im dyin slowly, i cant breath, i cant eat, i cant sleep! i sit up every nite callin but i dont get answered, tears runnin down my face and rite before they hit my pillow you wipe my face "baby i been gone for a few hours"," i kno but it feel like you been gone for years, i love you Tristy was lying in her lonely king size bed, hugging her feather pillow to her chest and breathing shallow. Her face was pale and her Violet hair was stringy and dull. Mascara was running down her face with those terribly salty tears. She knew she only had a little while left, just a few hours, three at the most. She had to tell Thomas. But he still wasn't home. She had to tell him everything. About Michael, about Sarah. About her...there was so many things he didn't know! She loved him too much. That was the damn problem! She was afraid that if he knew...knew everything....he'd leave her, and that would hurt the most. She couldn't stand that. But soon, she'd have to leave him. Have to leave everyone. She got up from her bed and wobbled to the desk across the room, sat down and grabbed her lucky purple feather pen and some parchment paper and began to write. Telling of her story, her lies and most importantly why. Why she was so screwed up, why this was happening and why she loved him so much. This letter was filled with such emotion, such love and such fear, that her crying intensified. Her hair fell in her face and her hands began to shake, but she had to finish writing, he had to know. She was at her final words 'And Dearest Thomas, this is my life, my secret. My lies Being revealed. I hope you can forgive me. Remember me for the young woman you fell in love with, and know that she too loves you in re-' That was where her letter ended. She could never finish the last few words. For you see, dear reader, the lowly woman could no longer last. The clock stopped ticking for her. Her last grains of sand had dropped. Death was waiting at her door. She fell to the floor, cold and lifeless. It wasn't painful. She had spilled her secrets, her heart, she had told the truth and now she was at peace. Her distant eyes remained open as death himself walked into her room. He had been waiting all evening. Now he got what he wanted as he snatched her soul and whispered to it, "Dear Child, your life was nothing but sin. You lied and stole, you killed without pity and for this all I should send you to hell. But you righted yourself. You fell in love and you were naive once again. This is truly an act of forgiveness. I cannot send you were you belong, but I must send you to that pretty place in the sky. Do not get excited though. It doesn't have the singing choir of angels, or the golden gates to let you in, no one is shining and you won't see God. It's peaceful. It's nothing. Your existence completely just ends. Your soul doesn't live on and you are forgotten." his words were chilling and it held the wisdom of a million lifes, lived. But when he finished, he whispered a word of the ages, one lost with time and greed, one that only he remembers. With that silent word, the little ball of light that was once Tristy, gave a shutter and then, he closed his palm hard and the soul fell to pieces, disappearing in the night. His work here was done. He was about to leave when he noticed the letter. He didn't even look at it, he just grabbed it and ripped it to pieces, opening the window and throwing it out with the wind. Her beloved would never solve the mystery of Tristy Claire.