Makenzie Newell
November 22, 2016 10:47 PM
A letter from home. by Makenzie Newell
Dearest Makenzie,She wasn’t feeling very hungry today, but she was feeling pretty tired, so Makenzie decided to head back to Crotalus and take a nap instead. When she arrived in the dorm room she shared with Araceli and Shino, her eyes were immediately drawn to the envelop sitting on her desk, her name boldly glittering in dark ink, the handwriting cursive and neat. For a brief moment, she thought it might be from her mother, who had gone back to her Hartfield life at the first sign of trouble, as if the last twenty years had never happened. It made Makenzie hesitant to open it, but she did, and she discovered that she was wrong.
Your Uncle Roger and I have visited your father.
She swallowed. Aunt Sylvia had never written to her before, and she was surprised especially to be written to on this topic. Her aunt and uncle had been kind to her over the summer, doing their best to make her feel at home, almost like they wanted her to forget her pain completely, as if she had always been their extra child. Now they mentioned her father in such strong and clear language that her breath caught in her throat.
He is doing fine and sends his regards. He hopes you have not been too worried about him.
Not too worried? Makenzie had been almost sick with worry for most of the summer and now half of a semester. The last time she had seen him, he’d been ripped from their home and dragged away by Aurors. Now he was in prison. Hearing him described as “fine” did little to reassure her; she felt nothing one way or the other as it was no indication. She doubted prison was “fine”, but if he wasn’t, she didn’t think they would tell her. The redhead’s own parents had always been open and honest with her, but she did not expect the same courtesy from other adults.
There were some filler bits, none of it mattering, none of it really processing. Then:
Your father would like to see you over your Midterm break, but it is completely up to you whether you would like to go or not. Think on it as long as you like.
All my love,
Aunt Sylvia.
She gripped the letter tightly, the paper creasing. Did she want to visit him in prison? Makenzie missed her father more than anything in the world, but she didn’t know if she could go and see him like that, stripped of all dignity, trapped in stone walls against his will, so close to her and yet still so isolated. She did have time to think, but not nearly enough.
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Makenzie Newell
A letter from home.
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Makenzie Newell
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