"Dear person who's reading this,

I don't know where my letter ended up, or who got it, and you must be asking yourself why it befalls you, why this letter ? This is actually a plead for help. I need to talk about it, but I have no one to listen to me, someone I could talk to. So I just found this solution. Therefore I will tell you, unknown person, all of that. My story. Obviously I am not forcing you to read it, it would be hard from where I am anyhow. But the fact is that it's helping me that someone know how much a man can suffer, that someone know about this horrible secret. This is my story :

My name is Louis, I'm 19. It's been three month now, I had been subjected by what they call "criminal urge". At least that's what everybody think, because I can't believe it. I don't want to believe it. Yes, I killed my mother and my sister. I was caught. I have so much regrets, I just don't understand myself. And I still feel guilty. There's a burden oppressing me, obsessing me, a question, incessantly :
Why ?

Why did I do that ? I loved my sister more than anything in the world, my mother was so comprehensive.

It's my father who gave me that need to kill. I am certain of it. That day he "assassinated" me. I was in an alternative word. It's impossible to describe how I felt. He never wanted me. My sister either. If I killed them, the two wife of my life, it was to protect them from what was coming... Not to be in pain even more...

Because when I came back from the hospital, he hated me even more. He tried to make it look like a suicide attempt while I was in coma : by a bullet in the head. This bullet, I still have it inside. It's reducing my life expectancy. I know I only have a few years ahead at most if I don't have a surgery. A few years in terror, rage, fear, sadness.

The day of the murder, they brought me to the police station. I stayed here two nights waiting to  appear in court. The judge convicted me to the maximum penalty : prison and psychiatric hospital. I am not mad ! I wanted to save them ! Except I wasn't supposed to kill my father, because he had the presence of mind to turn everything against me. And when he saw  what I was doing, he lashed it out on me.  Shouting words that still echoes in my head all day long.

"Fuck, you brat, that's my job ! And you'll have your turn ! You son of a bitch !"

He jumped on me, falling on the knife I was holding, cutting his carotid without me having the time to understand. When they came to find me, I was lying in my progenitor's blood. I am actually on the run lost in a little village, hidden in the gloomy unfrequented streets, feeding myself with what I can find with what I brought with me when I escaped. Feeing the authorities, and by the same time sadness.

At least that's what I thought. But three months... Three month being lonely, dwelling on this scene, again and again, night and day, it drives you crazy. No one can understand that heartbreak, except if you live it. I need to talk about it so much, but being wanted, it's impossible for me.

I am maybe asking you for too much, but if you read so far, please, give me an answer. Even if it's only one word. I need it. I need it to know my secret won't fully be one.

You can write here :

Mervanish, England, Mrs. Dichey

I'll manage to get the letter, but could you give me a distinct sign so I can recognize it ?

Thank you if you read, and sorry to put you that way into trust. A trouble of being alone, supporting all of this, shrugged it all off for a bit.

Louis"

The young man read the letter, surprised at first, but paying attention then. He could see some traces that tears might have left here. Would he reply ? An then, this Louis gave him all his belief. Or should he say, not to him personally, but to the person who would read that. And he was that person.

He read the paper again, thinking about his possibilities. If he didn't reply, his life would not change at all, but this man's very hope would be falling through. But if he chose to reply...