Gabrielle Lansherr
To my wonderful family,
I have seen terrible things in my dreams, as of late. I feel the hand of death is closing around my heart, to crush it and destroy its beat. I know I can not change this. I can only hope that you live good lives in the future ahead.
Wanda, you are a sweet, wonderful daughter, and every woman's dream child. Never let others say otherwise. Your intelligence and laughter makes my heart weep for joy and thank whatever deity was merciful enough to grant me the joy of being your mother.
Pietro, you are a strong, handsome boy. Someday you will change the world, and make it the beautiful garden it once was. You are so clever, and caring. I'm always amazed at the things you can do. I can not express my sheer joy every time I realize that I helped in bringing such a wonderful child into the world. You have the mark of fate on you. You shall be the father of a brave new world.
Eric, you are the light that shines on my life. What will happen will hurt you very much. I wish that I could comfort you ahead of time, but I don't want to worry you. So I only hope you will find this, and know that you are loved so completely and wholly that the only thing that loves you more than I is God himself. May he protect you and our children, for I am to go where I can not do this.
With everlasting love,
Mother.
Erik Lensherr
How do I begin to write to children I don't even believe exist? They tell me my son is insane, and shut away in an asylum, and my daughter is being raised by a men who wears my face, but sees her only as a weapon for Xavier.
Xavier. The name alone make my stomach churn. If I could find him now, there would be no chance of his surviving the encounter, if I had to kil us both to do it.
I will find you, someday. I will fight for you, if all else seems false. You are the only family I have now. You are the only family I need. Fury gave me all I need to know you are truely alive: a picture. Wanda (who else could it be but her?), is nearly the twin of her mother, and my heart aches for a woman I will never see again. Pietro is so different. His pain is obvious. To think that another man made my cheerful, beautiful son into this is enough to drive any man to madness. The fact that he wore my face while doing so is more than I can ever forgive, if I could have forgiven him for harming my children in the first place.
I will find you again, and we will be a family. If I have to pull apart the earth and tear heaven to pieces.
With a love I once wished had died,
Eric.
Pietro Maximoff
Dear Wanda,
I know you're probably really sad right now. I should apologize. But I'm not gonna. Because this isn't about you. Everything else has been about you and Father. Every decision I make has you looming as a consequence. I was living merely to see him die.
He's dead, now.
Check the news. Watch the papers. If you're feeling particularly morbid, look in my closet. I'll let you figure out what you'll find.
You should be happy. Celebrate. The bastard's dead, never to abuse us, and treat us badly, or come close to us ever again. You would have seen the inside of an asylum too, if he'd known about the child.
The child is another point. You should kill it. It'll die anyway, or be so deformed and insane it can't function and might as well be dead. The only way you'll ever have a good life is if you do it alone.
The only way either of us can have a good life is to live it alone.
I left enough money for you to get a good doctor to take care of the kid, whatever way you decide to do that. There's also directions to an abortion clinic there, too.
Bet you thought I'd cut myself open, huh?
Maybe later, we'll see how the night goes.
Have a good life without me,
Pietro.
Wanda Maximoff
Dear Pietro,
You'll never read this. Even if I find you, even if you come back, you'll never see this.
Because I hate you for this. And I never want you to know that. You are a selfish, childish asshat for leaving me. And advising me what to do with a child that you gave up any and all rights to the moment you walked out? Not a way to win favor, either.
I'm not giving up on this child. Nor am I giving up on our father. He's not the man who raised us. Kit found him, and brought him here. He knows about the child, but not who the father is.
He looks just like you, if you'd let your hair be its natural color. He's got scars too. Terrible scars. You know what those scars are from? Growing up in a concentration camp. But, then again, you don't know much history, since you persistently skip class. So let me fill you in.
Concentration camps are where our European ancestors were sent to be worked ot death, raped, murdered, tortured, experimented on, and all manner of cruel and terrible things. Our father, not the man who raised me and sent you away, lived in that. Our mother, too. Remember the long scar on her arm? Or the way she limped in the rain?
Our child's a girl. I'm naming her Gabrielle, after our mother. You'll never know that. You won't know a thing about her, and she'll always wonder why everybody else has a daddy but her. She'll wonder why her grandpa is the one to raise her, and teach everything she needs to know about life. She won't question why she looks like him. She won't ask whether we were related. She will ask why her father didn't love her, or me, enough.
I am better of without you, and so is she. But only because you have made us live without you. And for that, I hate you.
Enjoy your life alone,
Wanda
Gabrielle Maximoff
Dear Santa,
I don't know if you come to Jewish kids. I don't really think I'm Jewish anyway, even though my granddad goes to synagogue, and mom says that we are, in a loose kind of way. But maybe we're not Jewish enough to be ignored by you.
I know I haven't written before, but I really want something now. Mom's sad, because I keep asking about my dad. And Granddad just pats my head (which I hate But you know how it is with grandparents, you let them pet you if they want), and says that I'm loved by the people who matter.
Did I mention I'm 16? Maybe I should have done that earlier. Anyway, my mom's sad, because this is the age she got pregnant at. Honestly, I think Aunt Kit's one step away form giving her heavy dose of anti-depressants.
So, I should probably get to why I'm writing you. I don't want any material things. If you give me this one request, I'll gladly give up my Hanukah gifts, too.
I want to see my father. Just once. Even seeing a picture of him and my mother together (but not together like that, if you know what I mean). Just to know where I come from.
Thanks in advance,
Gabrielle
P.S. - A picture of Grandmom too, would be nice. Granddad needs something to cheer him up, too. And my uncle Pietro, even though I think he and Mom argued the last time they were together. Just so my entire family can be together, even if half of us are only in pictures.
Reveiw!
Peace and Love,
Panther Nesmith
