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[color=darkgray][indent][indent]Mornings in the Cleary household were usually a quiet, peaceful affair. Gary Cleary would be the first to rise from his slumber, wiping the dregs of sleep from his eyes and heading straight to the bathroom to start off his day. Deidre, the matron of the family, would follow suit, trudging to the kitchen to start the coffee pot and prepare whatever breakfast sounded the most appealing. While Deidre occupied herself with the meal, Gary would make the trek down the driveway to the mailbox to retrieve the family’s correspondence, maybe wave at a neighbor, and return to the kitchen just in time to watch his plate and mug be placed in front of his seat at the dining room table. Eventually, the Cleary children would file in and serve themselves portions of whatever items they favored at the time before taking their own seats by the table. Snippets of small talk and conversation would be exchanged before all family members finished their meal and set off on their respective endeavors. Rhett, having dropped by to enjoy his mother’s breakfast and company, and Gary would leave to start preparations at The Hole. Rowan, when not at soccer camp like she was, would leave a few hours later to hang out with her friends. And Cece, depending on the day, would either return to her bedroom to read a book or leave the house to hang out with Danny or whoever she was seeing at the time.

The morning of July 19th was different. Rather than the scent of coffee and bacon, it was the sound of agitated voices that nudged Caitin Cleary awake. With how deep she had been sleeping, it took her a second to decipher whether the voices she was hearing were coming from her dream or real life. But once she established they were very much real, the alarmed young woman tossed the covers off herself, slid her feet onto her slippers and carefully stepped down the stairs. The sound of the voices led her to the living room, where Cece was met with a distressing sight. [url=https://i.gifer.com/4Adq.gif]Her father[/url] stood tall in the corner of the room, a concerned look on his face as he watched the scene currently unfolding in his home. Sitting on the couch was [url=https://i.pinimg.com/originals/14/69/2f/14692fc095c272d689d060eb4ba3e185.jpg]her mother[/url], with her arms wrapped around an inconsolable strawberry blonde woman that the girl had known all her life.

[color=C81935]"What's going on?"[/color] Cece heard herself asking with worry, taking turns to study the expressions of her mom, her dad, and their guest. The last time [url=https://c.tenor.com/fzdHQ9yVkVwAAAAC/connie-britton-crying.gif]Lizzie O’Hara[/url] had been over at their place looking this distraught was to inform them about David’s passing. Whatever this was, it wasn't good news. Cece didn’t have to wait long for Lizzie’s reply. 

[color=cbadd6]“The psychopath sending the Decker letters is gunning after Davey now!”[/color] she wailed in between sobs, wiping the mascara-stained tears off her face. Although she had remained a timeless beauty throughout the years, her suffering wilted her youth away anytime she was forced to relive the pain of her son’s death. [color=cbadd6]“The phones have been ringing my ear off all morning. Everyone’s been calling and texting John, Jamie and I about it: talking about how they got this goddamn letter in the mail today, asking whether we’d seen it yet, telling me that people are speculating that it was from the girl he got accused over…”[/color] she trailed off, taking a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm down while her friend and neighbor rubbed her back.

[color=ffa399]“We got the letter too, Caitlin,”[/color] Deidre informed Cece, shifting her gaze from the woman in her lap to meet that of her daughter’s. [color=ffa399]“It was with the mail your dad picked up from the box this morning.”[/color]

Something about this wasn’t quite right. 

The Cleary matron’s facial expression filled Cece with a sudden sense of unease. The way her mother was looking at her was the same way she used to whenever she told a lie or broke a rule and got caught when she was little. Her father’s was as impassive as ever; but the way he refused to meet her eyes, like whenever he was forced to be the bearer of bad news, spoke volumes. It was he who, without a word, handed his daughter the Cleary’s copy of the letter in discussion.

As soon as her gaze landed on the piece of paper, Caitlin’s blue-green eyes widened, and she felt her blood turn to ice. The words of her fourteen year-old self were staring right back at her: in red ink, perfect cursive and impeccable penmanship. The date at the top right of the photocopied letter read [i]December 4th, 2016[/i]: the night Allison had died and the night David and her had shared their first kiss at the clearing. While the party attendees and those closest to Allison were dealing with the first waves of shock and grief, the Cleary girl (blissfully unaware of the news) had been restless with excitement. In the sanctuary of the clearing, David and Caitlin had shared a few more kisses after the first one, engaged in additional conversation, and snuggled as close as they could until the cold became so unbearable they were forced to call it a night. No sooner had she arrived at her house, the redhead had rushed up the stairs straight to her bedroom, locked the door behind her and settled herself behind her desk to write both the letter currently in her hand and a lengthy diary entry with all the details from her outing. She had poured her heart and feelings into every word, every phrase, every sentence, every punctuation mark. Her late arrival, although unaddressed that night, had gotten her in some trouble the next day, and she’d been forced to lie and say she’d been at Jill’s house to avoid suspicion. Of course, she would have done it all over again if she had to. It had all been worth it.

The original letter came to be in David’s possession the Friday after the championship game. During study hall, Caitlin had exited the library with the age-old bathroom excuse, and snuck around just long enough to slide the letter into David’s locker. When they met again that afternoon, he was quick to voice his appreciation, and reward her in the form of plenty of kisses. He’d promised her that he’d keep the letter safe, in a place where he could read it whenever he pleased while at the same time be hidden from prying eyes.

