I would like to state now that I hate this, and the Anon who sent it to me.

Dear Anya,

Where do I even begin with this letter?

I can talk about you as much as I want without getting too emotionally disrupted.  I’ve learned how to do that.  But talking to you…or pretending to, I suppose, that’s…that is a different matter entirely. 

I suppose I should be happy that these things are typed, and not spoken.  Otherwise, it probably would not have been done at all, because I honestly don’t know that I could complete it.

Let us see if I am capable of trying.

The day you were born, I became the happiest man alive.  Which is a bit funny, because I thought that was true when I married your mother.  But, it’s true.  I’d never known such a joy as the first time I held you.  A new life, born from the love of two people who never thought they would live past the age of thirteen.  We never dreamed we would be a part of a proper family again, much less create one. 

You changed that.

You changed everything.

You were the single most incredible thing that had ever happened to me.  You and your mother made up my entire world.  I lived to see you smile.  To make you  screech and giggle and run around the house because bed-time was a game for us.  You were my everything, Anya. 

I was so, so lucky to be a father at all.  And knowing I was given you to make that statement true was the most—What you did for me, for my life, I cannot begin to describe.

I shouldn’t have convinced your mother to move to a bigger city.  I should have known you’d be in more danger there than in that little town you knew solely as ‘home’.  I’m sorry, Anya.  I thought if I could get into University that I could give you the life you deserved. 

I just wanted to give you everything. 

I never meant for you to get caught up in something you knew nothing about.  You should never have suffered.  The worst part of it is that it was my fault it happened in the first place.  They were after me.  They came after me, and you were the one to pay the price for my wrath and their greed.

I’m sorry, Anya.

I can say anything I want about wishing this or wanting that, but the truth is that you are dead because I’m a fool. 

Nothing can change the fact. 

Nothing can bring you back to me.  I cannot hear you laugh or see you smile or watch you grow up.  I lost you.  And the man you knew as your father died with you that night, I think.  I don’t know that you would even recognize who I’ve become.  If you’d seen the things I’ve done, you would be just as fearful of me as your mother was the night you were torn from our lives.

I would have done anything to save you.  But I wasn’t strong enough.  It still haunts me that I had the strength to save Magda, but I had to lose you before I could muster the power to do anything about it.

I loved you more than anything.  I let them take you from me and I couldn’t save you.  I couldn’t even help you.  I couldn’t ease your pain or soothe your terror.

I am so sorry, Anya.

I wonder who you would be today.  Whether or not you would discovered abilities of your own.  You have siblings, you know…two from your mother and one from another.  I wonder what you would have been like as an older-sister to them.  I know you would have enjoyed being the eldest.  You always said you wanted a little brother or sister.

There isn’t a day that passes that I don’t miss you. I think about you often, sometimes overbearingly so.  Tonight, for example.  I know I said I wouldn’t bother with this, but I wish I could see you.  I’m certain it would kill me, but I find myself wishing I could hold you if just for a moment…though I doubt I could ever let you go again if it were to be.

There are times I miss you more than I can bear.  I stopped believing in such things some time ago, but…wherever you are now…I hope you’re happy, Anya.  I hope you’re smiling, and I hope you’re safe and warm.  I don’t know if such things are possible, but for the moment I’m in a mood for wishful thinking.

I miss you so much, sweetheart.

I love you. 

More than words could ever allow, I love you.

Goodnight, Anya.

Posted 1 year ago with 28 notes
#[[Because my inner!Mags could not allow this to be open.]]  #Anya  #letter  #ask  #anonymous