I hope this letter find you in good health. I'm sorry for not writing to you for such a long time. I'm afraid I haven't been the same since Patrick's death. Knowing what a kind soul you are and how you have always been the best sister to me, I'm sure you'll understand. I pray to God in each of my prayers that this letter will find you or end up in the Irish Sea rather than fall in the wrong hands. I am shuddering as I scribble this letter.
Regarding Patrick's death, the reason why they have not found Patrick's murderer yet is because I am the one who killed him. I know it's very shocking, but I hope you will read this letter till the end. I am about to tell you something I have not told a single living soul, so promise me that this is between God, you and I. On that unfortunate day, as usual, I was waiting for Patrick to come back home from work. He came back on time, punctual as always and sat on his favorite chair in his entire cool somber mood.
Molly, you should have seen him. He was a man in his zenith years, emitting his manly glow that illuminates my mundane boring life as a housewife. I love him by the way he sits coolly in his favorite couch, I love his pensive quiet eyes, I love the way he walks in slowly with long strides. I love everything about him. I'm sorry, I seem to have gotten carried away, but I need to let you know that despite what I did, I still loved him. .
When he came back from work that day, I was about to prepare supper when he told me he had something important to say. I can't bear to write the exact words he said, because the very memory of it brings me to tears. The gist of it was that he was leaving me and would make sure that I would be taken care of. The world was in a daze. Without thinking, I walked across the room and at that time I couldn't even feel my feet touching the floor. I was on auto-pilot mode. In the next split of a second, I saw him sprawled on the floor facing downwards.