elemental (m.r)

sixteen

7 DAYS

Annie hated her middle name. Lilith. She was sure her parents couldn't have come up with a more pretentious name, and yet here she stood, known to the world as Annie Lilith Frotzillar. An odd name at best and a hideous one at its worst. It reminded her too much of pretty flowers, flushed with the comings of spring - a season that she detested more than words could convey. Why should nature get to start again, she would always bitterly ask herself? Why was it that the trees around her, oak and spruce, were able to shed their mistakes throughout the colder seasons only to be reborn, ready to enter the world once more as though they were wiped clean? It seemed much too unfair for her liking, and despite the nature tones she associated with her middle name, she wasn't sure she wanted to be a tree. To lose oneself continuously, banned to a life of no true belonging, was perhaps a fate even crueller than the one in store for her. Indeed, Annie Lilith Frotzillar fucking hated her middle name.

On the 20th of January, however, it was a tad bit different. Odd, yes, but different. For on that Thursday morning that Annie Lilith Frotzillar woke up in the warmth of her bed, surrounded with her still sleeping friends, it was her birthday. The windows were slightly ajar, no doubt due to Lavender forgetting to close them like she did every night, letting a stream of cold flushes of air touch the already pink of her cheeks. She could hear her owl, Orion, chirping quietly in the corner to himself, with a letter sat firmly in his beak. Upon awakening, he fluttered over onto her bed and plopped it by her pillow before seemingly sitting back in his original position.

Due to the harsh winter weather, it was still dark outside despite it being 7 in the morning, and Annie forced herself to rise so that she was sat up to examine the letter. She was still exhausted, as she was most mornings, but if she wanted to ensure nobody heard her screams from the night terrors she was subject to, it meant waking up before everybody else. A sad fact, but reality. She hated that they would only leave her when she was in the arms of the boy she had sworn to loathe for all of eternity. She hated it even more that she longed to be in them every time she slept in her bed.

The small brown letter was sealed with a red wax stamp, one which she recognised almost instantly. In true Thomas Aves fashion, it had the family sigil staring proudly up at her, as though it was no more than a humorous joke the pair liked to share. Annie grinned to herself, tired fingers lifting the flap and opening to read the letter inside. Thomas made sure to send a handwritten message for her birthday each year, something she secretly looked forward to. Once open, she began to read.

To my darling Annie.

Something tells me you'll be reading this at an  ungodly hour, and if so, do write back to let me know so I can go ahead and speak with Madame Pomfrey about the strength of your sleeping tonics. You need rest, my love.

You are nineteen today, and although it feels like yesterday I held you in my arms at your birth, each day since then has been the greatest honour of my life. What a joy you are, and I miss you terribly. Esme mopes around the house whenever you're gone, and I doubt I'm much different; we look forward to Friday's. Your letters bring us so much comfort.

I remember being nineteen. The word was much too scary for my liking, and I fear not much has changed since. If it were up to me, I would shelter you from each corner of this earth and let you only taste happiness; I hope I have granted you a tiny seedling of that despite not being with you today. Lord knows you have done so for me, my sweet.

I'm in the greenhouse right now, we usually spend most of our time here when you're away, but you already know that. You can probably smell the scent of the flowers on this piece of paper - your roses are blooming, by the way! I can't wait for you to see it. Although I must admit, they pale in comparison to you.