Author's Note: Once again, I've posted an update schedule for this story on my profile, so feel free to check that if you want to know when the next chapter will be posted (This chapter is right on time ). Please fav, follow, and review!

Disclaimer: I don't own The Perks of Being a Wallflower. Everything in bold and italics comes directly from The Perks of Being a Wallflower book, and was thus written by Stephen Chbosky.

December 26, 1991

Dear friend,

I am sitting in my bedroom now after the two-hour ride back to my house. My sister and brother were nice to each other, so I didn't have to drive.

"That's good at least," said Patrick.

Usually, on the way home, we drive to visit my Aunt Helen's grave.

Sam paused momentarily. Knowing what they now knew about Aunt Helen, it made all three of them feel sick whenever she was mentioned in the letters, especially since at the time of writing them, Charlie hadn't yet realized what she had done to him.

It's kind of a tradition. My brother and my dad never want to go that much, but they know not to say anything because of Mom and me. My sister is kind of neutral, but she is sensitive about certain things.

Every time we go to see my Aunt Helen's grave, my mom and I like to talk about something really great about her. Most years it is about how she let me stay up and watch Saturday Night Live.

Sam stopped again. Charlie had also told them that his Aunt Helen would hurt him every week when she would let him stay up and watch Saturday Night Live.

Patrick and Mary Elizabeth waited for Sam to continue, but she didn't. After a few minutes she sighed and told them she just couldn't continue the letter. Patrick volunteered to take over reading for her.

And my mom smiles because she knows if she was a kid, she would have wanted to stay up and watch, too.

We both put down flowers and sometimes a card. We just want her to know that we miss her, and we think of her, and she was special. She didn't get that enough when she was alive, my mom always says. And like my dad, I think my mom feels guilty about it. So guilty that instead of giving her money, she gave her a home to stay in.

I want you to know why my mom is guilty. I should probably tell you why, but I really don't know if I should. I have to talk about it with someone. No one in my family will ever talk about it. It's just something they don't. I'm talking about the bad thing that happened to Aunt Helen they wouldn't tell me about when I was little.

Now Patrick hesitated to continue. He looked at the girls and could tell they were wondering the same thing. Did the same thing that Aunt Helen did to Charlie happen to her when she was little?

Every time it comes to Christmas it's all I can think about ... deep down. It is the one thing that makes me deep down sad.

I will not say who. I will not say when. I will just say that my aunt Helen was molested.

"I read somewhere that – statistically speaking – a large percentage of child molesters were once victims of child molestation themselves," Mary Elizabeth informed them.

"That's a horrible thing to say!" Sam snapped at her.

Mary Elizabeth held her hands up in surrender. "Hey, calm down. What I said was true," she told Sam. After a moment she continued, "I'm not saying that Charlie is one day going to… Look, there's no emotional analysis involved in statistics. We know Charlie. We know that he's a good person. We know that he's dealing with his issues."

Sam nodded, tears glistening in her eyes. "I know he is," she responded. "I know Charlie would never…. It's not Charlie I'm upset about!"

"Then what's wrong?" Patrick questioned her as gently as possible.

"Ever Charlie told me what she did, I've hated his Aunt Helen. But now, knowing the same thing happened to her, I still hate her, but I also feel bad." She swallowed. "I'm just confused.

Patrick nodded, and when it seemed no one was going to say anything else, he continued reading.

I hate that word. It was done by someone who was very close to her. It was not her dad. She finally told her dad. He didn't believe her because of who it was. A friend of the family. That just made it worse. My grandma never said anything either. And the man kept coming over for visits.

My aunt Helen drank a lot. My aunt Helen took drugs a lot. My aunt Helen had many problems with men and boys. She was a very unhappy person most of her life. She went to hospitals all the time. All kinds of hospitals. Finally, she went to a hospital that helped her figure things out enough to try and make things normal, so she moved in with my family. She started taking classes to get a good job. She told her last bad man to leave her alone. She started losing weight without going on a diet. She took care of us, so my parents could go out and drink and play board games. She let us stay up late. She was the only person other than my mom and dad and brother and sister to buy me two presents. One for my birthday. One for Christmas. Even when she moved in with the family and had no money. She always bought me two presents. They were always the best presents.

