1:24 PM

I couldn't believe it. It had been twelve hours since I had drank the potion. Twelve more hours and I would be history. It had finally started to dawn upon me that I was going to die, but still, I didn't cry. Who did I have to cry for? No one special was going to fade away from my eyes soon that I could call a parent, relative, lover, or friend. Should I have cried for myself? No. I wasn't worth the tears.

I was back in my flat, lingering in the kitchen and making some food for myself to be preoccupied with something to do. I could already start to feel the new bulging fat below my chin from all the food I had digested today.

After I finished eating, I went back to my bedroom and took out a piece of parchment, a quill, and some ink. It was time to say goodbye to my mother. I would have loved to see her in person but that just wasn't possible under the circumstances. Thinking about my childhood and my mother, I started to write.

Mum,

I wish this hadn't happened. I had big things going for me in life for the first time ever, and Dad had to steal. He's stolen enough from me, why does he have to take my life too? I wish you would have done something all those years when he hurt me, emotionally and physically. You don't know how much it pained me to watch you stand by and do nothing about it. Sometimes I hated you for being a mere bystander. I thought you didn't love me. I thought no one loved me, and to this day, no one has proved me wrong. I wish someone would, but I guess it's too late for that.

I want you to know that I'm truly sorry for all the lies that I told all these years. If there's anything I regret, it's me lying to you, because I know how hurt you get by it. I don't know where I learned it, but it always seemed like the easy way out.

You've been a generally good mother to me, and I thank you for feeding and taking care of me. I wouldn't have any other mother, even with all the resentments I have against you. I guess this is really goodbye. Pray for me, and never forget me.

I love you, Pansy

I rolled it up and put it to the side of my desk while I grabbed another one and started writing.

Dad,

I don't hate you. Truly. I do not hate you. I pity you. I pity the man that you've become, and the man you will be when you go to hell, and I'm certain that you will. God will say to you, "A man who is capable of killing his daughter can do anything."

I never understood you, except now. You hate yourself, don't you? Despise the man you've become, and you've got this invisible force field around you to protect yourself from any fault or stinging words. Even if you weren't given love when you were young, you could have at least learned from your mistakes and not try to pass it off to me. You really hurt me, Dad, and even though I know you won't make much out of this letter, I want you to know that I have never loved you.

Ever since the day you lay a hand on me, I knew it was a stranger that had made my mother pregnant. You're just a name for me, Dad. Hell, I could call my old dog my Dad, because at least I know he wouldn't spit on me or bite me like you have. You've never taught me to forgive, and for that, I will never forgive you. You will remember my words for your seven lifetimes to come and they'll keep on haunting you until you're in your grave.

When I was a child, I had hoped that you would change, but I've learned today that hope is useless. This is my last word to you.

Pansy

I could feel the tears coming. Tears of bitterness at my father. Tears of regret. Why had I ever visited them? It ended up costing my life.

I gave both rolls to my owl Fudge and watched him fly into the distance from my window. I sat back down on my chair and sighed, thinking that maybe I shouldn't have sent those. The one to my mother should have been less accusing and I should have been crueler to my father. Oh well. What's done is done.

Time awaited me. What should I do now?