Guilt

Five years and it haunts me still. I can't escape it, the look in its eyes. No, not its eyes, his eyes. That wasn't just a thing, it was a guardian, a protector, and it was truly good despite its hideous appearance.

The look of it was what helped us convince ourselves we couldn't have known, but I knew. Not right away, but before the end, I knew it was wrong, that we were killing something good. Even though I didn't inflict the final blow, my silence killed him all the same.

We also told each other that it was a dream, that it wasn't real. We tried to believe the thing, he, never even existed. I know better. As surely as I know he was good, I know that we murdered him in the truest sense of the word.

It was real, but because it seemed so unreal, I could never make it right. There was no one to apologize to and no one to confess to. I couldn't tell the others. I didn't want to drag them down into this pit with me. They should live and love and rejoice in what I hope is true ignorance. Only I can ever know the truth.

I know it's real in part because it's happening again. We thought we had won, but somehow, she's come back. I've heard the stories. Kids disappearing from their beds or just never waking up. Some are still alive, in a coma. Maybe for them, there is hope. Maybe I can still save them, and whoever is yet to be taken, too.

I've tried to get back before. I tried what got us there before, but it didn't work. I've consulted mediums and others, but I never dared tell them the full story. Maybe that is why they failed, too. I can't think of any other way than this. This is my last hope.

There is no guardian left. She is just picking them off; they have no chance. They can't see the look of pain and longing in its eyes that tells them not to trust her. They don't even have a clue, and if any had succeeded like we had, it wouldn't be happening still, not so soon.

I want you to know that none of this is your fault. It was all about this, this pivotal moment in my life at that house five years ago. That was the reason I never became the soccer star I could have been. That was the reason I refused to get a cat. That was the reason I won't let you kill any spiders anymore. It was never about you. I love you.

I want you to know that this is not a suicide. I pray to God and whoever else might listen that this won't actually kill me, at least not fully. I just need to go to sleep for a very long time. There is no protector. It is my fault there is no protector. I know what I have to do.

If I find a way to communicate with you once I'm on the other side, I will. If I can't find a way, I want you to know that I love you and that I'm finally trying to do what's right. Please, don't try to understand what I'm talking about. Please, if I do just slip into a coma, don't try to bring me out. I'm doing this for the others, for the ones that are worth saving. I'm doing this because I know in my heart that it is right and that there is no one else who can do it but me. It's not a god-complex, it's just the truth.

You can cry if you want to; I'd understand. I know I didn't cry enough. This is good-bye, Mother. You will say I was young, but they are even younger, and they deserve it less than I do. If the mysterious deaths and disappearances stop, you'll know I've succeeded, and if not, you'll know that I tried. I will always be your daughter, and I will always love you, no matter what happens next.

Goodbye.

Amanda