Letters to a dead

(Dette er en historie jeg skriver til en engelsk opgave, altså er den på engelsk.)
Amelia Jones' storebror, Andrew er død. Dræbt i en trafikulykke. Hun er knust og man har fået hende til at skrive breve til hendes døde bror, men inde imellem linjerne har hun afsløret hvem det er der har myrdet hendes bror.
Amelia leder nu selv efter spor på af det virkelig er ham hun tror og det viser sig at det er ham... Han er bare ikke lige hvad hun troede han var. Hun havde dog ret i to ting, han er morderen og at han ikke er menneskelig..

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2. Dear Andrew

Dear Andrew,

I still don't believe in your destiny. Your fucking destiny. I'm afraid to believe in it, 'cause everytime I think about it, I can't stop thinking that you're death wasn't just an accident. It was predeterminded, and I just can't say to my self that it was the meaning that you should die. Because, like you know, you were my only and best friend. And you know what? You still my best and only friend. They all say that it's time to move on, let past be past, but I can't forget you, your smile, your laugh, the warm in your hugs... brother, you will be in my brain to my end. My lovely end.

I have been written these letters to you in, I guess, one hour. But I have already cried a lot, I don't know how I can stand toward this. When I see a picture of you, I cry. When I here you voice in my head, I cry. When I feel the warm from you in my body, I cry. When I think about you, I cry. Every single minute in my life reminds me of you, evrytime I breath I remember how much you breathed when you had during a trip. Your death has drived me crazy! I seriously think that I'm crazy, now.

And do you know what, Andrew? You remember the reason to your death right? Stupid question, of course you do. But the man there killede you, they haven't found him yet! And they say that we just have to wait, but what are we waiting for? I will not wait, just to see the man there is the reason to that you're death. I couldn't stand throw it. See his face.. It would break me. But I don't care. Because, now I have done something no other could have done. I've found the murder. Your murder. You already know him, you want to know who it is? It's the neighbor, you know, in the strange house. How ironic, don't you think? The man in the house, you loved, is your murder...

~ Your sister, Amelia xx

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