FROM ELLA PERFAE
TO LARA PERFAE
34 MAY'S CORNER
CASTLEFORD
LO6 1AR
Dear Lara,
I'm writing this the night before the trial. I just can't seem to calm down. Even while you ignore me, I always find myself sitting down at this small metal desk with my paper and pen, trying to speak to you. I'm using the moonlight to see, so I hope you'll be able to understand my handwriting.
I know I said I'd stop sending these letters until you replied, but I can't help it. I can't sleep, Lara. I feel suffocated. I had thought you'd be curious to know everything that's been kept from you… but maybe it's just not worth knowing, not when it means having to speak to me.
Do you really hate me that much, Lara?
Do you enjoy seeing me like this?
I felt like this before the last trial, too. This feeling is like a whispering in my ear, or a strange sound that erupts in the night, but it's hidden in the darkness, so all I can do is stay awake or keep looking over my shoulder. I just can't seem to shake that feeling away. And it's because of what they're doing to me, Lara; what you're doing to me.
The hardest moments of my life were presented in that courtroom last week. But there was no empathy for what I went through. Instead, the prosecution stood before the jury, waving their fingers and their forensic reports at me, and accused me of premeditating everything. They made it sound so sinister, and they made me sound so heartless.
But none of it is true and I need you to understand that, Lara. I explained it all during the trial last week but the prosecution kept trying to silence me, accusing me of lying because I couldn't remember every detail of those last few months.
How could I?
Denis and I were fighting. But we were still living together because I hadn't signed the divorce papers, and he found it easier to travel from home. So, we lived together as strangers.
Honestly, it was like living with a ghost; I barely saw him.
Denis would come home so late from work, after me and the children had already gone to bed, and he'd also be gone by the time I woke up to make the children breakfast. Sometimes I wasn't even sure if he'd even come home, and other times, there were signs of his existence all over the house: a dirty coffee mug in the sink, dirty laundry, or the messy couch where he had slept since serving me the divorce papers. That was our marriage, Lara, and eventually, it became our normal routine. Even Aiden and Cleo barely saw their father.
It was suffocating; it felt like I couldn't breathe in my own home. So, I came to you and brought the children with me. You didn't know why, but you didn't question it either. We were regular visitors at each other's homes, and you welcomed us like you always did. I needed to hear your laughter and the children's' chaos. I needed to remember what a normal family sounded like. For three days, we ate at your table, Aiden and Cleo played with their cousins and I spent precious time with my sister.
Amir was there, too, of course. He was the first person to realise something was wrong, you know.
It was late at night, I walked down to the kitchen to get myself some water and Amir was there, too. We talked for a moment, laughed about the funny t-shirt he was wearing to sleep, and then suddenly, he had this deep, serious look in his eyes.
It was like he was looking into me, into all my thoughts, even the ones I tried to keep hidden. I was flustered, and even more so when he asked me what was wrong. I tried to change the subject, and he was gentleman enough to not press me for answers. But he did point out that I was coming over more often, and while that was definitely not a problem (Amir made sure to emphasise that part, haha), it's a noticeable change. I asked him if you'd noticed anything, or if he'd mentioned any of this to you; he said he hadn't. I asked him not to. And he didn't.
Living with you and Amir felt like a dream sometimes. It felt like I had just stepped into another world, where everything felt right. In your house, with your family, I didn't have to feel like I was trying to survive; I didn't have to fight for my life. I felt like I belonged, that I had a place there, and it was difficult to bring myself to go home. To go back to the ghost who was waiting for me.
But then I fell ill. Remember? I was nauseous, I felt hot one minute, cold, the next, and I was so exhausted that I didn't even have the energy to get out of bed. So you offered to take the children to school with Cam and Azra, and to get anything I wanted from the house. I didn't need anything, but Aiden had left his permission slip in the kitchen, which I had constantly reminded him to take when we were getting ready to leave for your house two days before. Aiden needed to hand it in that morning, and you were kind enough to go out of your way to drive to the house and pick it up before dropping them off to school.
At the trial, I found out that you had washed a glass you'd found in the sink, and threw the rubbish out because of the smell. You said these things were the only indications that someone had been in the house. And then you left. You didn't go upstairs because you had no reason to. You had found Aiden's permission slip stuck to the fridge, right where she said it was.
How were you to know? How were the kids, who were waiting in the car for you, to know? How was I to know that Denis was actually upstairs, lying in the hallway, dead... and that I'd be the one to find his body the next day.
