𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐞

i

Ｌｅｔｔｅｒｓ

1966,
Vietnam.

My dearest, Charles,

I arrived to the camp in Vietnam a week ago and I have to be honest: it is terrible in here. So many wounded people, so many people missing home, so many people dying... I have never seen anything like this.
As how people are treating me, everyone is being completely nice to me. I am in charge of tent number 10. I have to teach the volunteers and help with the most wounded. The Generals and the militants seem nice to us, but we are the only female contact they can have right now.
As why I am writing you, is because I miss you more than I will ever have the courage to admit. I miss you and your morning kisses, I miss our walks around the gardens but most of all, I miss having you next to me.
Don't take me wrong, I will never forgive you for what happened. But at the same time I will never forget you.

Yours sincerely,
Eleanor.

1966,
Vietnam.

My dearest, Charles,

I keep writing these letters because they make me feel better, they make feel like I still have you here with me.
Happy Halloween, by the way. In here, we  decorated the tents with pumpkins and little paper ghosts. It is cute to see the wounded militants smile. It was Rosie's idea to celebrate festivities. We are having a small dance outside, but I am not going with anyone. I can't. I am trying to move on. I swear I am. General Philips has been flirting with me since I got here. He wants me, Charles, he does. But I keep thinking about you.
I am really empty without you. I need you here. I need you in my life. That makes me so mad, because I shouldn't need toe depend so much on anyone, less a man, but I can't help it.

Yours sincerely,
Eleanor.

1967,
New York.

My dearest Charles,

Merry Christmas, Charles. I write you this from Joel's house, who you may know as General Philips. He has taken me to meet his family.
He walked to me one night, saying he wanted to settle down with someone, and that he thought I was perfect for that. I didn't want to. But I am trying so hard, Charles, I am trying to live without you. It is like someone is strangling me every time. I wake up every night, hoping this is all a dream and you are by my side. But it's not you who I see.

Yours sincerely,
Eleanor.

1968
Rio de Janeiro.

My dear, Charles,

Happy 4th of July. You probably already know it but, I married Joel. I didn't know the president was going to appear at our wedding but, turns out he knows Joel. And wherever the president goes, so do the TV cameras and the press.
It's hard for me to call him my 'husband'. Because I wish it was you instead of him. It should be you.
He is a nice man, though. He tries to make me happy. He buys me all the new things you can imagine. But he is not you, and he knows that. I spoke him about you. He is my husband after all. He treats me right, which is what you would have wanted. But I can't love him the way I loved you.
He doesn't spend much time with me. He is leaving for Vietnam soon and he is making me stay. He got me a job in Washington D.C., which is were our house is. I am working as a nurse for kids, which is amazing. All of them are so cute and little.
Now, we are in our honeymoon. Rio is beautiful, Charles. He is telling me to go to bed with him now so I'm afraid I have to leave you, my dear.

I love you, Charles.
Eleanor.

1969
Washington D.C.

Dear Charles,

I want to see your face. I need to see a familiar face. Joel and I have been trying to have kids, form a family for a few months now but we couldn't seem to get it right. I want to give him children, you know? I can't seem to love him so I want to give him something that he actually deserves. And now that he is back in Washington, we were trying... Until I got worried and went to the doctor for a checkup. It turns out I can't have children. You made me leave because you couldn't give me a family, you didn't wanted to have kids you could not give a "normal childhood". Well, it was never happening anyways. I am truly devastated. Those children were the only thing that could make me nearly as happy as I was with you. Joel is sad too, but he is not as hurt as me.
He is taking me to Italy, to make feel better but nothing will heal me now, because you are the exception and you are not here with me. I will try to write you from Italy. If I am lucky, I will learn some Italian. He also promised to take me to Spain, meet my mother's hometown and see where I come from, but now the system is not looking good. I have to leave you now, I have to meet the maids of the new house. We moved into a bigger house, but it will never feel like home. Because home lies where you are, Charles. I am so stupid for being in love with you after all these years, but what can I say: I am a fool for you.

Yours truly,
Eleanor.

1970
New York.

Dear Charles,

A very well dressed man came into my house and told me Joel died. He is dead, Charles.
I cared about him. I can't say I loved him because, I know what love feels like. He tried to make me happy. I am devastated. He left me everything. All his money, all his belongings, are all for me now. But why would I want all of this? I don't care anymore. I can't do anything else other than stay in my house, being a depressed widow in love with another man who is not her dead husband.
I am a mess, Charles. The last time I was like this, Erik appeared and helped me. Maybe it wasn't the best help, but it was help. Maybe I need a familiar face. Maybe I just need a family. Maybe that's what I need.

Yours truly,
Eleanor.

1972
Washington D.C.

Dear Charles,

I need you, Charles. I tried to live without you. I fucking tried. I don't give a damn if you can't feel your legs because I would enjoy just being with you. Fuck legs. As far as I know your legs are not you. I will love you no matter what and I need you to see that. You make me happy. But I hope you are happy and satisfied because if you are not I am going to bloody kill you. If you are as sad as I am, it was your fault. You and your stubbornness.
I hate the fact that you are so important in my life. I've spent 10 years of my life loving you, and half of those years, I was writing letters I will never send because it feels as if I was talking to you. I think I have proven enough that I can't be with anyone else than you. I really expect you to come one day, knocking at my door, saying how sorry you are. I am looking forward to day you say you are sorry so I can tell how stupid you are for making me feel like a mess. I want to kiss you, I want to be with you, I want to feel alive again. I hate you, Charles.

Yours truly,
Eleanor.

A/N
HELLO EVERYONE!
IT'S ME LAURA BEING AS CRUEL AS ALWAYS 😈
Warning: this book is much darker and painful than the first book.