Dear World

Dear World,

When I was little, my brother and I used to write letters to each other. 'Dear Lavender,' 'Dear Andrew'. In those letters we used to tell each other everything - all the things we were scared to say out loud. That is the basis for this letter. It is meant for anyone. It is all the words I could never bring my self to say out loud.

Before everything around me went to hell, my mother always told me to look to the future because that was where life lay - ahead of me. At that time, I felt like I was always running to catch up to it but never could and in a way, I still feel that way. I guess that's why I liked Divination so much in my third year.

That class was a chance for me to see what was coming and avoid the bad stuff. But it never worked. I never lost faith that some day it might show me the future but it never did and the faith faded to hope and hope to longing for it to be so. That longing turned to despair as the darkness got heavier, but it still never worked. .

So, I guess this is it. Goodbye or whatever you want to call it. I just can't take it any more. I know now that it isn't right for me to be afraid of going home. Leaving with such fear in me that I can feel it vibrating in every part of my body. But for a long time, I couldn't see that.

My father used to tell me I wasn't his kid. Mostly when he was very drunk but then again, he was always drunk. He drank because he couldn't get a job and no one would hire him because he was a drunk.

"Look at you!" he'd tell me. "How the hell can that be my blood?" As if I was a thing rather than a person.

When sober, he was a very pleasant man to be with - the man my mum fell in love with and married. The man she had two children with. I have only dim memories of this man. Over the years, I got good at avoiding both of my parents when I could, which meant that sometimes I'd miss out on the good while hiding from the bad.

He once accused my mom of trying to rape my brother. He hit her hard across the face.

"You're sick, Valerie! You know that? Trying to rape your own kid!"

Andrew and I sat unnoticed on the couch in the other room. He had tears in his eyes but he had no idea what was going on. Mum had sat with us only for a moment before in a blissful state with her arm harmlessly over my brother's shoulders.

That's not rape.

So you can see why I leaped at the chance to get away from it and go to Hogwarts.

I went home at holidays only happy to see Andrew. My father, harmless as he may appear at times, filled me with fear. Although he never hit me, just to think of him sent fear rushing through my body.

A fear that physically hurt. A fear that felt like my chest would burst apart and it was the fear of what might happen instead of what did.

Likewise, my mother filled me with shame. I was ashamed that she put up with it and ashamed that I might really be someone else's bastard daughter... ashamed that I might turn out to be like her.

At school, I was a different person. I decided on the interminably long ride to the train in my first year that I would not be my mother. I would not sleep around but I would give the appearance that I might. I would not be my father. I'd never raise a hand but I'd act like it had never happened to me. I wouldn't be my brother. I would be strong but know when to be meek to avoid confrontation. I would be Lavender, child of no one.

I guess that at the age of eleven I didn't think of it in those terms. The life that Hogwarts saw was created by my subconscious. But I could wholly swallow whom I was and those unlivable parts became mixed in with my new life that it was almost impossible to tell what was fabrication and what was real. Even now, I have a hard time telling the old from the new.

As much as I swore I'd be different, I found myself as one of the forgotten students.

We are the ones who live in Gryffindor tower but yet worlds away from Potter's fame. We basked in the reflected glow of his house points and won Quidditch matches. The rest of us went about our lives, living out our romances and friendships in the space of weeks some times, with no thought to us except when we might be used or manipulated to help save the world. Why did I want more than that?

I never told any of my friends what it was like at home. I was coming closer and closer to blocking it all out. They only would have pitied me if I had told them and pity was worse than anything for me. I didn't want pity or comfort. I wanted to be left alone. I wanted out.

I can't say exactly what it is that has pushed me so far. I was doing wonderfully well. There was no defining moment that made me so entirely sick of everything around me that I wanted out so badly. I am sickened by the sights and smells around me - the way people feel when they have it so badly but never stop to realize that someone's always got it worse. I've got it worse. Yes, pity Harry Potter. He's got it so horrible! With his fame and his money and friends. I haven't got any of that. Not really.

Maybe it was Cedric's death. I remember envying him - his freedom from all of this.

I really envied that. I envied the sight of his parents crying for him. I bet my folks won't care. My dad will spit on the coffin and say, "Good, one less mouth to feed." And he'll be right.

And yes, I am afraid to die but I am more afraid to go on living in this world. Afraid my father will come back into my room and do things to me that I know are wrong.

I've known it was wrong for a long time now but I can't stop it. He's done it to me so many times but never before has it got to me the way it did the last time. Before I could always convince myself in some way that I deserved it. That he should do these things to me because of what I am. I see how wrong it is now but that makes it worse. It makes it so much harder for me to live with myself.

So, I guess this is it. More so for me than for you because you'll keep on going. I only hope that someone mourns my passing. Dear world, watch out for Andrew won't you? Keep an eye on him and eye on the future. And by hell, don't end up ashamed of your background or you will end up like this - like me. This is what I have to say to the world. If I can leave nothing else behind, let this be it. Heed my words won't you?


Signed,
Lavender Brown