Dear Harry

Letter four

Dear Harry,

I haven't written to you in five days. I couldn't bring myself to actually pick up a pen and paper and pour my heart out.

The day after my last letter Ginny and her friends beat me up again. I imagined you running up to us and saving me from the pain. I imagined you yelling at them for hurting me. But when I opened my eyes all I saw was Ginny smirking at me before kicking me in the face. My nose is broken and I can barely see on my left eye and my whole body is covered in bruises. For the first time I'm not the one who marked my body.

I feel as if I've let you down, but I know I haven't because you don't even know about me.
You don't know my name.
You don't know I was diagnosed with depression.
You don't know my own dad doesn't care about me anymore.
You don't know that I have cuts covering my thighs and stomach.
You don't know I have a bottle of sleeping pills in my bag.
You don't know I consider swallowing them every day.
And you never will know, because you'll never know about me. I'm just one out of millions, and I let myself think that I wasn't. I'm pathetic, just like Ginny has told me I am all along. She wasn't lying. I deserve this. I deserve all of this.

Love, Florence.