I stared at the envelope, my hands trembling after Harry had passed it to me.
"Do you want me to, um... give you some space? Time alone?" He asked tentatively, "That's private and I don't want to impose-"
God, I loved him.
"You're not imposing, Harry." I whispered tearfully, "An imposter is someone or something that I don't want here. I want you here."
"Are you sure, baby?" He asked gently.
I nodded, "Absolutely. I need you here with me... especially when I read this."
"Do you want me to read it?" He offered, his eyes meeting mine as we sat next to each other on the bed; "I don't want you getting in that state again, Izzy."
I chewed my lip, knowing I'd be unable to get through my father's words without getting upset.
So I nodded, handing him the letter that had discoloured over the years.
"Are you sure you want me to read it, baby?"
I nodded, giving him one more nod of confirmation.
"Do it, Harry." I sniffed, "Do it."
I took a deep breath, just as Harry's finger sliced its way between the envelope, effectively breaking the seal.
"My darling daughter Isabelle,
If you have received this letter from your Gran and you are now reading this, then I guess what I've tried to protect you from hasn't actually worked and my plan has backfired dramatically.
First of all, I am sorry.
I am sorry for all the pain and heartache you have gone through, and I am sorry for putting you through it.
I'm not sure how old you are reading this letter sweetheart, but I just hope you are old enough to understand that I did what I did for you- and partially for my own selfish reasons, which I'll get to in just a second."
Harry paused, before taking another breath and aiming his words my way.
"I just want to take a moment and really make you see how much I loved you. I'm sorry for how things have ended, that I've left you all alone and I'm sorry for the pain I have inflicted on you through my death- I hope you understand why later on in the letter.
I hope by having my words and this letter in your hands, that it will give you the peace of mind that you have probably been craving for since you found out everything... or something, at least.
But I just wanted you to know that you were my everything, no matter what anyone says.
People may call me selfish and say that I chickened out by doing what I did, that I wasn't much of a father because of what I choose to do, and they may very well be right- but nothing, absolutely nothing will ever take away the fact that I loved you more than anything in the world.
You were my life, my love and the apple of my eye Isabelle, you were daddy's girl right from the start."
I sniffed, holding my head back as I tried to make sense of what he was saying to me.
If he loved me so damn much, why did he leave me?
"When your mother and I found out she was pregnant, it was the most incredible day of my life (other than your birth, of course) and I wanted you from the minute we realised your mum was late (I don't mean to make you cringe, sorry); but it's the truth- you were so wanted Isabelle, and I had dreams of you being daddy's girl and your mum would have to fight me for your affection.
Luckily for me, you turned out to actually be a girl when we went for your mother's scan and not only did I have those dreams of you being daddy's girl- but I realised that I would have to watch over you for the rest of my life; like when you'd play kiss chase with the local lads in the street or when you'd finally hit seventeen and you'd want to borrow my car to go out with your friends... or if you'd be wearing a short skirt that I wouldn't deem fit enough because it resembled a belt buckle and not an actual skirt- I had it all baby, including the dreams of giving you away to your future husband.
The second I knew you were a girl, my whole life had changed forever.
I wonder, depending when you're reading this now- have you met him yet?"
Harry stopped, his hand tugging around mine as I cried.
"Carry on," I instructed, "Please, carry on."
He nodded.
"If you have met someone, the lad needs a slap on the back. Thomas women are tough to crack, my mother was one of them, so good luck to the poor boy. He's going to need it.
I hope he treats you well, Isabelle. I hope he makes your dreams come true and is there for you in ways that I cannot be. They say the first man a girl ever loves is her daddy, and that she tries to aim for her partner to be like him- don't do that. Don't end up with somebody like me, baby. Don't reach for the stars, reach for the moon because it's a lot higher. And never settle for less.
You deserve the whole world Isabelle and I hope, one day, if you haven't found him yet, that you will and he will make your world a better place.
As your father, that's all I've ever wanted for you- your happiness was a priority for me and always would be.
So I guess you're wondering why I'm writing this letter, hm?
I wish I knew what it was that you knew baby, but I don't. So I'm going to start right from the beginning, and hopefully you'll have all of your questions answered and everything will make sense."
I nodded, wiping at my face with the palm of my hands.
