I sat there staring at the last few words on the page.
'You did.'
How did I kill you? How could I have done that? Why would I have killed someone I loved and still do to this day?
I know it's hard to believe. But, you did. I will come to tell you how soon enough.
I want to know now. I close the notebook and stare at my late wife's initials. I run my fingers over them, shaking my head. Tears begin to fill my eyes, questions rack my brain. I still wanted to believe this is some kind of sick prank, but what sick fuck would prank me like this? Someone who knew Scarlet and could mimic her handwriting. But, her handwriting is so sleek and clean, she always wrote in cursive and rarely in print.
I hold the notebook close to my chest and curl up on the sofa. My wife, my best friend, my soul; she is gone forever and all I have in her place is this notebook, a few of her clothes and shoes, and her wedding rings. But, now...she is blaming me for her death. Blaming me that she is no longer here with me. Blaming me for everything that we have been through. It's more than I can bear.760Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYvSL2g4And
