Buggy's Note to Anders
Anders,
I’ve spent a lot of your childhood at work. I know that’s been hard on you. Finn and Lauren don’t remember the way things used to be. They were too young. But you do. And it’s been especially unfair to you.
Do you remember when you were little and we used to go to one of the parks over in West Town? We’d leave your mom with the baby, go by the bakery to pick up sweets and go play in the park all day. I’d watch you play on those playgrounds. Then we’d sit on benches and eat our sweet rolls, just watching all of the people. I loved those weekends. Then we stopped going, and you were so sad when I wouldn’t take you back. That’s when I started working more. I never had the heart to tell you why, tell you about the kids that were killed there, about the body that was in that sandbox you loved so much. I didn’t want to take you because it wasn’t safe anymore.
I eventually caught the lady who did that. But I never truly felt like I could get away from work. By the time I’d caught one, I was already started chasing the next two. I was worried if I stopped, something bad would happen and it would be because I wasn’t trying hard enough to stop them. I was worried your mom’s heart would break because I wasn’t able to keep you safe… And I’m sitting here in your room with the realization that I failed. You’re not here right now. I’m sitting in this empty house because I couldn’t keep you and Finn and Lauren safe.
I failed.
I left this city once. I returned to demons and devils overrunning it. Everyone seemed terrified, and it was because I stepped away from my responsibility to keep you safe. I should have been here with you. And soon, I’ll leave again. To charge into another danger. And this time, the only way I could even try keep you safe was to send you away. I can only hope that it worked.
I guess if you’re reading this, it means I finally succeeded. You could come home. I was finally able to make the Capitol safe. I don’t know if I’ll even be around, if I ever make it back to share in the feeling of being home. A part of me expects not to. But I wanted you to know why I can’t be there, why I haven’t been there. Maybe you’ll understand. Maybe you won’t. But I don’t want you to ever think I was gone because I didn’t love you. And this may be the only chance I will ever have to tell you.
What I’m really trying to say is sorry. Sorry you wanted for me, and I wasn’t there. I hope one day when you tell your kids about me, you tell the story of our weekends in West Town’s parks, not of what came after.
Everything I’ve ever done is because I love you. Dad
I’ve spent a lot of your childhood at work. I know that’s been hard on you. Finn and Lauren don’t remember the way things used to be. They were too young. But you do. And it’s been especially unfair to you.
Do you remember when you were little and we used to go to one of the parks over in West Town? We’d leave your mom with the baby, go by the bakery to pick up sweets and go play in the park all day. I’d watch you play on those playgrounds. Then we’d sit on benches and eat our sweet rolls, just watching all of the people. I loved those weekends. Then we stopped going, and you were so sad when I wouldn’t take you back. That’s when I started working more. I never had the heart to tell you why, tell you about the kids that were killed there, about the body that was in that sandbox you loved so much. I didn’t want to take you because it wasn’t safe anymore.
I eventually caught the lady who did that. But I never truly felt like I could get away from work. By the time I’d caught one, I was already started chasing the next two. I was worried if I stopped, something bad would happen and it would be because I wasn’t trying hard enough to stop them. I was worried your mom’s heart would break because I wasn’t able to keep you safe… And I’m sitting here in your room with the realization that I failed. You’re not here right now. I’m sitting in this empty house because I couldn’t keep you and Finn and Lauren safe.
I failed.
I left this city once. I returned to demons and devils overrunning it. Everyone seemed terrified, and it was because I stepped away from my responsibility to keep you safe. I should have been here with you. And soon, I’ll leave again. To charge into another danger. And this time, the only way I could even try keep you safe was to send you away. I can only hope that it worked.
I guess if you’re reading this, it means I finally succeeded. You could come home. I was finally able to make the Capitol safe. I don’t know if I’ll even be around, if I ever make it back to share in the feeling of being home. A part of me expects not to. But I wanted you to know why I can’t be there, why I haven’t been there. Maybe you’ll understand. Maybe you won’t. But I don’t want you to ever think I was gone because I didn’t love you. And this may be the only chance I will ever have to tell you.
What I’m really trying to say is sorry. Sorry you wanted for me, and I wasn’t there. I hope one day when you tell your kids about me, you tell the story of our weekends in West Town’s parks, not of what came after.
Everything I’ve ever done is because I love you. Dad
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