"I grew up with your mother, I loved her pretty much from the start. We were inseparable, and she, was the love of my life. We did everything together and I was so blessed the day she came into my life, she was the one that every man wanted Isabelle. Your mother was so beautiful, inside and out, she made me laugh, she made me cry, she made my heart ache and fill with pure love just by looking at her- she was everything and more.
We were together pretty much from our teenage years right up to the minute she died.
We never left each other- except for one night, which will haunt me even though by the time you read this, I'll be dead and gone.
Your mother and I had just moved into our flat. We had scrimped and saved for ages, working all the hours to try and get everything that we needed for our new home. We were excited at what the prospect of living together could bring us- we didn't have much, we had a black and white TV for goodness sake, and because we didn't have enough money for a proper settee, we ended up with deck chairs in our living room so we had something to sit on- yes, deck chairs!!"
I giggled, God I giggled so hard, tearfully imagining the both of them sat in the front room on deckchairs watching the television.
"But we were happy, Isabelle. As long as we had each other, we were happy- nothing else mattered. Your mother worked as a cleaner and did gruelling, stupid hours, while I worked at the local garage. Simple, easy money- and we lead a simple, easy lifestyle. We weren't flash people, we didn't care that we didn't have what other people our age had, we just made do with what we had and saved if we wanted something.
On one particular day, I was working late at the garage and I was meant to have walked to your mother's workplace (she was cleaning offices that week, on the other end of town) and I couldn't get there, so one of the lads offered to drop me off to her so I could meet her and walk her back home safely.
But she told me no, that I had worked too and that I should go home, have my tea that she had prepared for me earlier in the day and if I could, could I run her a bath for when she got in.
I wasn't comfortable with this, but like I said, you don't argue with your mother baby.
So, after work, I did something that would haunt me right up to this moment- me writing this letter - that has plagued me endlessly everyday.
The lads were off to the pub after work, and because your mother instructed me to go home, I got teased saying I was (excuse my French) pussy whipped, and that I had to grow a set of balls. I hadn't had a lads night in ages, so after being convinced to go out and blow my day's earnings, I went to the pub and that's where I stayed until closing time.
I'm ashamed to say I don't even know how I got home, I don't remember much- and I hope you never, ever do that.
It's not smart and it's dangerous, Isabelle.
Anyway, I woke up the next morning and it seemed that your mother had already left for work. I knew she'd be pissed at me, so I quickly had a shower and got ready for work, only just as I was about to leave, there was a knock on the door.
It was your Gran."
Harry stopped, his gaze heading towards my direction.
"Do you want me to carry on?"
I nodded, unable to speak.
"I was shocked to see her, and in all honesty, I thought she had come to give me a earful about the night before... I thought she was going to give me a bollocking because your mother was too pissed to do it herself, but something was different, something was off about your Gran.
So I asked her what was wrong and all she said was 'you better come with me', and in that split second, I decided to forget work and to go with Gwen, your Gran.
That's when my whole entire world changed.
I want to be as honest as I possibly can, but I also do not want to burden you with anymore pain and heartache Isabelle.
The night I had spent with the lads, pissing up our money and having a grand old time, was the night your mother was..."
"Your mother was?" I repeated, yet Harry continued to stare at the paper.
"Iz, baby-" he whispered, "I don't think-"
"Please finish it, Harry."
Harry nodded, swallowed deeply and continued to read.
"Your mother was attacked on her way home from work. I can't even write the actual words, but I hope you understand what I mean by attacked. Not a punch or a kick, or even her things getting stolen... sexually attacked.
That's the only way I can put it for you without bursting into angry tears and wetting the paper with them.
While I was in the pub, having a whale of a time with my mates from work, your mother was alone in the dark, with a monster who had taken away everything from her- her pride, her dignity but most of all her heart."
"Oh my God." I choked out.
"That night changed our lives forever.
I felt guilty, responsible even, that I had allowed this to happen to her. I couldn't believe that I had listened to her and let her walk alone at that time of night after the working offices had shut, while I was pissing it up and not having a care in the world.
What sort of bloke did that make me, huh?
What sort of man did that make me?
What sort of man lets their girlfriend walk the streets alone, while he's out getting pissed with the lads?
I hated myself, Isabelle.
