"My darling Allison,
Writing this letter to you is the hardest thing I've ever had to do. I've agonised over the words but I've realised that it doesn't really matter because nothing I say will ever be enough for you to forgive me for what I'm about to do. All I can do is hope that maybe in time you'll come to understand, My journals I leave to you, maybe they'll help with that understanding. Do what you like with them, burn them if that's what you desire.
I could sit here and recount memories from over the years but I know I don't need to. I know that you remember.
All I can say is that I love you. I hope one day you'll be able to forgive me. Know that I'm not in pain anymore; I hope that's enough but I fear not.
Take care of yourself my lovely, tell Matt to look after you for me. I must go, writing this is killing me and I can no longer bear to picture the look on your beautiful face as you read this.
All my love, now and forever
Ella was my best friend; the person who knew me better than anyone in the world, my parter in crime and the sister I never had. She left me and this world on July 16th 2007. I miss her; I want her back just so I can slap her and say
"Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you take me with you?"
She did leave me her journals like she said she would, given to me by her mum at the funeral. The funeral was as beautiful as a funeral can be. There were orchids everywhere which she loved but all I could think is that it was pointless, she wasn't here to see them. The church wasn't filled with people, but the people that were there were the ones whose lives she'd touched in some way. People I didn't know existed came from miles away to say goodbye to the girl they knew as Maya. The ones for whom she'd sat up night after night talking to just to keep them safe. They were the ones who'd been there for her time after time but knew nothing about her latest crisis, she hadn't wanted anyone to know because she knew someone would try to stop her and didn't feel strong enough to fight them.
I had to smile when her mum told me what music they'd be playing. She'd told me so many times what she wanted; she'd said she wanted the same song for her wedding. I'd always found it deeply depressing but she said I wasn't listening hard enough. As it played, I sat, tears streaming down my face as I listened to the beautiful melody and the softly sung words and finally understood what she meant. I just wished she could have been there so I could tell her she was right.
After the funeral we all went back to her flat. I'd convinced her parents to do it there, not at her childhood home as the flat was where she'd been at her happiest before it all went so wrong. It felt right to hold it there but at the same time it felt so wrong without the sound of her laughter echoing through the rooms; she had a beautiful laugh. After an hour or so I needed to escape from the crowd and tentatively opened her bedroom door. I don't know why I was scared; it wasn't as if I'd never been in there but it had been her sanctuary and somehow being there on my own felt like a betrayal. I just wanted to feel close to her.
I closed the door, slipped off my shoes and sat down on the bed. In front of me sat the journals that she'd left me. I gingerly opened the first one and started to read.