January 29th, 2005

Dear Alaska,

The morning after you got in your car, the Eagle came knocking on our door. He knocked those three sharp knocks that only gives you seconds hide the cigarettes and alcohol. But shockingly, for once we had nothing to hide. The Colonel was still passed out from his alcohol induced sleep and I was lost in my memories of the night before. When he told us to go to the gym, I knew were caught. Too many progress reports, I had thought. But god, Alaska, I wish that's what had happened. Because this is so, so much worse. And the worst part is that even though I know you're dead, I still don't know why - and thats plaguing me. I can't eat, I can't sleep, I can't do anything.

I feel responsible, Alaska. Me and the Colonel both do. God, we're so stupid. I was so caught up in you that it didn't even cross my mind to tell you not to drive after drinking or that we could sort out whatever it was that made you go into hysterics in the morning. The Colonel, he was too drunk to notice. But the worst part about you being dead and us being responsible, is that we can't tell anyone. Takumi and Lara and the rest of the school have no idea what happened, and to be honest, neither do we. But we know just a little more than anyone else and it's so, so hard to pretend otherwise, Alaska.

One moment you're with me in a sort of sleepy haze, and then the phone out in the hall rings, you come back in and you're in a frenzy of tears and not making any sense. The Colonel and I are assuming that it was Jake who called you. They said you had flowers in the back of your car. But what I don't understand is what Jake could have said to you that would make you so upset with him. He is the only boy you've ever refused to cheat on. So in the span of minutes, something happened that me and the Colonel aren't picking up on. Its hard to complete a puzzle, Alaska, when the most important piece of the puzzle is missing.

Lara told me I should write a letter to you. I guess she figured out that I love you. I don't want to love you, and you make it incredibly hard to love you, but somehow I still do. I'm so pissed at you, Alaska, and I want to hate you, and I'm trying but I just can't. I'm stuck in a love triangle with one dead side. All I see when I close my eyes is this image of you sitting behind the wheel of Blue Ivy with your eyes open, yet unseeing and your skin cold and pale, unusually pale in this sticky Alabama heat that you always complained about.

Me and the Colonel talked to the policeman whose car your crashed into. We went to try and make sense of the things we already knew. Instead we were left just as confused, if not more. He says you hit the cruiser head-on, didn't even slow down. I get that you were drunk Alaska, but you weren't drunk enough to miss the blue and red lights. I know because I got the Colonel drunk to the same BAC that the officer told us you were. He could barely hold himself up but he could definitely see. So what were you trying to do, Alaska? Kill yourself?

The Eagle told us to clean out your dorm. We found things we really didn't want to find. But I did find that book you were in love with, the one about the labyrinth. I found a note that you wrote in it. Straight and fast. Is that how you escaped your Labyrinth of Suffering? Straight and fast. That's why you didn't slow down. But that is just the How, Alaska. And I still don't know the Why. But maybe I'll never know why you decided to kill yourself after one phone call from Jake. Nothing adds up, but maybe I'll just have to live with that.

Love always,

Pudge.