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doublethepainThe envelope doesn't come with a return address.
It's written out to Spencer Waters-Baker and it makes him smile because other than his monthly bank statements and bills, there hasn't been much else he's gotten in the mail with his name change. He'll always love the way it sounds, the way it rolls off his tongue, the way it had been so easy to make the decision to become a Baker.
His mind is already drifting back to the day he and Joel had gotten married, and it's only been just under two months but it feels like an eternity ago. The candles lit in the church, the red thread marking a passage in the minister's book, the ring being slipped on his finger--everything had been perfect that night, from the second they'd left the house to their return to Siren Cove, and he lets out a soft laugh because he's been needing this. Between fretting over making sure Erin is at ease and trying not to let his concern for what's going on with Joel get the best of him, Spencer has needed the respite from the stress.
It doesn't last for long, not when he unfolds the thin, white sheet from the envelope and starts to read the messy handwriting.
Spencer,
First let me congratulate you on your marriage. I can't really say I saw that coming, I never would've thought Baker would have it in him to keep you close after everything that happened. Kind of worrisome, don't you think? That he'd still marry you when he knows what a danger he is, and he has to know that he is. I could've saved you that night, you know, if he'd let me. I could've put you to rest, make sure that in the end, he never hurts you again because let's be honest with each other: without him, I wouldn't have found you.
I want you to know that I think about you both every day. I think about doing what I came to Siren Cove to do in the first place. I think about wrapping my hands around your neck again because you can't know how much I enjoyed watching you gasp for air. You gave up, didn't you? For just a second, you gave up, and I didn't get to finish the job but that's satisfactory enough for now.
I'm the model prisoner, for the record. I wouldn't be surprised if I get out of here early and when that happens, I'll come back for you. You think you're safe with him? You're not. He'll destroy you, just like he did my sister. Baker still has to pay and as soon as I'm free, I'm going to start by tearing you apart all over again while he watches every second of it.
Trust me, I'll be doing you a favor.
Be seeing you soon.
By the time he's finished reading the unsigned letter--and he doesn't need to see a signature to know that Mark Fuller had written this, doesn't know why he'd read it all the way through, doesn't know why he hadn't crumpled the piece of paper up and burned it the second he'd realized who it's from--Spencer is trembling, hot tears streaming down his cheeks, and he feels for a split second like he can't breathe. He shuts his eyes, sees Mark's face above him and feels the hands around his neck, the glass shattering against his temple, hears the sickening sound of his fingers breaking.
He wipes his tears on his sleeve, taking in a ragged breath as he carefully folds the note back up and puts it back in the envelope before tucking it in his pocket and starting to walk. He doesn't know where he's headed--his instinct screams that he should get to Crossroads, to Joel, but his husband has so much going on already and Spencer hardly wants to add to the burden--but he doesn't care. His feet seem to move of their own accord, and he keeps his head down to avoid any stares he might get because he knows he must look like a complete wreck.
It isn't until he's already crashed into someone that he realizes he's still shaking, eyes wide as he looks up to face the other person and hands held out in front of him in a placating manner. "I'm sorry," he manages to say, and it's not like him to apologize outright like that but it's all he can do. "I'm sorry. Oh, god, I'm so sorry."
[OOC: What a good time! Old and new friends alike are welcome to help the poor guy out, catch him anywhere in town that's convenient.]
It's written out to Spencer Waters-Baker and it makes him smile because other than his monthly bank statements and bills, there hasn't been much else he's gotten in the mail with his name change. He'll always love the way it sounds, the way it rolls off his tongue, the way it had been so easy to make the decision to become a Baker.
His mind is already drifting back to the day he and Joel had gotten married, and it's only been just under two months but it feels like an eternity ago. The candles lit in the church, the red thread marking a passage in the minister's book, the ring being slipped on his finger--everything had been perfect that night, from the second they'd left the house to their return to Siren Cove, and he lets out a soft laugh because he's been needing this. Between fretting over making sure Erin is at ease and trying not to let his concern for what's going on with Joel get the best of him, Spencer has needed the respite from the stress.
It doesn't last for long, not when he unfolds the thin, white sheet from the envelope and starts to read the messy handwriting.
Spencer,
First let me congratulate you on your marriage. I can't really say I saw that coming, I never would've thought Baker would have it in him to keep you close after everything that happened. Kind of worrisome, don't you think? That he'd still marry you when he knows what a danger he is, and he has to know that he is. I could've saved you that night, you know, if he'd let me. I could've put you to rest, make sure that in the end, he never hurts you again because let's be honest with each other: without him, I wouldn't have found you.
I want you to know that I think about you both every day. I think about doing what I came to Siren Cove to do in the first place. I think about wrapping my hands around your neck again because you can't know how much I enjoyed watching you gasp for air. You gave up, didn't you? For just a second, you gave up, and I didn't get to finish the job but that's satisfactory enough for now.
I'm the model prisoner, for the record. I wouldn't be surprised if I get out of here early and when that happens, I'll come back for you. You think you're safe with him? You're not. He'll destroy you, just like he did my sister. Baker still has to pay and as soon as I'm free, I'm going to start by tearing you apart all over again while he watches every second of it.
Trust me, I'll be doing you a favor.
Be seeing you soon.
By the time he's finished reading the unsigned letter--and he doesn't need to see a signature to know that Mark Fuller had written this, doesn't know why he'd read it all the way through, doesn't know why he hadn't crumpled the piece of paper up and burned it the second he'd realized who it's from--Spencer is trembling, hot tears streaming down his cheeks, and he feels for a split second like he can't breathe. He shuts his eyes, sees Mark's face above him and feels the hands around his neck, the glass shattering against his temple, hears the sickening sound of his fingers breaking.
He wipes his tears on his sleeve, taking in a ragged breath as he carefully folds the note back up and puts it back in the envelope before tucking it in his pocket and starting to walk. He doesn't know where he's headed--his instinct screams that he should get to Crossroads, to Joel, but his husband has so much going on already and Spencer hardly wants to add to the burden--but he doesn't care. His feet seem to move of their own accord, and he keeps his head down to avoid any stares he might get because he knows he must look like a complete wreck.
It isn't until he's already crashed into someone that he realizes he's still shaking, eyes wide as he looks up to face the other person and hands held out in front of him in a placating manner. "I'm sorry," he manages to say, and it's not like him to apologize outright like that but it's all he can do. "I'm sorry. Oh, god, I'm so sorry."
[OOC: What a good time! Old and new friends alike are welcome to help the poor guy out, catch him anywhere in town that's convenient.]
