.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

SWEET MELANCHOLY

LETTERS

0. the missing of bill denbrough

--------------------------------------------------------------

January 1st, 1991

Billy,

I think it's safe to assume that this letter will likely never reach you. Wherever and ever you are. I suppose, it's nice to just see your name on paper and act like you're still here and I'm not here in Derry without you. I'm probably not even going to send this out.

I hope to God that you'll visit sometime soon. Within the new year, at least. I wonder why you haven't called. Surely, you've got at least one of our numbers? Richie's, Stan's, Mike's? Me? At least one of us... Why haven't you called, Billy? I miss you, severely. I don't think I'll ever not miss you.

Happy early Birthday, by the way. You're turning sixteen in three days — the big sixteen! Isn't that crazy? Remember when we were in fourth grade and we weren't close yet? You brought cupcakes to school on your birthday and I remember you gave me a 'special' yellow frosted one, the only yellow one your mom made because you said I was 'like the sun'. You've always been my most precious boy. I'd give you a new bracelet if you were here. Bake you a cute little cake with buttercream frosting because I know it's your favourite too.

Nothing much has happened here. I'm still getting used to, walking? If that even makes any sense. The doctor said it's cause I was comatose in a bed for six months. I see what he means. It's kind of like I forgot how to use my body which is weird since it's such second nature.

Ben and Richie taught me how to ride a bike recently. It took hours because I suck at balancing but also because my muscle reaction is still slow. I'm terrible at it. You guys make it look so easy. I'm not sure how you all do it. I kept tipping over and stumbling and I'd move the handlebars too slow and my shoe kept getting caught on the pedal somehow! Maybe, I shouldn't wear a dress next time. I learned a bit, nonetheless. I'd much prefer riding with you, though. It was more comfortable and I always felt safe.

For a while, I forgot a lot of things after waking up. I forgot about IT for a while — a month and a half to be exact. It was awful nice since I didn't have to relive the memories. I remember now and I hate it. I wish I could erase them.

Sometimes, I wake up from being asleep because of nightmares of the cistern. Being alone in there, dark and damp, filled with bugs crawling into my throat. It's terrible. Really, truly terrible. On nights like those, I often find myself laying in bed staring at the ceiling and just sobbing, wishing you were here. Sometimes, I sneak out the window and go to Stan's. I think he understands how I feel the most. We're bonded through our... Physical trauma, I guess.

I remembered the Losers instantly, though. After my family saw me and everything was situated, my dad called them and they came running. No Bev, no you. It was nice to see them but I felt the emptiness they felt without you two. It was hard not to.

My dad gave me your letter before he called. He left me to read it alone in the hospital room which I'm thankful for. I'm not exactly proud of how hard I cried while reading it. I missed you terribly. I still do.

I felt like I couldn't breathe when I was reading it, I wanted you so badly. Just to hug you, hear your voice. It wasn't exactly fair, the last thing I remember of you is IT holding you. I was so scared for you, Billy. Then everything just turned black and I woke up months later without you here.

Everything's so lonely without you. You're my best friend ever, William Denbrough. My best friend forever, indeed.

Please, come visit. Come home someday — at least once. Or call, that'd be more than enough too. I just want to know if you're okay and happy.

I love you so badly, Billy.

Always Yours,
Sunshine. 
(Three taps & forever yours)

PS.
The amount of love I have for you hurts my heart severely.

—

April 12th, 1991

Billy,

Hi! I still miss you severely. Still no call but it's okay, you're busy, aren't you? It's my name month! Isn't that fun?

Anyway, I had a good dream today. It was of that time we all went to the quarry. It was warm and bright and it was awfully reassuring. Made me feel as if we'd all be together again one day. Happy and pieced together once again. Hopefully, it'd be reasons that are good.

I joined sewing club at school, right now I'm making a dress. It's light pink and the fabric has little details of tiny white and red flowers. I'm planning for it to reach my mid calf so it'll look a bit more... Romantic. If that makes sense. It'll be like all my other classic wrap dresses, just longer. Not exactly sure where I'd wear it but maybe I'll convince Stannie to have a fun photoshoot at the fields with his bird-watching camera.

I've also been teaching myself how to make actual chain bracelets and necklaces! I use the chains from the craft store and kind of just mess around with them until they look pretty. A few girls at school even complimented the necklace I made which is wild because I mean, they usually pay me no mind.

I wonder what you're up to often, wherever you are. I'm sure you're doing great things. Do you still write? I mean, you probably do — you're so talented, Billy. I miss when I'd come over to your house when the Losers weren't hanging out and you'd read me your stories while my heads in your lap.

Hopefully, you're doing okay. I really hope you are. It's around eleven o'clock at night so I should be heading to bed now — school responsibilities! I love you, Billy. Call soon.

Always Yours,
Sunshine.
(Three taps & forever yours)

—

April, 15th, 1991

Billy,

You're the best thing that ever happened to me. I love you, William Denbrough.

