day 34

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Dear Harry,

      I can't take it. You aren't coming home, are you? I haven't talked to the boys since Christmas Eve. I've been sitting on the couch, crying like a hopeless idiot. But, I finally did it. I know you told me to stop, and I did for awhile, just for you. But since you aren't here, I couldn't help myself. I feel like no one cares about me or you anymore. I don't even care about myself. Your disappearance is all my fault. So, I went into the bathroom and grabbed a blade. You'd be so ashamed of me. It felt good, controlling my own pain. So, I did it a couple more times. When I was finished, I washed the blood off in your sink. I wanted you to feel my pain. When I looked up at the mirror, I saw your face looking back at me. I fell to the ground and scooted back. My heart was racing. When I got up again, you were gone. Is this what it takes for you to come home?

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