In all honesty, the redhead had never considered what had happened to the letter until today-- but that wasn’t the scary part. If someone had found David’s hiding place, what [i]else[/i] had they found? Or, worse yet, what else did they [i]know[/i]?

It was Lizzie’s raised voice what tore Cece away from her own panicked thoughts. [color=cbadd6]"I know my son was a heartbreaker-- I will never deny that part. But I know my son, and David was [b]not[/b] a pervert like they say he was! John and I raised him better than that!"[/color] she cried, turning her attention to the young woman who had grown up alongside her children. [color=cbadd6]“You knew him, Cece! You knew him all your life! You know Davey would never do anything like that!”[/color]

Caitlin nodded, trying to swallow the huge lump stuck in her throat that made it so hard to speak. [color=C81935]“You’re right. He would never do something like that,”[/color] was all she could croak to Lizzie without her voice breaking and exposing the fear rising inside her. Although her blue eyes remained stuck to the ground, she knew Lizzie was crying, and that pit in the middle of  her stomach doubled in size. It was hard to look the heartbroken woman in the eyes and try to offer her words of comfort when the guilt of knowing she was the reason behind her son’s death was threatening to consume her whole.

Thankfully, Deidre had decided that it was time to wrap up the subject so she could tend to her friend. [color=ffa399]“Come on, Lizzie. Let me make you a chamomile and lavender tea cup. I’ve heard it really helps soothe and calm down,”[/color] she murmured softly, helping Lizzie up from the couch and guiding her to the kitchen.

With long strides, Garrett closed the distance between himself and Cece, wiping his face with a heavy hand. [color=a83a01]“Christ… This is a damn nightmare,”[/color] he muttered to his daughter as soon as the women were out of earshot. [color=a83a01]“This town doesn’t need that mess to be brought up again. I loved David like I love my own son. I watched that boy grow up. I helped raise him. I know he wouldn’t hurt anyone like that. They didn’t find anything then, so why would they find anything now? I stood for him then, and I’ll stand for him until I die: everyone else in this town be damned. And spreading out these letters like that-- for what? I’m sure the poor girl who wrote them is already tormented enough. She doesn’t need to be reminded about what happened.”[/color]

When she heard the way her father spoke about David and ‘the girl in the letters’, Caitlin couldn’t hold back the silent tears that began to stream down her cheeks. Her father was absolutely right: the girl in the letters was tormented by her past every single day of her existence. So many people had loved the O’Hara boy, looked up to him with high hopes for his future, cherished him fondly… But he was gone, and it was all her fault.

Realizing his daughter was crying, Gary’s expression softened into one of compassion. With how close they had been to David and the rest of the O’Hara family, it made sense that Cece would be distraught about this whole thing. He was a stern man, but he wasn’t heartless or indifferent to his children’s feelings. Right now, his third-born needed him. So without warning, he wrapped his arms around Caitlin and held her close, affectionately kissing the top of her head for good measure.

Ever grateful, Cece welcomed the sympathy Gary was offering. She wrapped her own slender arms around her father’s taller figure, and dug her face into his broad chest. As much as she wanted to cry and wail and scream, her age-old habit of suppressing emotions in order to avoid worrying her loved ones went into full effect. She didn’t want her father to see just how shaken the news had left her, so she only allowed herself to be held for a few moments before slowly pulling away.

[color=a83a01]“You gonna be okay, Cait?”[/color] Gary asked her once released from their embrace, resting his hands on her shoulders. 

The blue-eyed girl nodded. [color=C81935]“I think I just need a moment,”[/color] Cece sniffed, wiping her face. [color=C81935]“Thank you, Dad.”[/color] 

Garrett shrugged his shoulders. [color=a83a01]“That’s what I’m here for, sweetie,”[/color] he said with a soft smile, ruffling the girl’s red hair until his eyes fell on the living room clock. [color=a83a01]“Shit… I gotta get to work, C-- but call me if you need anything, okay?”[/color]

[color=C81935]“I will.”[/color] Cece said with another nod, forcing herself to offer her father a closed-lipped smile.

[color=a83a01]“Love you, Cece.”[/color]

[color=C81935]“Love you, Dad,”[/color] the young woman called out to him, giving her father one last parting wave before he walked out the door.

With the parents now gone, Cece turned on her heel and rushed up the stairs to her bedroom, locking the door behind her. Once she was inside, the young woman dashed to her closet, flinging its door open and diving into the narrow space. A small dresser rested inconspicuously against the left side of the far end of the room, which she moved away to reveal a vent on the wall. She removed the metal grille in one sweeping motion and, holding her breath in anticipation, quickly took a look inside the newly exposed space. Her David memory box sat exactly where she’d left it hidden inside the duct, the light layer of dust on its lid confirming it had remained untouched since the last time she’d seeked its comfort. It was a small relief to know that her belongings of that time remained undisturbed. But it was not enough reassurance to calm the storm of feelings raging through her.

With her back against the right wall of the closet, Cece let her drained body slump down to the floor and began to sob, releasing the overflow of emotions as she held the “23” tattoo on her left wrist against her chest over her aching heart.[/indent][/indent][/color]