I hated what I had done. I hated that I had left your mother alone, I hated that I had listened to her and I hated that he had destroyed your mother and I through one vile act.
Through that one act alone, of what that monster did to your mother, he took away her worth, her privacy, her energy, her time, her intimacy, her confidence and her own voice."
"I'm sorry-" Harry croaked, his voice shaking, "I don't think I can read anymore- I just think, that if this was you-"
"It's fine." I whispered, understanding his point.
"I'm sorry baby, I just- I can feel his anger through his writing and it just breaks my heart reading this out to you-"
"It's fine, Harry. You did really well, thank you."
"Are you going to finish it?"
I nodded, taking the paper from his hands.
"I'll read it out."
"You don't have too, Izzy."
"I want too..." I whispered, "If I... don't, I'm afraid I'll soak up what's left of it inside my head and it'll hurt me even more-"
"Okay." Harry murmured, his hand now tightening around mine; "Okay, baby. Do what you feel is right."
I took a deep breath, wiping my face with the back of my hand again, before starting where Harry had left off.
"I was later taken to a room at the hospital where your mother was waiting for me. She said nothing, absolutely nothing.
I wanted nothing more than to wrap her up in my arms and take back the last twenty four hours, but I knew that I couldn't. Nothing I could do would take away her pain, and that's what hurt the most- the most precious, beautiful thing in my life was hurting and I couldn't do a thing to make her better.
I remember how it was now, how your mother shuffled from room to room with a blanket wrapped around her, your Gran and I following as she went through what was apparently called 'simple procedures'."
"Iz, let me do it." Harry said lowly, "Let me do it. It's okay. I can do it. Let me read it, baby."
I didn't argue, I just handed the piece of paper back to him and cried quietly into the palms of my hands, my mind reeling at the fact that my mother had been raped... brutally attacked by a stranger.
"Your mother was asked to sign papers that said "Rape Victim" and that's when it hit me, that's when I knew that this was real and it wasn't a joke.
Something really had happened, a monster had attacked your beautiful mother and when an officer came and confiscated your mother's working clothes, I had to leave while she stood in a room with your Gran.
I also found that her ordeal still wasn't over, even though she had been attacked hours before. You don't need to know the details Isabelle, but from what I heard will forever stay with me.
Afterwards, the doctors and nurses allowed your mother to shower.
I wasn't allowed in the room, but your Gran later told me that all your mother did was stand beneath the hot water, sobbing as she examined her body.
She said she didn't want it anymore, that she felt dirty, used and not like herself. I was terrified, I didn't know what to do or how to help make it better.
Your mother was petrified of her own body, she didn't know what had been in it, if it had been contaminated, who had touched it... and I wanted nothing more than to wrap her up in my arms and protect her- even though I should have done that in the first place twenty four hours before.
I still feel so much guilt that it eats me up inside.
I had failed your mother, the one person who trusted me and depended on me more than anyone- and I had failed her.
The woman I loved wasn't the woman I knew anymore. Her independence, natural joy, gentleness, and steady lifestyle I had been enjoying with her became distorted beyond recognition. She became closed off, angry, self-deprecating, tired, irritable, empty and the isolation at times was unbearable.
Not only did that monster take away the woman I loved, but he also took away our future and everything we had ever worked for, and were working further for.
He cannot give me or your mother back the life we had before that night. I cannot go back in time and argue with your mother that I was coming to get her, so I could walk her back safely and she could not go back in time and argue with me either."
My heart tore into millions of pieces, thinking of my mother in that state.
"Our lives were never the same again.
As a man, I can't begin to tell you what it was like for me, day in, day out, knowing that another "man" had hurt my beautiful Sienna. Your mother.
I tried to support her in any way that I could, but I still blamed myself and while everything we knew was shattered, he was walking the streets a free man and free to attack again.
Your mother didn't know what he looked like, so was unable to do anything about it.
It was apparently, "one of those things," has the officer explained.
One of those things?
How can you call this one of those things?
While they were drinking coffees and filling their fat, disgusting bellies with doughnuts everyday, I was refrigerating spoons every night so when your mother would eventually woke up the following morning and her eyes were so puffy from crying herself to sleep, I would hold the spoons to her eyes to lessen the swelling so that she could see.