I had felt better in the morning, and I decided to go home. I didn't want to overstay my welcome, and I knew the longer I stayed, the more you'd start to notice why I was really there. I admitted to you in one of my earlier letters that, back then, I wasn't ready to talk to you about Dennis and I. I didn't want you to know because I wasn't used to letting others help me... not like you were.
I dropped all four kids off at school as a way to show my gratitude, and then I finally went home. The house was quiet, but then again, it always was.
I didn't go upstairs. Instead, I stepped out of the house with some of the homemade muffins you and the children had made for me, and went straight to Mrs. Li's next door. I gave her the muffins to thank her for the mint she gave me from her garden, and then she invited me in for tea and I said yes because I had no plans for the rest of the day. But I think why I really said yes was because I was looking for any excuse not to be in that house unless I had to be.
I sat in her kitchen for over an hour, drinking tea, talking about her garden and answering all her questions about Aiden and Cleo. And then I went back to the house. I sent Denis a text, the same text blow up by the prosecution for the jury to see. I've read it back so many times that I've now memorised it.
"We are back from Lara's house. When will you be home. We need to talk, Denis. Not argue. Please think about Aiden and Cleo for once. They barely see you. They miss you. I miss you. Even if we can't be together, we can still end this on good terms".
After that, I left the house again. I went shopping for groceries. I bought strawberries, honey, milk, bleach, napkins, and a whole baguette, and then had a lovely coffee and pastry at the Twenty Eighth Café near Crest Avenue. I sat there thinking about Denis, about our family. I wondered whether there was anything that could have saved our marriage. I was nervous yet eager for Denis to come home; I really wanted to talk to him, just like we used to.
After that, I returned home to drop everything off. That was when I went upstairs.
I found him in the hallway, Lara. My husband of 15 years, face down in his own bloodied vomit, still wearing the suit he'd worn to work. I couldn't process it at first, but then the sour smell of vomit and decay hit me, and the coffee and pastry from the cafe came right back up. I started to scream. I couldn't stop. It was the most real thing I had ever felt in my life.
You were the first person I called when my whole world collapsed around me. I called you because you're my sister, because I needed someone to pick up the children, to keep them away from that house. My first and only thought was to protect them for the heartbreak they'd inevitably feel.
Do you remember what I had said to you?
It's a bit of a blur to me. I was hysterical. It was something like, "Don't bring them here, keep them away, they can't see this, they can't see this!"
When you managed to calm me down, you askes me what happened, and that was when I told you, "Denis is dead."
The police found me on the stairs, still crying and shaking. They had to drag me away from Denis's body but they didn't understand. I had just lost my husband and my children had lost their father.
It was a tragedy. It was a suicide; Denis had taken the poison that he'd acquired himself because he had given up on me and on our children. He hadn't expected me to find the courage to leave him, Lara. He realised that it was too late to make amends after everything he did... and decided to end it. Even the first police reports suggested it. That was the truth, Lara.
Until you came to the police two years later, and decided it wasn't.
Two years you watched me try to rebuild my life. You watched me care for my children all by myself. What made you change your mind about me, Lara? What made you decide that I was capable of murder?
The prosecution paint this sinister image of me, and you sit by and let them do it.
I. Did. Not. Position. Denis.
I did not leave the house three day earlier to use you as an alibi. I did not plan for Aiden to leave his permission slip behind and for you to go and retrieve it in hopes you'd find the body. And I certainly didn't stage my discovery of his body; I vomited, for goodness sake!
Can you not see how ridiculous all this is?
It is absurd. The case they've built against me is absurd, but you already know this, Lara. You simply don't want to accept that you're wrong. Is it because it's too late now, after everything you've done to this family? Or because you need a scapegoat to make sense of all this tragedy? Why does it have to be me, Lara? What have I ever done to you?
You have the choice to stop this. You always have. Tomorrow, when they call you to the stand, you can tell them you were mistaken. You can tell them that you know your sister, and I am not someone who is capable of murder. You can revoke your statement. You can bring our family back together, and I'd like everyone to be there when you do. You, the children, and Dad. Our wonderful family. Let's witness the end of this nightmare together, and take the first step into building the normal, happy life our family deserves.
I know you're scared, Lara. But I'll be there with you, just like I've always been. You're allowed to make mistakes, but this one, I can't help you fix. You'll have to find the courage to do that yourself. Look at me, Lara, instead of all those cold men and women, and remember who I am. Remember how much I have done for you. Remember that I am your sister, who needs you to believe in her one more time.
Choose our family. Choose the truth. And let me come home.
Always your sister,
Ella