the same mistake I did, letting you hover over her and allowing you to define her. No, it won’t be like that for her. She and I, we’ll be successful. We’ll prove you wrong.

Being courageous doesn’t have to mean getting rid of you. It just means ignoring you. And that is what I’m going to do. Maybe if I don’t let you bother me, you will go away. You’re just as petty as a little child that way. Next time I feel you with me on a test, I will shoo you away. Next time I’m trying to talk in front of a group, I’ll speak so confidently that I will scare even you. Next time my sister comes home looking dejected, I will remind her of you, and we will be fine. Next time I think of all the crazy people in the world, I will remind myself that they were just afraid as I was, and if I can defeat you, I can defeat them too. Next time I think about living without my parents, I will remind myself that they are there, watching me and helping to get rid of you. And pretty soon, you will be just a memory. Because I don’t need you anymore. Good-bye.

Sincerely,

Kelly

Wow. When I reread the words, I realize how angry I am at fear. I hate to say it, but maybe it wasn’t such a dumb project after all. After rereading it again, I doubt that I will hand it in. Mrs. Carl would undoubtedly like it, and I would get a good grade. She’d probably also pity me. I feel proud that I’ve done it all for myself. This writing thing, it helps me more than I thought. I smile as I hear my sister Sara downstairs talking to Susan and her son Eric. I promise myself to talk to Sara tonight, and I say a silent prayer that we really can be strong enough to overcome fear.

I hear Susan calling me for dinner. I make my way downstairs where Sara and Eric are setting the table. I smile at Susan, and I think that she sees something in that smile because she smiles back very brightly. I watch Sara putting the knives and forks down, and when she looks up, I smile at her too. She smiles back, uncertainly at first, but I know that everything’s going to be alright. We can make it without Mom and Dad. It won’t be so bad. I scold myself for ever letting fear enter the picture. And I silently thank Mrs. Carl for giving us that assignment. Things are going to be okay. I can feel it.