[Text] I̶O͏Ĺ̀AU̶S҉ ̧́͏I̴ƠĹ̢A͟Ú̧S̢͠ IO͠L̵̷͡A͏U̡̢S͝.͠ ͜Wḩat ̢̡a͏̢ ̸͢p͏̢͟r͢e̛t̸͠͡ty̶ ̸͢͠n̴a̧͟m̸͞e̶̷̕ ͏̨͞y̧͜ơ̵u͜͠ ͏h̡a̷a̵͜av͏̴͞e҉̸.́
[ Of all the times to receive such a message.
Robert had been blackmailing him for the medical treatment of his dog, Wiggam, and Edgar had refused to submit, refused to give more money than he already had, so the dog he’d had for six years was potentially dying—or dead because of what had happened in London.
His family may or may not have been affected by the events in London, and he had not heard word from his family—not that he truly expected it, but not knowing if they were alright was killing him.
Not to mention that he had stopped sending letters to his parents—ignoring that part of his therapy since his kidnapping and torture in 2002 for the first time in ten years. And now he didn’t even know if they were alive. There was a guilt there that couldn’t stem from logical means, but it was eating him alive all the same.
He left the text unanswered. ]















