[ Dear Sir. ]

Dear Sir.

I apologise for pretending to be your wife. I was hired to take on her role by a man known only to me as Mr Smith. He offered me a lot of money and being a single mother trying desperately to support my four children, I could not refuse. He has since disappeared, and so I feel that I could at least try to right the wrong that I was scammed into performing.

~*~*~

Sam

Why did you have to come home so soon? You’re never home before 6. I thought I was safe.

The thing is, Sam, I didn’t want to hurt you. I still don’t. But whenever your gone it’s like there’s a hole that I desperately need to fill.

I’ve never been as happy with anyone as I’ve been with you. I know you can’t always be here, and so I couldn’t tell you the truth. Because you would think that I’m just with you for the sex. I just want you to be happy Sam.

I have to confess. I’m a nymphomaniac.

~*~*~

Dear Sam

You have to understand. When you came home I know what you must have seen. Your wife, who you thought was so happy with you, making love to another man. I know it must have looked like that. But the truth is, I’ve been brutally and horribly raped. Come home Sam, I need you now more than ever.

~*~*~

To Sam

Before I tell you why, there are a few things I have to explain first. I am a gambling addict. Pokies, horse races, even online blackjack. And that alone is not my shame.

Sam, I have gambled almost everything we own. Until two weeks ago I was terribly in debt. $200,000. You’re so sensible with money. I couldn’t admit it to you. So I found an alternative way of getting the money. Prostitution. I am too proud, Sam. You don’t know how much this hurts me to come clean. You have to understand.

~*~*~

Dear Sam

I’m actually a man.

~*~*~

Sam

I have written you so many letters. Trying to excuse myself somehow from what I’ve done. Trying to somehow make you believe that it was something other than my own selfish insanity that would drive me to commit something so inconceivable. I’m sitting here, surrounded by a sea of scrunched up paper. And I think it’s time I told you the truth.

I lied to you Sam. From the start. When we met, I was married. Four years I had been married to a man who saw life through a wine bottle. He coaxed me and tied me down. I couldn’t leave him because I couldn’t bear the thought of not being loved by someone. Until I couldn’t stand the abuse any longer. And so I left.

I left him and I left the city. I drove and drove until it was 11:30 at night and I was out of petrol in the middle of a country road. I was stranded.

Then you came by. The only passer by in three hours. I told you I was trying for a sea change but didn’t really have anywhere to go. “Come to Pebble Bay” you said. They needed a bar girl and there was always free board. So I did.

You know what happened from there on. I just never told you the truth.

Then last night, he came. He tracked me down. He’d been looking for me all these years, he said. I believed him. It was such an ironic twist of power. Suddenly it seemed I had over him what he held over me all those years.

Now I realise that he was drunk.

The truth is no better than all those lies. Screw this.

~*~*~

Dear Sam,

I’m sorry.

Leah