My legs give out suddenly from underneath me and I collapse onto the floor. The room is spinning, my head hurts, my heart is pounding, and the envelope in my hand is burning my skin.
I bite down hard on my lip as somehow my hand moves to rip open the fold. What am I doing? Why am I doing this? I should just throw it away, forget about it, forget that it ever existed; b-but I can't do that. Julianne touched this envelope, she touched whatever's inside, this is a part of her, I can't just get rid of it so easily!
I pull the paper out slowly, barely noticing how much my hands are shaking as I do. I unfold it.
To: Alexander Bay
My body stops moving. I'm too afraid to read the rest. Why is the subject murder? When did she write this letter? How did I not know-
"It's not the time to talk about it." She looked down at her hand then. Her fingers were red and smudged with led.
O-Oh my God. How did I not notice this? The night before she died, her fingers were so red and there was so much lead on them. Why didn't I ask her why!? I clench my teeth together, the only way I'm going to answer any of my lingering questions, is if I read this letter. I-I have to.
Before you read on any further, if you find this letter and I'm not already dead; burn it.
The first sentence catches me off guard quickly. Julianne already knew that she was going to be killed.
OK, well if you've read on this far then I'm guessing you're either really stubborn or I am truly and actually dead.
I'm just going to get to the point with you Alexander because I know you don't like to deal with any unnecessary bullshit, especially when it comes to me. If I am dead by the time you read this, I just want you to know that I did not die naturally, commit suicide, or die accidentally; I was murdered. Murdered by someone that I have addressed one of these letters to. I have written letters to 20 people that I have suspected may have murdered me.
In these letters, I will write to the person, and explain everything that I have been through with them, (hopefully) pinpointing why they may have killed me.
I have hidden the remaining letters at the specific locations of each suspect. I've also written the address of the subsequent suspect at the bottom of each letter, so after you're done reading, you will read the next address, and then move on to find the next letter. The letters have all been conveniently hidden at each address, I will provide you with that information as well.
You don't even know how sorry I am to have to do this to you Alexander, but you're the only one that I believe can find my killer. I know you probably think that I'm crazy, thinking that someone murdered me, but I just know Alexander, you need to trust me on this. Somehow, out of these 20 people, there is one person that took my life away from me; and I need you to figure out who that person is. I know how impossible that sounds, but I know you can do it. I'll try to be as precise as I possibly can when I'm writing to help you out.
You probably have so many questions right now, and I'm sorry I can't answer any of them, but I promise everything will be alright. I love you Alexander. If I ever told you that before I died, it was true, so true that if I could come back to life and tell you again, I would in a heartbeat.
Good luck Alexander, I wish I could be there with you now, holding you close, and telling you over and over again how much I love you. I'm so sorry. I really hate myself.
Second Address: 143 Williams Avenue
Location: Beneath rose bush in front of house, to the left (better preferred if you go at night)
I lower the letter stiffly. W-What, what the hell is this? I crumple it up, hot tears roll painfully down my cheeks as I do.
I stand up slowly. "WHY THE HELL ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME?!"