I showed up to work late everyday, and would have to excuse myself and cry in the toilets because I couldn't cry in front of her. I could tell you right now where the best parts of the garage are to cry in, I did it all, I can tell you all the best places in that building to cry where no one can hear you, Isabelle.
Your mother suffered with sleepless nights, and we later had to start sleeping with a night light on, because she would have nightmares of being touched and attacked, and he'd be laughing in her face because he had gotten away with it.
I ended up doing this thing where I stayed up all night so she would feel safe enough to sleep- for three months, I went to bed at six o'clock in the morning.
I'm sorry if you're finding this upsetting, I never wanted you to know any of this, but I have to tell you everything so it at least makes sense.
Telling you half a story darling isn't going to work, and it's not fair on you.
Just trust me when I say that I thought I was doing the right thing, by your mother and by you."
Harry paused, holding his breath as he brought his clenched fist to his closed mouth.
"When someone you love is attacked in the way that your mother was, as a man, there are a barrage of emotions that goes through the head.
I had felt intense anger, and fear. I'm not ashamed to admit that there were fantasies about killing the man who attacked her and random bouts of anger thrown out every now and then.
While I was angry, your precious mother was feeling humiliated, because the act of someone beating you and forcing their privates inside of you garners feelings of helplessness.
The worse part was the fear. It made me feel weak and emasculated that I wasn't there to protect her, despite what she had said to me.
Her attacker has never been caught yet, meaning there was the persistent fear of wondering whether this guy know where she is and if he is still watching her.
She later gave up her job, and became severely depressed. Your mother used to pride herself on her looks and independence, but overnight she suddenly became afraid to go on walks in the evening, to afraid to attend social events with our friends where she should have been comfortable being.
But she wasn't.
She had become a little barnacle, always needing to be at someone's side, to have me standing next to her, standing outside the women's toilets when we did go out because she didn't want to walk out alone, I had to sleep beside her always, protecting her because her guard was too far high up and she couldn't relax to sleep.
Your mother found it incredibly embarrassing at how feeble she felt, how timidly she would move through the next couple of months of her life, always guarded, ready to defend herself, ready to be angry... and then she was pregnant."
I looked up, immediately catching Harry's face.
The fear ripped through me like a tidal wave, too powerful to stop it once it began smashing it's way through my already broken down core.
"I'm the product of rape?"
"We don't know that yet," Harry said quickly, as my face began to crumple, "We don't, Izzy. There's still so much more to read-"
"I don't think I can hear anymore, Harry."
"I can stop, if you want me too?"
But I knew deep down I couldn't let him, because we had gone too far into this for us to stop now.
"No, please carry on."
Harry nodded, before starting up again.
"Your mother was never the same again and just three months after the attack had happened, our whole world turned upside down yet again."
I broke down, the sobs coming loud and fast through my nose and mouth, the sound of them bouncing from the walls.
"Iz, baby, I'm so sorry-" Harry said softly, his hand tugging at mine; "We're stopping, this is too much-"
"No. I have to read this. I have to finish it. Please Harry, I need to know-"
"Okay..." he croaked, mentally pulling himself together, "But if it's too much, we'll put it away and come back to it." he added, before continuing.
"Like I said, I was thrilled when I found out your mother was pregnant.
It was the golden ticket and the brand new start that we needed. We had spoken about children before, and we always said we would start trying once we had moved into a bigger place- but of course, you had other ideas.
It never occurred to me that you wouldn't have been mine, because from the start you was. When I realised your mother was late, I never for a second thought 'shit, it can't be mine,' because of what happened because as far as I was concerned, you were mine.
It wasn't until we had an appointment and the dates were so close together, that it hit me that there was a possibility that you may not be mine.
The news crushed us.
Not only had he destroyed your mother and our relationship so far, but there was also a possibility that this monster had gotten your mother pregnant and there was a chance you was his.
How much more could we take, seriously?
We cried and cried and cried until we couldn't cry no more that night. Because of the attack, your mother was offered an abortion and counselling; and was sent away to think about what she wanted to do.
We agonised over this for days, arguing and yelling, screaming at each other in fury because of the pent up anger we had kept in.
I wanted to keep you, I wanted you more than anything. I believed you were going to be the gift that would fix us, that would bring us back together to the way we were before this nightmare had even started.
