I wonder how it's going to happen when I'm done and I leave here. Am I just going to wake up in that motel room and you're sitting on the bed with your legs pulled up to your chest, CNN on mute because you didn't want to wake me up, watching the aftermath of what I've done? Will you laugh and tell me you knew I could do it, that now we don't have to worry anymore? That we're free?
Or will I have to find you again? I won't mind if I do.
God, Marie. I miss you so much. And I'm sorry. It should have been me. I should never have switched places with you - he knew I was driving, he was aiming for the driver. I was the target, you were an innocent bystander. You changed me, Marie. I didn't even kill him myself. The car crash took care of that.
The headaches have been getting worse. Now they're just headaches, migraines with no memories. I'm doing something wrong; it's not coming back anymore. I have my journal and nothing new to write in it. My head was always calmer with you around. You told me, the night before you died, that someday I would remember something good from my past. I don't need to. I remember you.
I'm sorry. I love you. I miss you. I hope I'll see you soon.
Happy Valentine's Day.
Jason