It's a couple of nights later, and I can't sleep.

I've been an insomniac before, and I definitely don't like it.

It's so boring! I swear there is absolutely NOTHING to do, and if I didn't know how much you hated to wake up (forget not being a morning person, they needed a whole new word for you...) I might've accidentally-on-purpose made some noise so you'd wake up and talk to me. But I value my life.

Instead, I ran through a short conversation in my head with an imaginary you.

"Elphie, I'm bored

So?

There's nothing to do!

(It was very realistic- I was slightly whiny, you sounded slightly annoyed)

Only boring people get bored.

You sound like my Grandmother.

I'm sure she's a fascinating lady.

What's there to do in the dark?

Pretend you're a mole.

Um...wtf?

They live in the dark...

Oh, you are just so funny...NOT.

And I am so very hurt you think so...NOT.

Pleeease give me something to do!

Paint your nails.

Nah, they're fine.

Do your homework.

Ooooooh...FUN

Ooooooh...sarcasm

Anything else?

Um...write a letter home.

I was about to reply, but then I stopped.

The words stuck in my throat, they stuck in my MIND...you never got letters from home, though I'd sometimes seen you write them.

Oh no, wait, I forgot, you did get THAT letter from your father, the one I'd found you crying over.

I'd read it, and it had been so cruel, I'd put it down at the end, feeling sick.

Oz, WHY? Why did you put up with it, and why did you HAVE to put up with it?

If anybody at Shiz had read the letter, they'd know at once why you were so quiet, so sharp, so closed off all the time. You'd HAVE to be, growing up with a father who'd treat you like that.

One line in particular hurt. It pierced me, even though it was not directed to me.

"If you had been a better daughter, I could've loved you..."

How could you recover from a wound like that? The barb was so subtle, so deadly, making sure that not for one second did you stop blaming yourself.

It was...and i never use this word easily...EVIL. It was cruel, it was evil.

And while you might take it quietly, add it to the hurt you carried around with you every day, and keep on going...well, I couldn't.

I don't like to see people being hurt, especially not friends. Especially not you.

Switching on my bedside lamp, I picked up a pen and note pad.

And began my letter...

XXX

Sorry i haven't updated for AGES. So much c/w, plus the muses were evading me.

A levels are eating my soul, but i hope this chapter is ok.

Review if you want another chapter :)

xxxxx