Letters to the Grave

By Faye Ronson

Letters to the Grave is a book about a teenage girl who loses her uncle and writes letters to him almost like a diary, telling him everything and begging for his help. The teenager, Roxy, battles a lot of mental health issues including depression, anxiety, eating disorders and slight psychosis when she gains a new boyfriend and group of friends that help her through her sickness.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Jan 8, 2014
• ISBN: 9781491881811

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© 2014 Faye Ronson. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 12/02/2013

ISBN: 978-1-4918-8180-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4918-8181-1 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Acknowledgments

Part One

March 1⁵th

March 1⁶th

March 2⁵th

March 2⁷th

April 2⁷th

April 3⁰th

May ²nd

May ⁵th

May 1²th

May 1³th

May 1⁴th

May 1⁵th

May 1⁶th

May 1⁸th

May 2⁰th

May 2¹st

May 2²nd

May 2³rd

May 2⁵th

May 2⁶th

May 2⁷th

May 2⁹th

May 3⁰th

June ¹st

June ²nd

June ⁶th

June ⁷th

June ⁷th

June ⁸th

June 1³th

June 1⁹th

June 2¹st

June 2⁴th

June 2⁵th

June 2⁷th

June 2⁸th

June 2⁹th

July ⁶th

July 1¹th

July 1²th

July 1⁴th

July 1⁵th

July 1⁶th

July 1⁷th

July 1⁸th

July 1⁹th

July 2⁰th

July 2²nd

July 2³rd

July 2⁴th

July 2⁷th

July 2⁹th

July 3¹st

August ¹st

August ²nd

August ³rd

August ⁴th

August ⁵th

August ⁷th

August ⁹th

August 1²th

August 1⁹th

August 2⁰th

August 2³rd

August 2⁵th

August 2⁹th

September ¹st

September ²nd

September ⁶th

September ⁷th

September 1⁰th

September 1¹th

September 1³th

September 1⁵th

September 1⁷th

September 2⁰th

September 2⁵th

September 2⁷th

September 2⁹th

October ³rd

October ⁸th

October 1⁵th

October 2⁰th

October 2⁸th

November ²nd

November ⁷th

November 1⁴th

November 2⁵th

November 2⁴th

December ²nd

December 1⁰th

December 1⁵th

December 1⁸th

December 2²nd

December 2⁵th

December 2⁸th

January ¹st

January ²nd

January ³rd

January ⁴th

January ⁵th

January ⁶th

January ⁷th

January ⁹th

January 1⁰th

January 1¹th

January 1²th

January 1³th

January 1⁴th

January 1⁵th

January 1⁶th

January 1⁷th

January 1⁸th

January 1⁹th

January 2⁰th

January 2¹st

January 2³rd

January 2⁴th

January 2⁵th

January 2⁶th

January 2⁷th

January 2⁸th

January 2⁹th

January 3¹st

February ¹st

February ²nd

February ³rd

February ⁴th

February ⁵th

February ⁶th

February ⁷th

February ⁸th

February ⁹th

February 1⁰th

February 1¹th

February 1⁴th

February 1⁵th

February 1⁷th

February 1⁸th

February 1⁹th

February 2⁰th

February 2²nd

February 2³rd

February 2⁵th

February 2⁶th

February 2⁷th

February 2⁸th

February 2⁹th

March ¹st

March ²nd

March ³rd

March ⁴th

March ⁸th

March 1⁰th

March 1⁴th

March 1⁸th

March 2¹st

March 2²nd

March 2⁷th

March 2⁸th

March 3¹st

April ³rd

Part Two

April ⁷th

April ⁸th

April 1¹th

April 1²th

April 1³th

April 1⁴th

April 1⁶th

April 1⁷th

April 1⁹th

April 2¹st

April 2²nd

April 2⁴th

April 2⁵th

April 2⁷th

April 2⁹th

May ⁶th

May ⁷th

May ⁹th

May 1²th

May 1⁴th

May 1⁵th

May 1⁶th

May 1⁷th

May 2¹st

May 2²nd

May 2⁵th

May 2⁸th

May 2⁹th

May 3⁰th

May 3¹st

June ³rd

June ⁶th

June ⁹th

June 1³th

June 1⁶th

June 1⁹th

June 2³rd

June 2⁶th

June 3⁰th

July ⁴th

July ⁵th

July ⁶th

July ⁷th

July ⁹th

July 1¹th

July 1³th

July 1⁵th

July 2⁰th

July 2²nd

July 2⁴th

July 2⁶th

July 3⁰th

August ⁵th

August ⁹th

August 1³th

August 1⁴th

August 1⁵th

August 1⁶th

August 1⁸th

August 1⁸th

August 2⁰th

August 3⁰th

August 3¹st

September ³rd

September ⁶th

September 1⁰th

Backwards

Home and Heart

Pain

Liar

Hands

Months

St. Anthony

Treacherous

Realization

War

The Stats Game

For the Beauty Queen of 1970’s

Whirlwind in April

A Note On Voices

A Note on Relapse

Shadows

Snowflakes

Hurt

Sorrow

When will it stop?

Mislead

Fear

Numbers

To my family: Ann, Garry, Emma

and Sam Ronson, Rosie Pearson, Pauline Dowey

and my boyfriend, John McArthur.

I have tried so hard to do right.

—President Grover Cleveland.

