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Dear Renée,
I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I made promises to you that I’m not going to be able to keep.
I so wish things could be different, but you’re better off without me in your life.
I’m no good for anyone, and I’m definitely no good for you.
I used to think I could be a kind of mother to you someday.
I mean, not a mother, exactly, but something like it, or like the good version of it.
I thought that when I finished college I would get a job and you could come and live with me and we could really be happy.
I believed it when I said that to you. I would never lie to you.
You’ve had more than enough lies for a whole lifetime.
But I’m a mess, Renée. I’m no good to you.
I don’t have much time. I have to make sure that I’m done before he gets here.
I told him that he needs to be here at nine to look after the baby.
I never told you about the baby, and I’m sorry about that, because now I wish I’d had a chance to see you together.
I was afraid you would be jealous, because you get so angry sometimes. But I’m a mum. Can you believe that?
I fell in love with someone. His name is Jack Miller and he’s smart and funny and really very kind.
We were happy for a while. But then I messed up.
I got pregnant, and Jack wanted me to . .
. Well, he wanted us not to have the baby but I couldn’t let it go, no way, so I had him and he’s beautiful but then I had to drop out of college to look after him and it’s so hard.
So much harder than I was expecting. And I lost Jack.
He’s still here, sometimes, but he doesn’t want to be, because I’ve changed so much. I killed the love that we had.
I’m a terrible mother too. Cameron (that’s what we called him), he never stops crying, and nothing I do makes any difference.
I think I must be a very hard person to love.
I had a best friend called Elsa. We told each other everything.
(Well, not everything. She doesn’t know about you and me, about how we grew up.
You probably know by now that telling people all that just freaks them out.) Elsa doesn’t answer my calls anymore.
She doesn’t understand why I wanted to keep Cam.
She wants to party and have fun with her other friends.
And I’m not the same person I used to be.
I’m boring and drab and I can’t seem to hold a conversation. I don’t blame her for dumping me.
I tried to get help, but that was a huge mistake.
Jack said maybe I was depressed, so I went to see someone, a counsellor at the college.
A guy called Robert Walker. He didn’t help me.
He hurt me instead. He told me I needed to relax and that I should try taking weed and then he massaged my shoulders and then he touched me on my breasts and honestly, Renée, it was all my fault.
You would have made him pay. Right there and then, probably.
As soon as he touched your shoulders. But I just froze and sat there.
And now I feel empty. Like there’s nothing left of me anymore.
I went to the police. Maybe just because I didn’t want to go home.
I’m not even sure I really wanted to be there.
I met with this cop, Judith Lee. She told me I was wasting my time.
She told me I wasn’t strong enough. She sent me home.
I’m not sad to be leaving Cam, because I’m no good for him.
If I stay, I’ll just ruin his life. But I’m so sad not to see you again.
I’m so sad to leave you behind. Because we’re the same, you and I.
The world already destroyed us. Except no.
That’s a terrible thing I just said. You’re so much better than me, darling.
You’re going to live the best life, I just know it.
This is a shitty letter. I want to write it again, to do a better job, but there’s no time.
Take one thing only from this. Take that I love you. Take that you’re better than me. Stronger. Fiercer. This world will be yours, my Renée. I love you.
Margaux