After We Collided (After, #2)

by Anna Todd

Tess, Since I’m not good with words when trying to relate my inner life, I may have stolen some from Mr. Darcy, whom you fancy so much. I write without any intention of paining you, or humbling myself, by dwelling on wishes which, for the happiness of both, cannot be too soon forgotten: and the effort which the formation and the perusal of this letter must occasion, should have been spared had not my character required it to be written and read. You must, therefore, pardon the freedom with which I demand your attention; your feelings, I know, will bestow it unwillingly, but I demand it of your justice… I know that I’ve done so many fucked-up things to you, and that I in no way deserve you, but I’m asking—no, begging—you to please look past the things that I have done. I know I ask too much of you, always, and I’m sorry for that. If I could take it all back, I would. I know you are angry and disappointed by my actions, and that kills me. Instead of making excuses for the way I am, I’m going to tell you about me, the me that you never knew. I’m starting with the shit I remember—I’m sure there is more, but I swear not to purposely hide anything else from you from this day forth. When I was around nine, I stole my neighbor’s bike and broke the wheel, then lied about it. That same year I threw a baseball through the living room window and lied about it. You know about my mother and the soldiers. My father left shortly after, and I was glad when he did. I didn’t have many friend...