Acknowledgments

Using small print that does not reflect the size of my debt, I would like to acknowledge a few things:

First, I am amazingly fortunate for the family that I have, as I would not have gotten through my own struggles without my family’s support behind me. I would like to give a special thank you to my mother and my Nanna Rose as they helped me in ways they don’t even recognize. Maybe their illness was a blessing for a greater need and hopefully my illness will be a blessing for a greater need of the readers.

Second, I deem it essential to thank my wonderful boyfriend, John McArthur as when we first met he had no idea that his mere presence was helping me to get better because I was just so in love with him, I couldn’t stand to be away from him. Also, he has never once given up on me or stopped helping me and I am eternally grateful towards him for that.

Third, I would like to thank my newfound group of friends, Chloe Davies, Adam Wass, Samara Kendal, and last but certainly not least, William Benson. I met these people a little over a year ago and within no time I considered them to be the best group of friends I have ever had. They are not aware of this, but everyday their friendship encourages me to keep getting better, stick to my recovery and never go back to the places I have been. I hope to be the best of friends forever, because guys, I sure do love you.

Fourth, I am grateful towards the many great teachers that taught me at Dowdales School. I am especially grateful towards Wayne Sargent and Robin Waddington, the two men who made my time at school not only barely but also fun. Wayne Sargent acted as a father figure to me from year seven until year eleven, and I cannot thank him enough for that. He was a bit of a tough arse when he needed to be and he called me out on a lot of things, but I am grateful he did that because not only did I learn to be a better person because of that, but I also learnt to respect him instead of being told I had to. All I can say for Wayne is that his two daughters should be very grateful to have him as a father.

As for Robin Waddington, I cannot imagine my last two years at school without him and I definitely would not have gotten any grades never mind eight grades at GCSE. My family and I could not have asked for him to be any more understanding and helpful than he was, and we only wish we could do more for him than mention him in a book. Not only is he a fantastic teacher but also he cares about his students.

Fifth, I would like to thank a list of people: Clare Pryer, Lee Chorely, Sarah Docker, Erin Hitchen, Sue De Gruther, Annette Challinor, Sarah White, Ms Aubery, Mrs Bettinson and Mrs Richardson, Mrs Armistead and the doctor who decided to hospitalise me as now I have realised, I would have died if he didn’t make me go to the hospital.

Lastly, I am going to thank the young girl of nine years old, whom was in the hospital bed across from my own as she made me realise I really was sick and needed to get better or else I would die. I do not know this girls name as she wasn’t on my ward for very long, I woke up during the night to horrendous screaming and four nurses were wheeling her down the ward in her bed. I never saw her again.

Part One

Depression is when you don’t really care about anything. Anxiety is when you care too much about everything.

Having both is staying in bed because you don’t want to go to school and then panicking because you don’t want to fail. Having both is wanting to go see your friends so you don’t lose them all, then staying in home because you don’t want to make the effort. Having both is insanely hard and sucks to deal with.

March 1⁵th

They said I shouldn’t do this to myself, they said I shouldn’t speak to you. I don’t understand. You’re still here, why do people think you’re not? You are. You’re the only one who doesn’t judge me, people say they don’t but I know they do. You’re the only one who understands. I guess that’s because you can see it. You know everything. I know you’re not here in person but I know you’ll never leave in soul.

