Dysfunctional ~ F.Hargreeves

Bonus: The Bill Letters

November 22, 1967
Dear soon-to-be daughter,
A friend of mine years ago asked me to write letters to her, and I figured I'd get my start with writing one to you. I still need to figure out who she is, but that's besides the point. This letter is for you: my sweet baby girl. The doctors say you're due in a couple days and I've been so excited. I've spent the past few months, along with your mother of course, planning your nursery and getting everything ready for you. I can't believe I'm going to be a dad... It feels surreal. I hope I don't fail you. I've let down too many people in my life and I want to start being good. I'll be good to you, I promise. Your mom and I still haven't picked out a name for you, but I think I might name you after my friend.
See you in a few days, Jenna.
Love,
Dad

March 30, 1968
Dear Baby Jenna,
These past few months with you have been the best of my life. You're everything I've ever wanted in a daughter. My job is finally steady, along with your mom's, and it feels like we have a real family. When I finally start writing those letters to my friend, I'm going to tell her that I named my daughter after her. She'll be so excited. She was a mom at one point, but lost her son. When I met her she was pregnant. I hope everything went well for her and her kid. Anyways, kiddo, in these first few months, you've just made me so happy. I can't wait to give you a little brother or sister some day.
Hugs and kisses,
Dad

April 10, 1971
Dear Jenna,
I haven't written to you in some time, but now, as I'm writing this, you're a very rambunctious toddler. Your mother and I are having a hard time handling you. Plus, we were told by some doctors that you need special medical treatment. I just lost my job and don't have a clue how we're going to afford it on top of having your brother on the way in a month or so. You'll read this when you're older, so I don't mind sharing that I started drinking again. It's been rough. I'm trying to find another well-paying job, but there aren't many here in Hawkins. At least your mom has a stable income along with support from her parents. We'll get through this, I know we will, because I love you and our little family and will do anything to keep us afloat. I just hope the doctors can help you get better. That's all that matters right now.
Lots of love,
Dad

January 1, 1972
Dear Jenna,
I don't really know how to write this letter. I guess I'll start off by saying that your treatments have been free, courtesy of Hawkins Lab. Your brother, though, his have been pricey. I keep bouncing from job to job and nothing seems to stick. I feel like I'm going to let you down. I don't want to, but I don't think I'm enough anymore; for you, your mother, or Dustin. The drinking's gotten worse again and... I don't know what I'm going to do. Your mom and I keep fighting. I don't want to lose you guys, but I'm afraid that I might have to go. If that's the case, I hope you remember me as a loving dad who played with you, held you when you cried, and always helped pick you back up. I love you so much, you and your brother are my whole world, Jenna. I don't know what I'd don't without you two.
All of my love,
Dad

August 9, 1974
Dear Jenna,
It's been two years since your mom and I got a divorce. I tried to win partial custody of you in court, but I lost. You mom won't let me see you or your brother at all. I hope everything's going well for you at least. Losing you and your brother has been the toughest thing I've ever had to go through. I just want to see your little, smiling faces one more time. Hug you. Kiss the top of your head. Tuck you into bed and read you a story. I miss you more than words can describe. I think I finally landed a good job again, but it's an hour away from Hawkins. I'll try to visit if your mom allows it.
See you soon,
Dad

November 26, 1983
Dear Jenna,
I just wanted to say Happy Birthday. I know it's a waste of time to send a card, so I'll just write it down here. I miss you so much. I can't believe you're already sixteen. From what I can tell, you have a pretty sweet car already. I don't really have much else to say other than I'm proud of the woman that you're becoming, and, again, Happy Birthday, Sweetheart.
Love,
Dad

July 12, 1985
Dear Jenna,
I think I've finally figured out why you didn't want to tell me how we were related. It was because I'm your dad. You're my daughter. You had to grow up in a household without me. You thought I left you when you were little. You thought I didn't love you because I never tried to reach out. You didn't get the whole truth, though. Your mother kicked me out of the house because of my drinking a little while after Dustin was born. I would get a bit aggressive, never lay a hand on you type of aggressive, but enough that your mother didn't want me around. Because I didn't have a stable job and I had a drinking problem, I didn't get any custody over you or Dustin. I tried to visit every weekend, but your mom would always slam the door in my face. I tried to send birthday cards, but they'd always get returned back to me or put in the trash. I did everything I could to stay in your life, but was always blocked out. I also eventually realized that Hawkins Lab is where you got your powers and it wasn't treatment for any illness. I'm sorry I didn't protect you better. That's what a dad's supposed to do and I failed. I failed you. The only time I've gotten to see you is from afar at your band concerts. Wow, you're one hell of a sax player, kid. That's where I finally connected the dots that you were the same Jenna I met in Dallas. Seeing you up on stage, your confidence, your shine, I just knew you both had the same spark.

Anyways, I'm writing this because your mom finally gave me a call saying that you died in a mall fire. I needed to put everything down here so I wouldn't forget anything I felt I needed to say. I know you're not really dead since you told me in Dallas that you 'died' a few times even though you really didn't. It still stings hearing that your daughter isn't alive whether or not it's true. I'm headed to your 'funeral' now. I think I'm going to give these to your friend with the big hair to share with you someday. I don't think I'll give them to him today, but one day I will. I love you, Jen.
Love,
Dad

June 25, 1992
Dear Jenna,
This feels like such a random time to write to you, but I don't quite feel like myself without doing this. Writing to you makes me feel whole again whether or not you'll ever actually read these. They make me feel like I'm still in your life and you in mine. I had a doctor's appointment recently where they said I'm getting some liver problems. I quit drinking after I wrote my last letter. I wanted to change my life around so I could live long enough to see you in person again. Face to face. Have an actual conversation. I've seen you in the newspaper and I'm really proud of you. You've clearly not been kidnapped by Five again or else you wouldn't be 'alive' and would instead be in the apocalypse with him. Your other self must've done one hell of a job saving the world and fixing it. If you're anything like the version I met, then hopefully you'll remember me from Dallas since she remembered everything, even things that were supposed to be wiped from the universe. Keep up the good work, kiddo. Talk to you soon.
Congrats,
Dad

August 3, 2000
Dear Jenna,
This will be my final letter to you I think. I'm so sorry that you've had to go through so much without me. I know I've screwed up as a dad, but I really do want to sit down and talk with you again if you'd allow it. Maybe we can try to arrange something. I heard that you and that Steve fellow got married and have kids now. If you're willing, I'd love to meet him and my grandkids. He seems like a good guy and I'm glad you two found each other. Anyone's lucky to have you in their life. I might even try to reconnect with Dustin. I want to see my family before anything happens to me. I'm getting old, you know? I love you, Jen. So, so much.
All of my love,
Dad

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