Always yours,
Sunshine.
(Three taps & forever yours)

—

May 9th, 1991

Billy,

Please come visit! I miss you so bad! I wanna hug and give you kisses on your cheeks! Come home to me soon.

I love you!

Always yours,
Sunshine.
(Three taps & forever yours)

—

July 6th, 1991

Billy,

There was a short amount of time while we were in the cistern where the Losers and you all believed I was dead.

I often wonder what would have happened if I was. Sometimes, I wish I had just lost my memory. Sometimes, I wish I was dead.

Things are getting harder without you.

Always Yours,
April.

—

July 14th, 1991

Billy,

I haven't been doing too well. My mind is plagued with memories of that summer. I would like to think that's there's more good than bad but as it turns out, it's the other way around.

I don't think it's realistic to be happy anymore.

Always Yours,
April.

—

September 19th, 1991

Dear Bill,

I was listening to 'Build Me Up Buttercup' by The Foundations and I've never cried so bad even though it's the catchiest song ever! The lyrics just make me think of you. I miss you bad, Bill.

You never call and I'm beginning to think I'm a fool for writing to a boy who'll never receive my letters because I don't even know your address to send them! I guess, I've just been hoping you'd magically know that I'm writing you.

Have you forgotten me? Did you find someone better wherever you are? If you have, I couldn't hold it against you because after all, Derry is so bleak and you're so bright and full of ideas. Of course, you'd find a better match somewhere else — I'd imagine she must be bright like you and just as full of ideas. Pretty too!

I'm not going to keep writing anymore. I don't think I should. This is... It's tethering me to you and I need to grow again. I need to stop missing you because if I continue to I don't think I'll ever learn how to stop.

I still hope you're doing well and I hope to God, you're happy as can be. I want you to be happy, Bill. Because, at least one of us would be happy and that'd be better than none. 

You're my best friend. You better know that enough.

I̶ ̶s̶t̶i̶l̶l̶ ̶l̶o̶v̶e̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶, W̶i̶l̶l̶i̶a̶m̶ ̶D̶e̶n̶b̶r̶o̶u̶g̶h̶.

Sincerely,
April René Ambrose.

—

August 30th, 1992

Bill,

I know I haven't wrote in awhile. But, I'm desperate. You're the one person I feel like I can talk to right now.

My dad was diagnosed with lung cancer. Please call. I don't know what else to do. I need you most right now.

- AA

—

September 14th, 1992

Dear Bill,

No call but am I surprised? Not really. I can't blame you though. You never even get these letters. It's almost been a year since I stopped writing. Part of me hates myself for writing again.

This is the last time. I need to focus on my dad. On myself. I need to stop coming back to you when things get hard.

All the best,
April René Ambrose.

—

May 17th, 1993

Dear Bill,

I'm already hating myself for writing this. But, my dad's cancer has gotten worse, we're moving to Seattle after this school year ends because it has better healthcare than here. Holly's there for medical school, anyway. It's better for my entire family.

Please call before I move. Just once. At least. What if you come back and I'm gone? What if we just keep missing each other? I always pass by your house whenever I ride my bike to school and God, I nearly cry every time.

I really need you right now, Bill. Everything feels like it's falling apart. I don't know if my dad's going to be okay. You remember him, don't you? He fixed your bike tire that one time. He likes you.

He should've listened to my mom when she'd tell him to not smoke. He started when he was fourteen. He's thirty-eight now. That's twenty-four years worth of smoke.

I've been getting on Richie about it — he hasn't smoked a cigarette since February. I hope Bev quit.

If he...I don't know what I'll do, I feel so shattered already. The world is so empty, Billy. Everything is so bleak and sad and it's like the sun never comes out anymore. Or, maybe, it does and I just don't seem to notice anymore. I don't know. I'm worried.

He can't go. Not when he hasn't walked me or Holly down the aisle. Or have a grandchild. Or go to Greece to visit our family, remember how my grandparents are from there? Not when him and my mom have only been married for nineteen years, that's not enough for them. They deserve an eternity of life and marriage and happiness. He can't go, not yet.

I don't think I've ever needed you more. Please, if there was anytime you felt you should reach out — it's now. I really, really, need you. Just your voice, not even a full word, Billy. A small stutter would be fine too. You know I've always loved it. Just please, call. My home phone isn't going to be the same after I move and you won't know where I am. I need you here. Please. I̶ ̶s̶t̶i̶l̶l̶ ̶l̶o̶v̶e̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶.

Sincerely,
April René Ambrose.

—

July 10th, 1993

Dear Bill,

I'm moving to Seattle today. The Losers are coming by my house around noon and I don't think I'll be able to hold in my tears when I see them.

I love them all dearly. Ben, Mike, Richie, Eddie, Stan. My boys. I lost you and Bev already. I don't think I'll know how to function without them. I wonder how you felt when you were moving, did you cry as much as I have?

