Crushed
"Jack, I wish you had believed me. JL."
That was what the suicide note said. In the last moments of whatever he called a life, John Locke chose to write to me. I still don't understand why me of all people. I kept the note in my pocket for the longest time, not telling anyone what was on it, or that I'd even received it.
The truth is that I never believed in him, not even after he died. It all seemed like some kind of cruel joke, and if there was such a thing as the afterlife he was looking down and laughing at me.
It's cold to be so unforgiving to someone who has passed on, I know. But there's more to it than that. There's so much that he did, so much that came between us. I don't even know if I wish I was sorry.
I do know that I was the only one who went to his funeral, as neither friend nor family. I think that says a lot about me too.
That was what the suicide note said. In the last moments of whatever he called a life, John Locke chose to write to me. I still don't understand why me of all people. I kept the note in my pocket for the longest time, not telling anyone what was on it, or that I'd even received it.
The truth is that I never believed in him, not even after he died. It all seemed like some kind of cruel joke, and if there was such a thing as the afterlife he was looking down and laughing at me.
It's cold to be so unforgiving to someone who has passed on, I know. But there's more to it than that. There's so much that he did, so much that came between us. I don't even know if I wish I was sorry.
I do know that I was the only one who went to his funeral, as neither friend nor family. I think that says a lot about me too.