When we first got told you’d died, mum tried to keep it from me. It was at teatime, she got the phone call from my dad and no one else knew but I did. I think she didn’t tell us so that I’d eat my tea. She worries about my eating. I didn’t eat anything that night. I couldn’t. Even though I was expecting you to die, the reality of it happening shocked me as if you’d been murdered. In my head you had been murdered, I do blame the doctors. If they didn’t give you that last dose of pills, maybe you’d have lasted longer.

Were you sad? Were you scared? Did you whisper a prayer to be free? Was it light? Or too dark to see? Did you reach for me? Did you have a last wish? Did you have regrets?

I woke up crying every night for a month having the same dream. I’d be at hospital with Dad, and we’d be talking to you and I’d have hold of your hand then suddenly your machine would flat line. The doctors would come running in push us away from your bed, away from you; they’d push us out of the door and close it on us. They’d try to save you but they couldn’t. Then they’d give up and leave the room. We weren’t allowed to come back.

We were broken.

March 1⁶th

I have a new nightmare now; I’ve had it a lot recently. You’re in your coffin, 6 feet underground and all the worms and creatures are eating away at you. Empty eye sockets filled to the brim with withering maggots. Worms wriggling down your empty nostrils and ear canals.

It’s really quite disturbing. I think if I told anyone they’d think I was sick because people shouldn’t think of their loved ones in that way. I can’t help it though. Am I sick?

Please forgive me Uncle, I don’t mean to think about you in this way.

March 2⁵th

Dad has been trying to get me to go to your house, to see Aunty Julia and James because they need their family right now. I know they do but I can’t imagine going and sitting in your house and you not being there.

Ever since I was little you’d be sat at the kitchen table having a cigarette and drinking a cup of tea. Always. Your tanned skin and bellowing laugh, loving eyes and white hair, in your suit. I think I saw you out of your suit once. When you were ill. Standards you always said. You were a proud man.

To walk into your house and not hear your voice coming from the kitchen would kill me. To sit in your kitchen and not see you on the other side of the table would tear me apart. What I hated most is that no matter how much it hurt me, I couldn’t avoid it forever, I knew that I had to go because my aunty needed me, my cousin needed me and that’s what families do.

Dad and I got in the car and drove to your house. Hugs and kisses were exchanged; tears were shed. Everyone was in shock and completely torn apart. I’m not sure if aunty Julia wanted company or not but we were there and she tried to act strong and pretend she was ok. God bless her for trying.

James however, wasn’t as good at pretending. I think your death affected him more than it did anyone else, at least in the short term. He had rashes, his hair fell out, he got mood swings and he lost his appetite.

People sometimes say that if you adopt, it’s not the same as having your own biological children, that it’s a different kind of love; but I saw the love in Jack’s eyes for you and aunty Julia, and I saw the love in your eyes for him. For him and Stella.

You meant the world to Stella and her children. I’m scared to see them because I know how broken up they’ll be. I’ve spoken to Abbey and Dad has spoken to Stella. Even though they live three hours away, they support us and we support them. It’s a real shame that it took something this sad to bring us closer together.

March 2⁷th

I leave to go on holiday soon and I feel bad leaving the family behind. Do you think its ok for me to leave? Should I stay? Do they need me? Am I being selfish? I feel like I should stay. I think they still need me but they have each other. Mum and Dad are staying here instead of coming on holiday. I think they’re coming out a week or two later though. I’m not sure.

April 2⁷th

I’m home. I missed you. I missed everyone really. I couldn’t stop worrying. Now I’ve been away from everyone and everything I really feel better, I hope everyone else does too. I feel like I’ve missed being able to support my family though: being able to grieve with them. Maybe they feel a little better too, after all time does heal wounds . . . right? Maybe. Hopefully. I wish I could have taken everyone on holiday with me. Dad says that our home in America isn’t just a home and America isn’t just a country or a holiday, it’s a healing place for us and it makes everything better and I agree. I think everyone does.

I had a good time on holiday but I felt so guilty. As if I shouldn’t be happy, I had so much guilt for feeling happy and laughing when I knew that you were dead and my family all had broken hearts. I felt so guilty but then I couldn’t help it because I was distracted from everything that was happening at home. Not like I forgot, just that for a split second I had something else on my mind, something fun and happy… but then I remembered and I’d feel this stab of guilt and I’d be disgusted with myself. I’m sorry.

