the letter | task four.
Benny,
This feels stupid to write. I don’t want to be writing this. For some reason, everyone tells me this is a way to let go of the past, so here I am trying.
I can’t point you out if I saw you in a crowd, I don’t know your last name. The only thing I know about you is that you took my son’s mother away from him. The last thing my son heard before he went to sleep was an argument between the two of you, and he woke up to his mother not being there in the morning. They say kids are resilient, but this is something that he’s never going to recover from, something he’s always going to wonder about. You took her from her family - it might not have been perfect, but we were a family. The crime scene replays through my head every time I close my eyes. The last visual I have of my wife is her being zipped up into a blue body bag, do you know what that’s like?
The word ‘monster’ isn’t an accurate description of you. I don’t know where you came from or why you picked my family to tear apart, but I will spend every last day of my life trying to pin point who you are, and once I find out, I hope you speak to whatever higher power you believe in. This didn’t release any rage. I didn’t help my grief. You ruined my life - and I will ruin yours.
X,
Levi.