Journal Entry
September 8th, 1888

Dear Bentley,

I thought I'd moved past needing  to do this in the last year or so, but apparently I haven't. Funny how losing something or someone special brings out the need for your big brother. I can't even imagine the look on your face anymore. What was once so clear to me has faded all too swiftly. Thank goodness for photographs, but none of them have that look that you used to give me that made me figure everything out without even having to ask.

I miss that.

I wonder what you'd say if you knew where I'd landed myself this time. Would you think me foolish or that I did the right thing? I feel incredibly foolish, like I ruined something that I'll never have again, but I didn't know what else to do. I still don't know what to do.  I feel this ever-present ache that I just can't get rid of, I've just learned to live with it over the last few months. There are days I'd give anything to take it all back, to apologize and beg for forgiveness. Some days I find a halfhearted conviction that I did what was necessary and would be better in the long run- but it still hurts. If I made the right choice, why does it still leave me breathless when I think about it?

Tomorrow is his birthday, I think that's what prompted my need to get some of this out tonight. I don't know who else to talk to about it, but this will be the first time since graduation I won't go downstairs in the morning to help cook make something to send or have Harvey pick out some kind of appropriate quidditch gear. It feels weird not to be looking for a new recipe tonight while I sit here doing this instead. I've thought about writing to him so many times and I've only broken down once, right before he left for that ridiculous expedition into Irvingly. I know I can't tomorrow, not without explaining myself, so I won't, but how I wish I could. So you get my ramblings instead, I miss you Bentley.  

All my love,
Elsie

The following 2 users Like Elsie Kirke's post:2 users Like Elsie Kirke's post
   Elias Grimstone, Prudence Browne

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MJ always makes her so pretty

Journal Entry
September 9th, 1888

Tyb,

I told myself I wouldn't write, but it doesn't count if I don't send it, right?

I was up early and I couldn't sleep and I won't be going down to the kitchen bake something like I used to, so I don't know what else to do with myself.

I wished for nothing more than to be able to wish you a happy birthday today like I normally would, I even found a new recipe to try, but I can't and it's all my fault and I'm sorry. What I wouldn't give to take it all back, to apologize until you believe me, but I can't do that either. Some days I have to walk away from my desk to make sure I don't write to you; it still takes a conscious effort even months later. I've started dozens of letters in which I try to apologize and end up scrapping them into the fireplace so I don't send them.

I am sorry for what happened, but I don't think you'd understand even if I tried to explain. I did what I thought was best, even if it doesn't seem that way. I still can't even say with complete conviction that what I did was the only solution, but it was all I could think of. I hope someday you'll understand.

Happy birthday.

All my love,
Elsie

The following 1 user Likes Elsie Kirke's post:1 user Likes Elsie Kirke's post
   Prudence Browne

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MJ always makes her so pretty