love, atlas

7

Aria,

Admitting what happened hurt. I cried until I became a raisin last night. That definitely gave me a terrible reputation in Block C.

But who cares? You're gone, Aria.

Writing in here is useless. Trying to get out of jail is useless. Living is useless.

I never imagined life without you, and now look where I am. In the pits of hell, hoping you'll receive my letters all the way up in heaven.

I never knew if there was a heaven or hell, but whatever there is, I hope you're happy.

You deserve it. You deserve everything. You deserve to be alive.

But who took it away from you?

It's a weird situation, and I'm not sure if I should blame Peter or myself.

I invited you over. I'm the reason you were at the house. But I tried to help you. I tried to save you from Peter.

He was too violent that night. Drunk off his ass, as usual.

And you, just like an angel, as usual, tried to help him. But it was a bad idea. That night was different. He was an animal...

A monster...

I shudder at what went down in the ten minutes after I welcomed you into the house. I hoped you would help calm Peter down from his drunken rage.

You were always good at that.

And then you died.

I don't want to think about it more. It needs to stay dead. Unlike you.

Love,

Atlas