Unsent letters of pure frustration,
likely crumpled and discarded as soon as they're finished.
June 17th, 1888

How dare you. How dare you show up at my house in the middle of the night like that. It was reckless and unfair. I knew you were insufferable but what you did was entirely inexcusable; you can't just kiss a girl like that- a girl you sent a gift too not hours earlier- and then get upset with her when she isn't some novice kisser. I thought you might have more to you than stubbornness and pride, but I was so very wrong. You made a fool out of me and I won't ever let you make me feel that way again. I hope the fog swallows you up and that's the last of you.

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a few hours later, probably

I likely saved your damn life- something that wound me up in the damn paper and got me grounded to my home almost indefinitely and that's how you treat me? I risked my damn reputation on making sure you received proper medical care and you selfishly make me feel something for you and leave me like that. Do you run around kissing a lot of girls like that or am I special case? Did you just want to see how far you could push me? Well job well done. I thought that after everything we'd been through that maybe, just maybe you weren't some pigheaded idiot, but no, you're exactly the selfish bastard that I met on the High Street that I thought you were.

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a glass of whiskey in at bedtime

The worst part is that I should be angry- and I am, but I'm also disappointed. In you, in me. It's unbearable; I hate it. I hate that I can't get you out of my damn head. I can still feel your hands on my back, your breath on my lips; the possessive way you pulled me in, only to shove me away. Merlin I can't even focus on a good book. You don't kiss a girl like that and then walk away as if nothing happened.

What the fuck happened? How can you be so careless with what you say and what you do? You started that, holding me there against the counter, asking why I kissed your cheek at the hospital. You know damn well why. I know I've repeatedly said I can handle myself, but Merlin you basically just tossed me aside, as I was standing there in front of you. I cried about it; I'm not some damn statue and I hate that you have the power to do that to me.

The following 1 user Likes February Umbridge's post:1 user Likes February Umbridge's post
   Edric Umbridge

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more unsent letters
morning of June 18th, 1888

I had to drown out the feeling of your lips on mine with whiskey last night, I hope that gives you some kind of satisfaction. I woke up with the worst headache. At least that kept me in bed for half the day and away from my family. Lydia won't even look at me. I think she knows something happened. I've gone and fucked up my maid's opinion of me thanks to you.

I keep telling myself I should have left you on the street that night of the hospital, but I don't meant it. I was an idiot to stay, I should have just taken you and left, but you wouldn't have stayed. I was an idiot to have a high opinion of you, despite the rocky start to our... acquaintance.

---

Was that really the end of it? I question a careless comment and you run away? You can't tell me that kiss didn't mean something. You're a bigger idiot than I thought if you just walk away from something because I called you out on a stupid statement. Merlin, why do I even care? You made it pretty clear that you don't, otherwise you wouldn't have just turned tail and ran like you did.

That look on your face, the way you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand; that's what hurt the most. Like I was some easy conquest who wasn't fun anymore the minute I questioned you. You're a coward, a selfish coward and can't stand that I'm still thinking about you and bothering to even write these though I won't send them.

I should send them.

I should pull every one of them out of the heap in the corner of my room and send them to you. I don't know if it would make me feel better, but at least you'd know. You deserve to know how miserable you've made me. There's got to be some part of you that would give a damn.

  

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Evening of June 18th, 1888

You deserve every one of these. I hadn't intended to send them, but you deserve it.

includes the above letters that were crumpled, smoothed and stuck together to send

The following 1 user Likes February Umbridge's post:1 user Likes February Umbridge's post
   Leah Beauregard

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