April 3⁰th

I’ve been to see everyone and they all seem a little happier. Or at least they’re getting better at pretending. The most disturbing thing is that I don’t know if they’re pretending for everyone else’s sake or their own sake, as if they’re trying to convince themselves that they are ok. I don’t know, maybe they really are feeling better but who knows? No one will ever know.

Well I guess you will, you can see and hear everything. I bet that’s so interesting. Aunty Julia would love it I bet; she loves sitting and watching people. I remember her telling me, she told me she just sat in a café all morning in Birmingham city and watched people just getting on with their days. She seemed to really love it and it sounded interesting.

May ²nd

On holiday I got really ill. I’m not sure why. Everyone was really worried about me and I was worried too. I didn’t understand it. Every time I ate something I’d throw it back up 20 minutes later. But it wasn’t just throwing up it was like violently for hours. It was never ending. Everything I ate. Everyone got worried and so did I. Mum got angry with me for it because I didn’t want to go out for meals and things and when we were out I’d throw up and need to go home. She got angry and I’m pretty sure everyone else did too. I ruined everyone’s holiday.

I’m still ill now and I’m scared that this isn’t just a bug I’ve caught. I think it’s more serious than that. I’m really scared uncle Wayne. I need you to tell me it’s going to be ok. Please.

May ⁵th

Isabella and I skipped school today. We’re both so sick of everything. Nothings going right and everything is going wrong. Why is this happening?

We got to school, met up then turned to leave. We walked away and into alleys to avoid getting seen by any late teachers. We called the school from our mobiles pretending to be each other’s mum; it was a really stupid idea because 1) they have our parents mobile numbers 2) we don’t have adult voices 3) we rang up straight after each other with the same excuse 4) the wind was blowing and cars were passing loudly. It was truly awful. I can’t believe we thought it’d work. How stupid of us.

We got changed in a back alley just out of town so we could walk through town to the bus stop and not get looked at. It seemed like a good idea. Once we were changed we walked up to my house because we realised no one would be home so we got changed fully there and emptied our school bags so we didn’t have to carry around heavy bags all day long for no reason. Bad idea. Mum came home. We heard the key in the lock and froze. We didn’t know what to do, if she caught us we would get in so much trouble. So we decided to throw our books into next doors garden and climb out of my bedroom window, down the pipe and onto the bush so we could jump into next doors garden and run out the back gate. It was perfect but when we climbed out the window we realised how high it was which was scary but we really had no choice. Mum had opened the door and was collecting the post and I grabbed Isabella’s hand and jumped. We landed on the bush and it felt like we were in a movie. We climbed down before mum saw us out of the back windows, grabbed our books and ran out the back of his garden. I don’t know if he was in or not, I hope he wasn’t.

We took our books to the bottom of my back alley and hid them under some plants and weeds in the deepest, darkest corner to avoid anyone ever finding them except us. Then, we left. We ran from the alley and to the bus stop.

We’d made the great escape. There was no going back now.

We jumped on the first bus that came; we didn’t really care where we ended up. We didn’t care about anything. We just wanted to leave and never come back. That’s the thing with friendship, as long as you have each other nothing else actually matters because a friend is everything. If you don’t have friends you have nothing. I’m really lucky to have Isabella. The bus was double decked so we sat on the top floor at the back and laughed and sang and joked. It was so perfect. No one will ever understand that feeling. The feeling of sitting on the back of a bus with your best friend going anywhere and not caring, when everyone thinks you’re safe in class. It was amazing.

The bus came to the very last stop so we had to get off; we were about an hour out of town. We walked into the town centre and found a food shop. We got a drink and stayed in there speaking about everything for ages. We talked about how much we hated everything, school, people, exams, work, friends: life. We talked about how much we loved each other and how we wouldn’t be able to live without each other. We talked about all the crazy things we’re going to do and how we’re going to be best friends forever, how we’d always have each other no matter what. We talked about our pasts, the darkness and demons in them that we hid from everyone else but not from each other because with a best friend you don’t have to hide anything.

We went into the shopping centre and we stole, like we always do, we stole necklaces, bracelets, t-shirts, tights, earrings, make up etc. anything we wanted was ours. I stole bandages and plasters too when Isabella wasn’t looking, I need them for when I cut myself too much. I’d hate for Isabella to know how bad it really is, she knows I do it but she’s never seen, she doesn’t know how bad.

