Letters to someone who will love me

I

AUTHORS NOTE:
This is a more personal piece of work for me. Not because I relate specifically to the main character of this story, but rather the feeling of having no true connection to the world, or people, around oneself.

ENTRY I

January 12, 2015

I don't really know what I'm supposed to write. Aunt Wendy said that maybe this would help me "get things out in the open", whatever that means. It's been one month since you've been gone. I miss you. Mark got arrested so Carter and I have been staying with Aunt Wendy. She's been really stressed. I think she misses you more than we do because she feels like she'll fail us. If you were here you would keep encouraging her though. You would tell her she's doing great.

I've woken up early in the mornings a few times and heard her talking to someone on the phone. (I think it's a lawyer) From what little I can hear through the door of the guest room, it sounds like she's trying to get custody of Carter and I. He's too young to understand all of this. Honestly, I don't think he understands what's going on. I'm not entirely sure anyone has actually gone through the process of explaining it to him. Not every 7 year old autistic kid has to sit through their mothers funeral though. Carter just thinks you're gone, but not gone. He thinks that Mark is nothing but his father, not a monster. He thinks that we're having a prolonged sleepover at Aunt Wendy's, not that this is our new home.

Sometimes I find myself just wanting to scream to him that you're never coming back but I know that wouldn't make things better for either of us.

Sometimes I want to blame him for what Mark did just because he's apart of him.

How could someone so innocent be part of someone so cruel?

School starts back in a couple of days and in terrified of how kids are going to treat me. I don't want to hear the gossiping.
"Well I heard that it was an accident".
"Well I heard it was brutal".
"Well I heard she started it".
I don't want to hear it. But most of all, I don't want to hear the "I'm sorry"-s. They aren't sorry. They have no idea what this is like.

I need you here mom. I need you. I miss you. It's funny to think that I use to dread your hugs because I though they were embarrassing; but now I would do anything to hug you one more time. You were the only person to ever truly love me. Aunt Wendy love me but that's different. You were...you. You were my mom. She just can't compare to that. It feels like I have no one to connect with. I'm utterly detached from the rest of the world.
Lost.
Broken.
I don't think I'll ever be able to put all the pieces of my shattered heart back together. Even if I could pick up the pieces, there would always be one missing. You.
Love, 
           Ginger