But your mother thought otherwise."
"She didn't want me?"
"No, you don't know that." Harry softly argued, "And you can't think like that, Izzy. She had just gone through... something awful, traumatic... and she clearly wasn't thinking straight-"
"It's there in black and white, Harry." I croaked; "She didn't want me... but he did. If he wanted me that much, why did he leave me? And where's Ryan in all of this?"
"I don't know babe. Shall I carry on?" Harry asked, and I nodded, urging him to carry on.
"She was petrified that the baby (you) was a product of her attack, and she didn't want to look you in the eye for the rest of her life and be reminded of that night.
I tried to talk her out of it, telling her that there was a 50% chance that you could be mine and we should at least discuss this properly... but your mother had already made her mind up and I had no choice but to accept it.
She couldn't take the risk and she was going to have an abortion, but when the day was upon us, I made an oath to God and promised I would support your mother regardless of my feelings.
It was her body that had been through hell, she had been the one who had been attacked, and she would be the one potentially carrying her attacker's child- I couldn't force that upon her, so as much as I wanted you, I couldn't be that person.
I had to support her, Isabelle.
But then, for some unknown reason why, your mother had a change of heart- and she decided not to have the abortion. I was elated.
I didn't care about the other 50% chance that you may not have been mine, the way I saw things, you were our fresh start and you were the light at the end of the tunnel baby.
I don't know what it was that changed your mother's mind, but everyday I thanked God that she did, because her life changing decision brought me you- my beautiful, beautiful girl.
And this is when it starts to get complicated, but I promise I will try and break it down for you Isabelle.
Your mother decided to keep you, and through that decision alone, her depression had slightly lifted. She started singing again, cleaning the house up, she was eating and drinking more regularly, and she was taking care of herself again- you were the remedy that she needed to get better Isabelle.
You made her better."
I cried harder, feeling Harry's gaze on me, his hand squeezing my own tightly.
"It was at her routine scan that things went even more better for us. We found out you was a twin, that there was in fact two of you inside your mummy... I'm not going to lie, but I was shitting myself.
The thought of looking after one child was scary enough, but two?
Your mother was excited, she had that pink blush back in her cheeks again, she was happier than normal and on that day, we decided to get married.
It was nothing flash, we just literally took a bus down to the registrar office and got married after our hospital visit, our scan photos of our babies tucked safely in our pockets.
The only witness we had was my best friend, which was good enough for us. I managed to get my dad's suit, while your mum wore a beautiful red dress.
Life went on pretty quickly, and as your mother grew more beautiful as the days went on, so did her bump.
One minute I was talking to a small one, the next it was humongous and it felt weird talking to you both, but I enjoyed it because I knew you could both hear my voice.
Even then, as I look back now, I still didn't think that for one second there was a chance that you guys weren't mine, because in my heart, you were... and even if you weren't my blood, I was your father and that was the end of that."
"So why was Ryan adopted?" I cut through Harry, "If he said that, and that's in his own writing, why was Ryan adopted and not me?"
"I don't know babe, I'll carry on."
"And then your mother became really ill, and it was then established that not only was she pregnant with you two, but she also had developed ovarian cancer.
It's so hard writing this down, you have no idea.
You're currently out the back garden, playing with your Barbie dolls and splashing loudly in the water, without a care in the world. You have no idea the pain I'm about to inflict on you in years to come baby and I'm so sorry that I've had to break it to you this way.
You're having an absolute ball with your friends at your birthday party, and it hurts me seeing you so happy and not having a clue at what is about to be unleashed to you.
A part of me hopes that it never will, that you'll never find out, and you'll live your life the way you should, the way you deserve... and that you'll be happy, settled, content and loved by someone who's just as lucky to have my beautiful baby in his life.
I hope that you never find this and that you get to life your life the way your mother and I intended.
We never wanted to hurt you, sweetheart.
You're smiling at me right now, and your face is an absolute picture.
I know more than anything all you've ever wanted is your mother on your birthdays, and it pains me that I can't give her to you.
You were never a spoiled child Isabelle, you were simple, just like your mother.
You liked simple things, and never liked making a fuss of things- exactly like her.
You are the image of your mother, Isabelle.