I decided I wanted to get my hip pierced; I’m not sure why today or where it came from but I did. So we walked to the tattoo studio and he pierced my hip for me. I think the tattoo studio is my favourite place in the world. The black and white tiled floor like a diner from the 60’s, the red leather sofas, the walls covered in tattoo designs and magazines and the smell of anti-septic so strong you could get high. It was magical. It was like a dream to me. It was a school day so if we weren’t old enough to get a piercing we’d be at school, right? So he didn’t ID us, he’d pierced me before anyway so he thought I was legal.

When I’d got my hip done we went for a walk and ended up at a big beautiful park, we laid on the grass staring up into the sky, it was blue and beautiful. We played Spot The Cloud, which is where you stare at the clouds until you see a shape. It’s really relaxing. As we laid there staring into space we smoked some weed and I don’t think there is a better feeling in the world than laying in the grass on a hot day with your best friend smoking pot feeling like there isn’t anything in the entire world that matters.

At the park there is a really big lake with paddleboats and swans so we decided we’d go on the boats. We crashed into the water fountain in the middle and I swear I’ve never laughed so much in my life. We were both hysterical and soaked right through but we honestly didn’t care. We took the boat back in and laid on the grass overlooking the lake, it was so beautiful uncle Wayne, I wish you could have seen it. Then again, you did see it and I bet your view from heaven was a thousand times better than the one from down here.

When we were lying in the grass, I got a phone call. I had a bad feeling about it as soon as I heard my ring tone; my feeling was accurate—it was mum calling. I didn’t know what to do because I didn’t want to answer it; I was so scared. I asked Isabella what I should do and she told me I had to answer it. So I did. Mum started screaming at me and I almost started crying it was so loud and horrid, Isabella could hear her screaming at me down the phone uncle Wayne, she was so loud. She told me we had to get a bus home immediately. So we did.

We got back into our uniforms on the bus, we basically sat in silence because we were both just panicking and worried about what was going to happen. We made up a story of why we skipped school and what we did instead.

When we were getting changed, I saw Isabella’s rib cage. It had cuts all over it. I didn’t mention it because it simply wasn’t the time or place but I saw. It made me feel closer to her, we both cut ourselves. We know how that feels, we understand and that’s all you can ever really ask of anyone.

When we got to school my mum, her mum and the deputy head were waiting on the drive for us. We felt like dying. Walking up to them felt as though I was walking the plank although I think walking the plank is less fatal.

The deputy head called us in one at a time, we were sat next to each other in the waiting room and before Isabella left to go into the office she squeezed my pinky with hers and looked my in the eyes which was her way of telling me she’d keep to the story we made up. We never break promises.

We got excluded. I’m so sorry uncle Wayne, I know you must be so disappointed but you don’t understand how hard everything is right now, I’m so sorry, please forgive me. I feel like a failure. I need to cut myself. I need to punish myself. I never meant to disappoint anyone. I’m so sorry.

May 1²th

I had to go to school today and I had to vomit in one of my classes, I tried to leave but my teacher wouldn’t let me. I can’t even explain how it made me feel. I felt trapped. I needed to leave and she wouldn’t let me. Stupid bitch. I hate her so much. She wouldn’t let me leave because Isabella and I skipped school the other day so we were on attendance reports and she didn’t trust me to be out of the classroom alone.

I couldn’t stay there though, I just couldn’t. I was going to throw up and I wasn’t going to do it in front of everyone or at school. So I ran for it. I ran as fast as my tiny legs would take me. I sprinted all the way home; I’m not sure how long the teachers chased me for but I out ran them eventually.

I never want to feel like that again. I was trapped and I needed to leave but I couldn’t. I will never let anyone put me in that position again, I just can’t go through that feeling of panic and needing to escape ever again, never. It’s too hard and upsetting.

May 1³th

Mum tried to get me to go to school today, but I screamed and I cried and I refused to go. What if I needed to leave and they wouldn’t let me? What if I had to go in front of everyone? They’d all know my dirty secret; my stupid illness. They’d judge me and they’d tell people. No. That wasn’t going to happen because I wasn’t going to school. Simple. I couldn’t go school.

She said I was being stupid but I cried more, I was in hysterics, I could barely speak I was crying so hard trying to explain how I felt being in school and how yesterday made me feel when my stupid teacher wouldn’t let me leave, she realised I wasn’t faking it and how much I was hurting; how scared I was. She wiped my tears away and held me until she