Yours truly ; Charlie Weasley

Six

Dear Charlie,

I keep trying to convince myself that I hate you. I want to hate you. There is just one simple problem.

I can't.

We went through so much together and you left me without a valid reason so yeah, I should definitely hate you.

I just love you too much.

I don't think I can get through this. I've been without you for four months and I know where you are. I've been thinking about visiting you so many times but I know it won't lead anywhere. You'd just tell me to leave and I wouldn't be able to convince you to come back to me.

Did you know that when you left, I was pregnant? Yeah, almost eleven weeks pregnant. It was a girl. We always wanted our first child to be a girl. I had an abortion after you left because I couldn't do it without you. I didn't want to do it without you.

Maybe you would've stayed if I told you I was pregnant. I was planning on telling you but you were in such deep grief about Fred and I was waiting for the right time.

The right time never came.

You left and I killed our baby. I killed our baby. Fuck I'm so sorry. I feel so guilty about it but I'm trying to convince myself it was the right thing to do.

The child didn't deserve to be born into the world and only have her mother because her father left.

You know what?

Fuck you, Charles.

You made me cry again and I am so fucking tired of it. You don't deserve me. I deserve better and you are a fucking prick.

I still love you though.

Yours truly,
Ember Coil

-

The world is full of opportunities.

I know that because I'm an author. I get ideas, I write them down and I publish it for the public to read. The world is full of colour. At least that's what you see when you're happy.

Since Charlie left, I've seen the world as black and white. It is black and white. The world sucks and so does people.

Usually sitting on the roof of my parents house and looking at the sky as the sun went down, would be something to motivate me. I'm currently writing a biography about my life, yet I'm more inspired to write. I know my life and I know what's happened in it but I have no idea how to write it down so maybe the view will get my mind to calm down so I can write again.

Or maybe the bottle of firewhisky in my hand will help.

I took a sip of the bottle and swallowed harshly, then threw my head back.

Why does my parents let me sneak onto their roof and get drunk? Dunno.

Maybe they want to see me kill myself. Maybe they're secretly planning my death. Did they have insurance on me? I bet they want me dead so they can get money from it.

I'm twenty-five. Can they have insurance on me?

"What're you doing out here?"

I turned my head to see my older brother crawl out of my childhood bedroom window. He looked at me and walked over, careful where he stepped so he didn't fall.

"Getting drunk on the roof? Trying to kill yourself."

He sat down next to me on the edge of the roof and grabbed the bottle from me, taking a sip.