This is an odd method of storytelling that will preoccupy the first half of this fic. But I rather liked writing it. Hope you enjoy!

O.G.

Dear Christine,

I know it is presumptuous for me to be writing you. Even more presumptuous that you will read it. And completely unreasonable that you shall respond. But I grow desperate in the closing hours. All I ask is you read on words before making a final decision on this letter. Forgive me my dear, if it does indeed turn out to be the ramblings of a mad man. But I ramble I must.

Firstly, I shall start out this letter with a note of comfort for yourself. I have no idea what address this letter will be sent to. Nadir is to send it, with strict instructions not to give any indication of your address. I shall not follow. I shall not be within a hundred kilometres to yourself. In fact I do not think we reside in the same country any more, for, after an extensive and ongoing recovery I have relocate to somewhere else in Europe. I have no plans to hurt anyone ever again, including your fiance. Nor will I intrude on your lives beyond this initial letter (unless I am allowed to send more after this, but more on that later). But this first letter is a must, I feel, for us both.

The second thing I must address is the first purpose of this letter.

I know I am not redeemable, after the monstrosities I have made you, and others endure. I understand that now. I know I have no chance in any hell or world for forgiveness, from anyone. Nor do I require it. But what is required of me, if I hope to sleep at all, is an apology. I have no idea how to express the regret I feel for my actions. I punish myself nightly over it. I do not sleep, or eat. Nadir has more than once forced a feeding tube upon me coupled with sedatives in order to keep me alive.

I do not walk. During the events of that night I was… assaulted, by the mob. I am not bitter about it, for it was a well deserved beating and aftermath. But unfortunately- or morally speaking, fortunately- I lost a leg at down point. Nadir has been trying to convince me to invent a prosthetic or even wear a current model. I refuse. I do not deserve such a luxury as basic independence. Instead I crawl, if I need to move at all.

I do not speak. This one I do not even understand myself but I am grateful for my punishment in it. Everytime I open my mouth it is only silence that escapes me. I do not understand why but what use is a voice to me anyways. My music fled from me as did majority of my life that night. Without it, I see no great use for the noise to begin with.

Personally I feel all of it is not enough punishment. I deserve only the pits of hell as retribution. Accompanying this fact I tell you that I am, truly, sorry. For all I did. And only ask that you do not forgive me, for I know that can never be deserved. And if you ever did consider it, even as a fleeting thought, it is only a mark that you truly are a blessing upon this Earth.

With this explanation I must move on to the second purpose of this exceedingly long letter. In my months of silent thought I… I find myself falling to madness Christine. True madness. Last year I was a mad man yes, but I still had a shred of understanding of my surroundings. Of you at the very least. But now I am forgetting where I am and the pendulum of the axe swings low in myself prison. Sometimes it seems I forget all. My mind runs truly blank. Memories gone. Recently I have trouble remembering the names of simple household items. Normally I would say this too is just punishment but there are two things wrong with this idea.

Firstly, if I grow truly mad, and forget all I know, become the true shell that I have been turning into, then I run the risk of losing the only precious thing I have in this world. The one thing that I value more than my own punishment.

You. The memory of you. The one act of true kindness or undeserved tenderness that has ever been spared for me. That one kiss that has become my only life line in all of this. I cling to it. Hord it in my darkest moments, much like a dragon settled over its golden horde. This most important memory, and the memory of just, well, you, is something that I feel I must fight to keep. This has become my main motivation for writing you.

My second and slightly lesser fear of madness stems from the fact it was madness that born me into a monster last year. I did lose some sanity along the way. Personally I blame myself as well as my self imposed solitude that lasted far too long. I fear of its return. Of losing all senses but this time in an even more severe way. It feels as if when we kissed, I had a second, one second, of fresh air. A reset of my mental health if you will. And I would like to preserve as much as that air as possible, lest I drown.

So it is this reason, a reason of madness, that I wrote you Christine. To beg for one more act of mercy on your part, even if I do not deserve it. I ask simply that… you reply. To this.

You see. Ever since I had this idea of writing you, I have felt a bit better. I had down form of purpose, even if it was only for a short time. I discovered I want- no, require, something to look forward to, if I wish to have some form of way to stay… me. Or what is left of me. And the only thing I can think of is a letter from you. It can be about anything. It can be about your hatred for me for all I care, but all I ask is for some word from you. I know I have not and never shall earn this right to ask this if you but I find myself so utterly needing it.

If you choose to accept, I can promise you that all you will ever receive from me are letters. I shall never approach you again unless you ask me to do so. I will not burden you with a lump of letters, but rather, one and only one in response to your own.

If you wish for some form of self justification, think of it as how our once friendship began. A correspondent and companion that existed only in words and notes. It is clear we can at least, be in a relationship such as that. One where I am distant but there.

I ask you this one last mercy Christine, fully expecting rejection and silence. But I ask I must.

I truly hope this letter finds you happy and well. That he does make you happy, that is all I can wish for you. I hope and dream that when you read this your heart is as light as any summer breeze, and your eyes are bright and cheerful.

If you respond, please do let me know if I may reply to that letter as well. If I get any response and it is only hatred and a wish to forget I live, than you shall never hear from me again. That much I can promise.

If you have gotten this far, thank you, for at the very least reading this.

Know that you are always loved Christine,

~Erik

O.G.

please review! More to come!