I'm not sure, I wish I had a way to ask you. I really need to stop missing you. I don't think this is exactly healthy. I've been pining over you for three years, I'm a fool. A bit pathetic too.

Sincerely,
April René Ambrose.

—

July 14th, 1993

Dear Bill,

We're in Seattle now. It's huge. It's Derry's population tripled by a thousand, I'd bet. I miss the Losers. Just as much as I m̶i̶s̶s̶ once missed you. Wishing you all the best.

Sincerely,
April René Ambrose.

—

September 1st, 1994

Diary,

My dad got admitted to urgent care today. He can't breathe. He rated his pain as a ten.

Mom's a mess. Holly took some time off school. Happy senior year, April.

This isn't exactly fair.

- AA

—

September 12th, 1994

Dear Diary,

He's getting better. He looks better too. He's starting to eat and drink again. His breathing isn't perfect but he's doing better than before. He's stable. I hope he stays like this. It's almost like how he was before he was sick. He seems happy.

He keeps talking to me about Derry, the town where I grew up. He was born there too. I don't know why, he never liked it there. Maybe, he just misses familiarity.

He noticed that I look sickly, said that I should start sleeping more because my eyes are starting to look hollow and eat more too because my cheeks are beginning to burrow deeper into my face. He's worried about me when he nearly died a few days ago.

I spend most of my time with him, he keeps asking 'where my light went'. I'm not sure, Dad. I wish I did. I hope you're getting better.

Sincerely,
April René Ambrose.

—

September 13th, 1994

Diary,

My dad died today. I've just about felt my entire world shatter.

- AA

—

October 13th, 1994

Dear Diary,

I'm sorry I abandoned you. It's been a month since... Yeah.

I didn't get how he died. He was getting better and was stable. Everything was back to normal, kind of. But, Holly did. She learned about it in her class and knew right when he became stable what was happening. She just didn't have the heart to tell us. I guess that's why she was crying so much when mom and I thought he was getting better.

Medically, Holly says it's penned down at terminal lucidity. It's more widely known however as rallying or the surge. Essentially, a burst of energy lasting the days or moments leading up to someone's death. I think, that's the cruelest thing the world could offer.

My moms trying to cope but Holly and I know she's not well. We're all not doing well. I don't think I've ever felt so alone. I don't want to burden them with me.

Anyhow, I've fallen behind in school. I really need to catch up if I even want a chance to get into a university. I want to make dad proud. Not making him proud isn't even an option.

I've spent most of my days hidden in my room, making necklaces and bracelets out of spare chains and links. I feel like making them is the only thing I really have control over. That doesn't even make sense. I like making them, though.

I don't remember what it feels like to be happy anymore. Dad kept going on about 'April, you were once so happy,' and asking me 'whatever happened to Sunshine Ambrose?' before he passed. I'm not sure what he meant. Sunshine? I've never been called that. He's never called me that.

I'll try to be more consistent.

Sincerely,
April René Ambrose.

—

October 4th, 2010

Dear Diary,

I met a boy at the coffee shop, the one I go to every morning before I head to work. He asked for my number and I gave it. His name is Nolan Neufield — dark brown hair, light brown eyes. He seems nice and I think he can make me happy again. Maybe, just maybe, he will. But, then again, I'm never too sure about anything.

Sincerely,
April René Ambrose.

—

July 18th, 2013

Dear Diary,

He asked me to marry him. I said yes. He's familiar and he's constant and he really does love me. I think that's exactly what I need. Holly said I shouldn't settle and that if this was right I'd be happier. She says I'm the same. Dull. It's okay, though. He makes me happy enough.

Sincerely,
April René Ambrose.

—

August 26th, 2014

Dear Diary,

I married Nolan today. My dad wasn't there to walk me down the aisle. It was a joyous as it could be under the circumstances, I guess.

M̶y̶ ̶h̶e̶a̶r̶t̶ ̶a̶c̶h̶e̶s̶ ̶b̶e̶c̶a̶u̶s̶e̶ ̶I̶'̶m̶ ̶n̶o̶t̶ ̶s̶u̶r̶e̶ ̶i̶f̶ ̶I̶ ̶m̶a̶d̶e̶ ̶a̶ ̶m̶i̶s̶t̶a̶k̶e̶.

Sincerely,
April René Neufield.

—

December 17th, 2014

Dear Diary,

I don't think my heart is fully his. I feel terrible. T̶h̶e̶ ̶w̶o̶r̶s̶t̶ ̶p̶a̶r̶t̶ ̶i̶s̶ ̶t̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶r̶e̶'s̶ ̶n̶o̶ ̶o̶n̶e̶ ̶e̶l̶s̶e̶.

I don't think he deserves someone who doesn't know how to feel anymore. His heart is too full for that. He deserves more.

The seasons are turning colder. Maybe, that's what happened to me.

Sincerely,
April Reńe.

authors note:
starting out strong. definitely pulls on the heartstrings. gn xo