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It’s been three months since Sonya was taken. It’s been three months of planning and running and crying into her sleeping bag, stifling sobs and pretending she’s fine. No one has asked about the tear tracks yet, they’re all too caught up in their own grief to hear her sniffles at night.
Vince knows. Because of course he knows. Vince knew how Harriet felt before she did. But now there’s a name for the feelings inside of her, and no place for them to go. Now there’s longing and heartache and desperation surrounded by hopelessness, a deep anxiety that she’ll never see her again. That these words will never make it out.
Instead she writes them down. It was Vince’s idea. A way to channel everything she’s feeling, a way to keep Sonya in her memory as something vivid not as something lost. A goal to work towards, a way to prepare the words for when they’re face to face.
She writes the thoughts as letters. This way, she can almost imagine them reaching Sonya, that the words are somehow being sent and are keeping her going wherever wckd is keeping them. Her name at the top, directed to her, makes it all the more real to Harriet too. These aren’t random thoughts, wispy and fading. They’re strong and powerful and they have meaning.
None of the letters are very long. They're all written in stolen moments, at night before they switch off the lamps. In the morning before they’re on the move. The small time between waking up and going on watch herself.
Dear Sonya,
I don’t know where you are. You could be anywhere in the world right now, a million miles away, but it doesn’t matter to me. You’re here, you’re on this paper and in these words and in my head and I will find you.
This is my promise. You will come back to us.
Dear Sonya,
It’s been four months. Each day without you here feels longer. I had you by my side for so long, I know now I took advantage of those moments. I miss your laugh, the way you’d scold me, the hand you’d place on mine when you could just sense I needed it. No one got me like you did, like you do. The days are empty without you.
I will find you.
Dear Sonya,
There’s a word for how I feel. Something I’ve always felt for you, I think. Through the years in the Spring and the months in the right arm, you always had my back. I miss reaching across and finding you sleeping beside me. Sometimes I still reach out, I’ve hit Thomas in the face twice now searching for you. When I get you back I’m going to keep you close.
I’m still searching for you.
Dear Sonya,
I want to feel hopeless. We’re just a few people against WCKD. Vince has a plan, he and Thomas are working non stop. We’re all helping, I’m fighting for you - for all of you - but it’s so hard. It’s lonely out here. Brenda sits with me most nights, she asks me to tell her stories of the Spring. Most of them are about you, she smiles at me then. I can still see you, clear as day. Beautiful eyes and that soft smile. I’ll see it again, one day. I won’t give up, Son, I won’t leave you.
I need you to know how I feel. But more importantly I need you safe.
Dear Sonya,
We’re striking tomorrow. It’s been six months in the making, and there’s so much that could go wrong, but it’s a plan. I feel like I should be nervous, but I’m not. This is what we’ve been working for. This is what the fight has been about, saving people, defeating wckd. And by the end, I should be able to see your face again. That will make all the months of pain worth it, as long as I can see you again.
We’re coming for you Sonya.
I’ll see you soon.
Dear Sonya,
You’ve been back a day. I don’t know what happened to you both with WCKD, and you don’t have to tell me until you’re ready, if ever. That is your story, but these letters are mine. I’m tying them up tonight, they’ll be by your bedside when you wake up. You can read them or burn them or leave them in a corner, but my thoughts are yours.
All of this was for you Sonya. Having you back, safe and alive, the fight still in those eyes, it’s all worth it. There’s so much I want to tell you, but you need to rest.
I’m offering you everything here, you can take whatever you want.
Love,
Harriet
She leaves the wrapped up letters beside Sonya’s sleeping frame. Having her back doesn’t feel real. She touches her face gently, moving a lock of hair from where it’s fallen. In her drowsy state, Sonya reaches out, muttering quietly.
“Harri?”
“It’s me, it’s late. Go back to sleep.” Harriet smiles then. “I’ll be here in the morning.”