I'm watching you now, while you play with your friends, the way your voice screeches a little higher because you're so happy.
It's the way you flick your hair back exactly like she did, or your eyes... your eyes are the exact carbon copy of your mother's, and don't get me started on that beautiful smile of yours.
You are the spitting image of her, and some days I find it a struggle to look at you because all I see is her in you.
Your mother fought brilliantly and beautifully, Isabelle.
She declined all treatment because at this point, we had found out that you was a girl and your twin was a boy. One of each.
She wasn't even a proper mama yet, but already she was protecting the two of you from all the chemicals that would be pumped into her body.
I'll never forget the minute she told me of her decision, that her body had been through enough and if this was the last thing that she was going to do on Earth, bringing you two into the world- then she was going to do it right.
She was a mama before the two of you were even born.
You both made her better, you resurrected her and brought her back from the dead after the attack had drained her.
I can never thank you or your brother enough for that. You both brought her back to me."
"This still doesn't make any sense-" I whispered tearfully.
"There's more," Harry replied, "I'm almost done, Izzy."
"In all honesty, I knew deep down that your mother was going to leave me.
She had made her decision to not have treatment because she was pregnant with you two, and I can only apologise for what you've been told.
Your mother's last wish was that if anything were to happen to her during the labour, you and your brother were to be told when you were old enough that she had accepted chemotherapy and radiation during her pregnancy, which sent her into early labour and that's what made her pass away during the childbirth.
But that's not the case.
She had specifically written in her labour plan, that if anything happened out of the ordinary, that under no circumstances were the doctors to resuscitate her. She had planned this all along, it was her choice to die.
For so long, I thought she had been getting better with her depression, but in actual fact, it made her worse.
She made me believe that she was better and life was getting good again, when in fact as soon as she had been told about the cancer, she was ready to die.
She had made her decision and wanted her pain and suffering to end.
She couldn't live with the fact that this monster had ruined her, had turned her life upside down and on top of all that, had cancer thrown at her as well.
It wasn't the cancer or you that killed your mother, Isabelle. Your mother went into labour, and shortly after you had been born, your brother was in distress and your mother died not long after giving birth to him.
Her heart had simply given up.
All of her fight, all of her fury, anger and pain had dissipated, and she allowed herself to die.
There was nothing I could do, I couldn't force the doctors to work on her and bring her back to me, because her wish was signed and dated in black and white.
She had made her choice and I could do nothing but accept that.
My life, my love, my heart was gone... and she left me with one last gift, you and your brother."
It was too much, I couldn't hear anymore... I didn't want to hear anymore, not right now.
"Baby, Izzy-" Harry called out to me, yet his voice seemed to sound like it was a million miles away from me.
I stared into space, my arms holding myself in order to try and protect myself from further harm.
I wasn't completely naïve, I knew that everyone goes through their fair share of heartbreak at some point in their lives and that there is no way to avoid it, but I was almost insanely positive that I had enough of it to last me a lifetime.
Feeling Harry's arms wrap around me from behind, I revelled in the way he was making sure that I was alright and how he was nudging me to deal with my heartbreak and devastation into his direction.
"Let it out, Izzy, don't keep it in... hit me if you want too, punch me, scream at me... anything, just don't keep it locked in." Harry said shakily, "Baby?"
"They told me she died giving birth to me... how could they do that? How? Why would you do that to your child?" I cried helplessly, "I have suffered, for so many years thinking that I had killed her when I hadn't Harry- why, why would you inflict that on your child? Who could do something like that? Why would you do such a thing? This isn't protecting me- this is, this is-" I stammered erratically.
"We still don't know the full extent of it yet, baby." he whispered, his hands holding up my head; "God, you're breaking my heart... seeing you like this, you're breakin' me babe-"
I sobbed harder.
"Why would she want that in her notes Harry? Why? If she wanted to die, fair enough, that was her choice... after everything she'd been through, she had no fight left in her... but why put that on me for so many years- why not just tell me the truth? Why make me think that it was all my fault?"
"I don't- I don't know, Izzy." he cracked, his hands now brushing back my hair and stroking away the tears that were falling excessively down my face; "I really don't know baby, but just remember that you have me... always. You'll always have me."
His words were enough to completely shatter me.