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Murder @ Twilight (pt. 8 of 9) by Ray Printer Friendly

November 2

I did it.

The doctor said I would lose time, so that part was expected. I bet if he knew how I was going to spend that lost time, he would have been just as surprised as I was.

One second, Iím sitting there in front of my TV, wondering if the sound of knocking trick-or-treaters is on my front door or on The Gilmore Girls (yes, I fucking watch The Gilmore Girls, okay?), and the next second, Iím sitting down in the park across from her house, covered in blood, a giant knife in my hand.

I did it. I killed that woman.

The only thing I can take comfort in is the fact that I know it was due to the brain tumor. I would never do something like this. Not even in the deepest, darkest, recesses of my soul would I want to kill someone. Even someone as personally repulsive to me as Kristy Brown.

Drawing to a conclusion here, I guess. I got my big confession out of the way, and although I got a little sidetracked, I think I did an okay job of it. Thereís so much pressure involved with writing a suicide note.

When they find me dead in my house later this morning, theyíll be surprised. I am not the suicidal type. Of course, Iím not the homicidal type, either, but nothing stopped me from killing that woman the other night.

Which is really what this whole thing is about, and why I have to do what I have to do.

I am a menace to society. I am a danger to myself and to those around me. Isnít that the shit they say when they lock you up?

I donít want to spend the last bit of my life locked up. If I thought I could run, I would run. Iíve spent my whole life in Twilight, though, and they would catch me within a matter of hours if I tried to escape. Not to mention the fact that I have no inclination to leave.

Iíve spent my whole life here, and although some might call it boring, to me it was perfect. Iíve always tried to give back to the community as much as it has given me. This time, I think that taking away is giving more.

Iím sure Iíll be missed, but if any of my mourners will take the time, I think theyíll realize that this last act is for them as much as it is for me. I hope that doesnít sound as conceded to the readers of this note as it looks to me as I stare at the words.

I will be missed because we were so much a part of each otherís lives, me and the rest of the town. I was a part of a whole, and any time that a part dies, it is missed by the whole. That was one of the greatest things about living in Twilight, was that no matter who you were or what you were (or werenít) doing with your life, you were always a part of something. Something bigger, something better.

A lot of my friends hated Twilight; they hated the lack of privacy, the familiarity, the closeness. They felt suffocated. I felt like it was family.

And Iím sorry to do this to my family, but I think itís for the best. Like I said before, I donít have much time leftótwo months, tops. I doubt anyoneís going to cure cancer in the next two months, so Iím probably safe on the whole, ďOh, if only he had waitedĒ front.

I donít know if Iím making any sense. I was drinking tequila earlier, but that has nothing to do with what I will do when I finish this note.

The tequila was actually a precaution to make sure that I went through with it. Death doesnít seem real when youíre drunk.

I have this gun, and I know that it has bullets in it, and I know that when I put this gun in my mouth and pull the trigger, that Iím going to be splattered all over the place. But it still doesnít seem real.

Movies have conditioned us to believe that the hero always wins, and life has conditioned us to believe that we are all heroes.

I am no hero, no matter how hard I tried. I did some good around my town; I made some people smile, and I made some people laugh. I loved and I was loved. I think thatís about all that can be expected. I guess I kind of went above and beyond in killing Kristy.

I might seem a little apathetic about the murder, but thatís only because I canít wrap my head around the fact that I killed a woman any more than I can wrap my head around the fact that Iím about to kill myself.

It all seems like something on TV or in a book. Or in a dream.

Thatís why the tequila.

I guess I better get to it. Sorry, Sammy, that you have to live through two suicide notes. My hope is that one might cancel out the other. I donít know if it works like that, but I really hope so.

I love you, Sammy, and Iím sorry that you had to read thisóhonestly, I always thought that both of us would live forever. Youíll notice that Iíve also sent this to the Sheriffís office, sparing you the trouble of having to forward it on. Thatís Ďcause Iím a helluva a guy. Tell your mom I love her, and be sure to tell my mom, too.

I hate that it has to be this way, but there was no other acceptable way for things to end.

I know that youíll probably go through a period where you hate me, but please forgive me. And then do me one favor: Live your life. Let go of the guilt, let go of the anger, let go of the hurt. Just live your life, and live it to the fullest. I think that even if youíre pissed at me for this, youíll know that you owe me.

And speaking of owing me, I believe thereís a certain bet that needs to be settled up about the no more smoking thing. Thatíll be a million dollars, miss.


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