Esme had long given up trying to couch her letters to her father in words that wouldn’t send him running for another glass of whiskey. They read more like diary entries now, detailing everything she went through, no matter how unbelievable it might sound. Her father probably wasn’t even reading them anyway. It just helped to pretend that one of her parents knew what was going on, and putting everything down on paper made it easier to deal with.
Dear Dad,
Things over here are getting really hard. I’m worried Celia’s going to win the election, become lord mayor, and I don’t know what she’s planning. Probably something awful. I’m weeks behind on my schoolwork as well. Because I’m doing everything I can to save Mum, and it still doesn’t feel like enough.
I saw her tonight, and she was like
