Dear Father,
The word itself sounds strange flowing from my lips. Father. What does that word even mean? Do you even fit the requirements?
I have to thank you. No matter how much I despise you I have to thank you for one thing. Today Mum read your latest letter and smiled. It wasn't one of those fake smiles she gives to everyone else; it was a genuine Ginerva Weasley smile. Like the ones she has in the pictures of you two together.
I don't understand why if you were so happy together you left her. I don't understand why you left me. In your last letter you professed so much love for us, yet you won't even come home.
Will I ever even see you again?
However happy you may be at this time, do not take my thanks to heart. For in the same breath that I thank you, I scorn your existence. For if you had never been than Mum would have never been broken. It is simple as that.
Mum refers to you as her addiction. Something she knows is bad for her, but she is so dependant on that she can never let it go.
I don't know how anyone can depend on you. You are a coward.
Do you understand that you are missing my life? All these years that you have been away, they will never be repeated, you will never get to experience them.
For how much longer do you think Mum will wait for you? How much longer will I wait for you?
At least come home for the woman you claim to love. She is breaking down with out you. She is like those porcelain dolls Grandmère will never let me touch. I think one day she is just going to shatter.
Come save her.
She whispers your name in the night. When she thinks I am to far away to hear. When she thinks I am lost in the land of dreams, she calls your name. She says it like a prayer with great reverence. However, I only ever heard her talk like that in the shade of the night beneath the covers on her outlandishly large bed.
Aunt Hermione tells me that one-day you will come home. She is the only one who believes in you.
Isn't that sad? Your own daughter doesn't believe in you, but the girl you tormented in school does.
Have a little faith she tells me.
Do you want to know what I tell her?
How can I have faith in something I can't see, and for all I know doesn't exist.
Your Spiteful Daughter,
Flordelis
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