"I hate this," said Sam as she put her head in her hands. "I hate this letter so much."

"You look really pale right now. Do you want Patrick to skip to the next letter?" Mary Elizabeth was watching her with a concerned expression.

"No, no, I need to hear this. Just keep going Patrick," she responded.

On December 24, 1983, a policeman came to the door. My aunt Helen was in a terrible car accident. It was very snowy. The policeman told my mom that my aunt Helen had passed away. He was a very nice man because when my mom started crying, he said that it was a very bad accident, and my Aunt Helen was definitely killed instantly. In other words, there was no pain. There was no pain anymore.

The policeman asked my mom to come down and identify the body. My dad was still at work. That was when I walked up with my brother and sister. It was my seventh birthday. We all wore party hats. My mom made my sister and brother wear them. My sister saw Mom crying and asked what was wrong. My mom couldn't say anything. The policeman got on one knee and told us what happened. My brother and sister cried. But I didn't. I knew that the policeman made a mistake.

My mom asked my brother and sister to take care of me and left with the policeman. I think we watched TV. I don't think I really remember. My dad came home before my mom.

"Why the long faces?"

We told him. He did not cry. He asked if we were okay. My brother and sister said no. I said yes. The policeman just made a mistake. It is very snowy. He probably couldn't see. My mom came home. She was crying. She looked at my dad and nodded. My dad held her. That's when I figured out that the policeman didn't make a mistake.

I don't really know what happened next, and I never really asked. I just remember going to the hospital. I remember sitting in a room with bright lights.

None of them had a thing to say. Charlie didn't deserve to be involved in such a horrific situation. No child deserves to wake up in a mental institution.

I remember a doctor asking me questions. I remember telling him how Aunt Helen was the only one who hugged me. I remWeember seeing my family on Christmas day in a waiting room. I remember not being allowed to go to the funeral. I remember never saying good-bye to my Aunt Helen.

I don't know how long I kept going to the doctor. I don't remember how long they kept me out of school. It was a long time. I know that much. All I remember is the day I started getting better because I remembered the last thing my Aunt Helen said just before she left to drive in the snow.

She wrapped herself in a coat. I handed her the car keys because I was always the one who could find them. I asked Aunt Helen where she was going. She told me that it was a secret. I kept bugging my aunt Helen, which she loved. She loved the way I would keep asking her questions. She finally shook her head, smiled, and whispered in my ear.

"I'm going to buy your birthday present."

"Well she certainly gave him a birthday present," Patrick said.

"Patrick!" Sam scolded him as Mary Elizabeth reached over and smacked his arm.

"Hey, it's true," he told them. "If she had survived she would have kept abusing Charlie, and I honestly think that it was better off that she was dead when Charlie realized what she did to him. I even wonder…."

"Wonder what?" Asked Mary Elizabeth when he trailed off.

"I wonder if that car accident wasn't really an accident. I wonder if – maybe even just on a subconscious level – she got into that accident on purpose. Maybe deep down she knew that was the only way she could stop the abuse and protect Charlie from herself."

The three teens thought about this before Patrick proceeded reading.

That's the last time I ever saw her. I like to think my aunt Helen would now have that good job she was studying for. I like to think she would have met a good man. I like to think she would have lost the weight she always wanted to lose without dieting.

Despite everything my mom and doctor and dad have said to me about blame, I can't stop thinking what I know. And I know that my aunt Helen would still be alive today if she just bought me one present like everybody else. She would be alive if I were born on a day that didn't snow. I would do anything to make this go away. I miss her terribly. I have to stop writing now because I am too sad.

Love always,

Charlie

Author's Note: I know this chapter was much shorter than the last. I was originally going to include another letter to make it longer but eventually decided against it. Since it covered such a heavy topic, I felt it needed to stand on its own.

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