I moved out today. Well, I was already out the moment they laid a finger on you, but today's the official disowning ceremony of Kamal Hadley's daughter. Dad wasn't even there, but his absence spoke volumes. Not that I care. Now I'm no longer that swine's daughter. Just Sephy. No last name.
My flat is a dingy little place, positioned in the middle of a semi-notorious district, but I'm trying so very hard to not complain. With the money I have in the bank right now, I could probably get a better place, but I know how long that'll last. Better take it a little harder and survive longer, than be stupid and splurge. But I'm so lonely Callum. I don't think I've ever been so completely removed from the world I know, not even when I was miles away at Chivers. I think if I'm completely honest, I have to admit that I'm a tiny bit homesick. Okay, I'm a lot homesick. I never realised how easy I had it, until I am stuck here writing to you under a naked light bulb. I never realised how hard you had it. Oh Callum...
I spent this afternoon thinking, Callum. About you, about us, about our baby. The little thing is moving like crazy inside me, you know, kicking and karate-chopping my innards like there's no tomorrow. I thought babies aren't meant to be this active yet, but then again my knowledge of children and pregnancy is pretty much non-existent. Must've been your genes; you were always the athletic one out of us. I wish you could be here with me now, Callum. Then I could show you our baby's foot when he or she kicks (although I have an inkling that it's a boy – no girl I know moves like that!). Then this horrible place would feel like heaven, because I'd have my complete family here. I'm becoming more and more like you, you know, with this whole romantic and sentimental thing. And to think I was the girl who thought that snogging was the grossest thing ever invented just a few years ago, when fifteen-year-old you kissed thirteen-year-old me down at our special haunt.
When our baby grows up, I'll make sure he knows all about our special place. I reckon even if I tell Baby a story about you every single day, I wouldn't run out of them until the next millennium comes. Minerva told me once that it's extremely weird how I know so much about you, but she just hasn't met love yet. Goodness knows she's sarcastic enough to drive away anyone within a ten kilometre radius of her. Ah, I am being snide and mean again. Why do I do that, Callum? Why isn't my relationship with my sister anything like the close bond you had with Lynette? I was always jealous of you for that one thing, you know. And so very jealous of how you have an amazing mother in Meggie, a woman with a heart big enough to even include me in it, even if that was a long time ago. Sometimes I wish I could trade my place as a Cross just to have a family like yours, and a home where I really belong. Instead I got the platinum spoon in my mouth and a house as empty as a pea husk. And a drunk mother to top it up. I'm not even going to mention my bastard of a father. You know, sometimes I understand why people hate so much. Pure hatred doesn't even begin to describe my feelings towards Dad. And my hatred towards him is a gazillion times less than the feeling I have for myself. I could've chosen differently, you know. I could've kept you alive, and yet I didn't. I wouldn't blame you if you hated me too.
It's scary, Callum, but sometimes I feel that the only thing substantial inside me is hatred and guilt. The exact same feelings that everyone else in this bitter world has, everyone but you and me. So what does that make me now, one of them? I don't want to be, Callum, I don't want to let hate take the place of love. But without you it's so hard to convince myself that love can exist, that it already does exist. Noughts and Crosses, blacks and whites, they've built fences high enough that the prospect of trying to climb over terrifies me. It was achievable when it was you and me against the world, but now that it's just me and our baby, I don't know anymore.
This is completely random, Callum, but did you ever realise that Noughts and Crosses placed beside each other are the exact same as hugs and kisses? The type people add at the end of a letter to someone they love, little xoxo's existing so... perfectly beside each other. If only other people see it like that, eh? Instead of the symbols of opposing teams, separated by a grid they set up themselves. I never understood that game, noughts and crosses. It's so pointless. What's the point of the grid, separating each nought and each cross, when together they make hugs and kisses? Then again, it's like questioning the point of our world, and there's no answer to be found there. We've both learned that the hard way.
It's freezing here, Callum. I think the heating system's broken, if there ever was one in the first place. I have on so many layers of clothes, but I'm still chilled to the bones. I wish I have something of yours, Callum, just a hoodie or a glove or even some socks will do. I never got to tell you, but those girls at Chivers always showed off their boyfriends' clothes in our dorms. Sometimes it's an oversized shirt, sometimes it's a pair of sunnies, but those girls wore it with such pride and love that I wanted to show them something of yours as well. At that point I was still mad at you for not coming after me, but to be completely honest that was what I wished. And right now I want something of yours so badly, just because I can never have you again.
I miss you so much Callum.
I love you so much Callum.
And I will for every breath that I'll take in my remaining years.