The End of Me (The Downfall of Us #1)(5)
Author: Claudia Burgoa

 

“How was the funeral?” I dare to ask, not acknowledging the hint about the muffins. If he touches them, I’ll tell Seth to kick his ass.

 

“We didn’t stay. After we realized you weren’t there, we decided to track you,” Seth responds, leaving the room.

 

“How can I go when I don’t agree on…” I don’t know how to finish that sentence.

 

“Sorry,” Seth says. “I wish—”

 

“If you apologize one more time…” I sniff because I’m out of words.

 

“What do you want on your pizza?” Jude asks.

 

“There’s more to life than food,” Gabe groans.

 

If it wasn’t for the fact that Jude and Gabe are identical, no one would think they’re related. They are like night and day. One is hyper-responsible, and the other one parties too much.

 

“Sure, but I’m a growing boy. I burn more calories than I consume.”

 

“Just order one with everything and a second one with olive, pineapple, and Canadian bacon,” Seth responds as he enters the room.

 

Seth carries a big purple box with an iridescent bow on top.

 

I frown. “What is that?”

 

He sets it on the coffee table, pushing some of the decorations to the side.

 

It’s a beautiful box. It looks a lot like the ones Archer used for my birthday presents. I stare at it as if it’s contaminated and it might kill me. “Is that a present for one of you?”

 

Seth shakes his head and hands me a violet envelope. It’s addressed to me, and the writing is Archer’s.

 

“No, thank you,” I say, giving it back to him.

 

Seth doesn’t accept it. “You have to at least read the letter.”

 

“No, I don’t.”

 

“He’ll kick our asses if he learns we didn’t give it to you,” Seth claims.

 

“It’s not my birthday or any anniversary.”

 

“Just fucking read it.” Gabe glares at me. “You need that letter and this box.”

 

I don’t, but knowing these three, if I don’t read it, they won’t leave me alone. Slowly, I open the envelope and pull out the piece of paper.

 

“God, she’s unfolding it in slow motion,” Jude groans.

 

 

 

 

 

Piper Bug,

 

If you’re reading this, there are only two possibilities.

 

One, you’re nosy as fuck and went through the office’s closet. If that’s the case, please, leave this letter, close the box, and move away.

 

I’ll reward you later. ;)

 

The second option is not as fun. Jude, Gabe, or Seth gave you this box because I’m gone, and that totally sucks.

 

I’m sorry, baby.

 

I’m so sorry I broke my promise and didn’t make it home. Just know that I did the impossible to survive before giving up. And, of course, if that’s the case, I instructed Seth, Jude, or Gabe to give you this box.

 

I created it to make sure you won’t go through this alone.

 

I’m here for you, holding you while you move on because, baby, you have to continue your life. We have a plan. We made that promise—and at least one of us has to stick to it, okay?

 

Love you for always,

 

Archer

 

PS It’s not a goodbye. We’ll find each other again, my love.

 

 

 

 

 

I read the letter three times. It feels surreal. He wrote me a letter just in case he died. Though it’s scary to think that he was prepared, reading this makes me feel less lonely, but the sadness doesn’t disappear.

 

Carefully, I fold the paper the same way I fold his words and tuck them under my heart. Once I’m ready, I ask, “When did he make this?”

 

“A few years ago. He used to add stuff before he left on a mission or after he arrived from them,” Jude answers. “You know he liked to plan for everything.”

 

I place the envelope on top of the box and look toward Seth. “He’s still alive. Please don’t stop looking for him—don’t give up so soon.”

 

“I promise to keep looking,” he assures me. “But you can’t ignore the box. Open it and go through it.”

 

Gabe is the one who undoes the beautiful ribbon and takes off the lid. I glance inside and find a notebook, a bunch of manila envelopes, and another envelope that says, read first.

 

Jude takes it out, opens it, and hands me the letter. I don’t want to touch it. It looks like a venomous snake ready to strike. But it’s the craving for his words that makes me read it.

 

 

 

 

 

Piper,

 

So you decided to open Pandora’s box, huh?

 

This letter has all the instructions for your survival kit. It’s not like the one we made in case of a zombie apocalypse, but it’ll be just as helpful. I promise.

 

I made videos with our favorite memories. I wrote you letters, and there’s a journal where I make entries about us. Everything is numbered, and there’s a reference book too.

 

I might never get to write the great American novel, but I created a kick-ass guide to surviving grief. Enjoy it because it’s the only edition in the entire universe.

 

There is also a notebook for you. Please write to me, let me know how you feel, and don’t close yourself off from others.

 

Also, I need a huge favor from you. This is a little selfish, but be there for my family. They need someone to lean on, and now it’s you who’ll have to make sure the St. Jameses don’t fall apart. I didn’t leave them anything but remind them how much I love them and how important they were to me—remember they’re your family too, and family should always come first.

 

Before you get angry at me for being prepared and jinxing us, please don’t. I wasn’t planning on dying, but I wanted us to have a backup plan. I couldn’t leave my best girl to grieve on her own. If you’re not ready for this, or you prefer to forget about me now, please just close the box.

 

Now, if you decide to continue, then take my hand. We can hold onto each other until you’re ready to let me go. Just know that I’m by your side, always.