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Dear World,
When I was little, my brother and I used to write letters to each other. 'Dear Lavender,' 'Dear Andrew,' We used to tell each other everything in those letters. All the things we were scared to say out loud. That is the basis for this letter. It is to any one and every one. It is All the words I could never bring my self to say out loud.
Before everything around me went to hell, my mother told me to always look to the future. That was where life lay. Ahead of me. At the time I felt 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 it some day might but it never did and 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 through every part of me. 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 and 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 in hell can that be mine?" As if I was a thing rather than a person.
When sober, he was a pleasant man. The man my mom fell in love with and married. The man she had two children with. I have only dim memories of this man. I got good at avoiding both of my parents when I could which ment 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 no idea what was going on. Mom had sat with us only moments 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. Going home at holidays and 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 about 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 some guy's bastard Daughter... Ashamed that I might turn out 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 who I was and those unhidable 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 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 games. The rest of us went about our lives, living out 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 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 want out so badly. I am sickened by the sights and the smells. The way people feel they have it so badly off but never stop to realize some one'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 is wrong. I've known it was wrong for a long time now but can't stop it. He's done it so many times before and never before has it gotten to me the way this last time did. 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. 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 but the end never the less. I only hope that some one 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 back round 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
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Dear World,
When I was little, my brother and I used to write letters to each other. 'Dear Lavender,' 'Dear Andrew,' We used to tell each other everything in those letters. All the things we were scared to say out loud. That is the basis for this letter. It is to any one and every one. It is All the words I could never bring my self to say out loud.
Before everything around me went to hell, my mother told me to always look to the future. That was where life lay. Ahead of me. At the time I felt 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 it some day might but it never did and 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 through every part of me. 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 and 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 in hell can that be mine?" As if I was a thing rather than a person.
When sober, he was a pleasant man. The man my mom fell in love with and married. The man she had two children with. I have only dim memories of this man. I got good at avoiding both of my parents when I could which ment 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 no idea what was going on. Mom had sat with us only moments 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. Going home at holidays and 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 about 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 some guy's bastard Daughter... Ashamed that I might turn out 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 who I was and those unhidable 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 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 games. The rest of us went about our lives, living out 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 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 want out so badly. I am sickened by the sights and the smells. The way people feel they have it so badly off but never stop to realize some one'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 is wrong. I've known it was wrong for a long time now but can't stop it. He's done it so many times before and never before has it gotten to me the way this last time did. 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. 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 but the end never the less. I only hope that some one 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 back round 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
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