She holds the paper in her hand, her fingers running along the worn lines of parchment where it has been folded and refolded many times over the years. The handwriting is the awkward script of a young child still learning how letters are meant to be formed. She knows she should throw it away, but knows that at the same time, she cannot. She does not even notice that the tears which trail along her cheeks also fall onto the words, blurring the ink. But they are words she knows by heart–and so it matters not–from a letter never sent.
Dear Lord Voldemort,
I don’t think you know me, and I don’t think you care, but you knew Mummy and Daddy and they knew you. At least, that’s what they told me before they went away. Gran says that they won’t be back for a while, and I know it’s your fault. Gran doesn’t say that out loud, but I know it’s true.
Mummy was so scared when she told me to hide. I think she was crying, and maybe I was crying too. I don’t really remember. All I remember is that Daddy wasn’t there. Mummy said I should keep really quiet and then you wouldn’t find me, because she said you wouldn’t be looking. She said she loved me and said no to be scared. I don’t know why. All I know is that she was scared because of you. Gran doesn’t say this either, but I know it’s true. It has to be, because I saw you and remembered you from a picture I’d seen before. Mummy showed it to me and said you were a bad man. I think you’re a bad man, Mr. Voldemort.
It was so dark in the cupboard I could hardly see. Except, Mummy didn’t close the door all the way when she said to stay, so I could look out of it a little. That’s when I saw Daddy. He was shouting, and I covered my ears because I don’t like it when he yells. Then he moved and I don’t know where he went. Then he wasn’t shouting anymore. I heard Mummy crying, but I don’t know why. I don’t like it when Daddy’s really quiet either, and I hate it when Mummy cries. Mummy hardly ever cries, but when she does, it hurts.
I heard you laughing, and I don’t know why. When Mummy cries, it makes me so sad because I know she’s sad too. Your laugh wasn’t even a happy laugh. It was angry and mean, but you were smiling. Why were you smiling, Mr. Voldemort? Your smile doesn’t make me feel all warm like when Daddy smiles and kisses my face. I was glad that I was hiding. Your smile made me feel scared, even though Mummy said it would be okay.
But that’s not what made me the most scared of all. I heard Mummy screaming, and it made my tummy feel sick and my skin feel cold. Did you hear her screaming, Mr. Voldemort? Because you were still laughing and I started to cry and I saw Mummy falling on to the ground. I think that maybe you hit her, but I couldn’t really see because my eyes were all wet.
When it got quiet and you were gone, I came out just like Mummy said I could. But Mummy and Daddy were lying on the floor together and they didn’t move when I talked to them. Their faces looked so scared and surprised it almost didn’t look like them, but I knew it was because I saw Mummy’s pretty black hair and Daddy’s big brown eyes. They felt so cold. I put my head on Daddy’s chest to listen to the thump thump thump of his heart, but I couldn’t hear it anymore. Maybe his heart was sleeping.
Gran came later and she started to cry, too. I didn’t know why. I thought Mummy and Daddy were just taking a nap like they make me do sometimes, but now I don’t think so. I don’t think they’re ever coming back. Gran doesn’t say it out loud, but I know it’s true. I know that Mummy and Daddy are dead, and it’s all your fault.
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