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You're so innocent, so lost in thoughts that you can't understand, thinking all the time. You're wasting your youth with all this, if only you realized that you have time, you have all the time life can offer you and you can think when you are older. Lately, these past few years, you keep thinking about her, don't you? You keep seeing her in your mind, in your thoughts, in your sleep and she is in your dreams that don't make sense. You're so innocent, it's scary.

I'm sorry for making life so scary. I was the monster beneath your bed, the never ending storm that shook your world. I'm sorry for beating you. I'm sorry you were a puppet, and I'm sorry I didn't tell you so much about your mother. When I saw her in her black maternity dress, when she came down in that robe, and you were in her tummy, your brother was asleep, and she smiled at me. She was a good woman, a good wife and a good mother.

I'm sorry for beating her. I'm sorry for what I did to your sisters. They used to be so pure. I'm sorry for your brother, he should have been saner. I'm sorry for making you believe in lies all your life. I know I don't look like a hero at all, and I know that I am but a horror in your life.

I'm sorry. I was a bad man. I was a bad father. I was the nightmare. I was the abyss.

I'm dying. The universe is eating my soul. My energy is leaving.

I never thought I'd die alone, but I should have expected it. I laughed aloud at all the pain, much like your brother. I was depressed, deep inside, and I took it out on the world, on family, on you. I'm sorry for killing her, I'm sorry for taking away life from you. You look so dead, everyday, like a leper, a ghoul - that's what they call you. When I was a child, my days felt alive, there was sunshine. I'm sorry for breaking your mind, I'm so sorry for taking love away from your life. I replaced it with hate, with numbness, with a strange and sick darkness, much like I did to your brother.

I'll never come home, and I'll never stop your pain. I won't waste your time, I can't heal you, I was the one who burnt you - who tortured your soul, who cut your cheeks when you were young. I put dirt in your mouth when you spoke against me, and I hung your friends. I'm sorry.

Don't listen to them. I don't have voices in my head - other than your mothers. I miss her. She is with me all the time, in my heart and in my guilt. I strangled her with a rope, against a tree. I'm sorry. I remember her bulging eyes, her blue eyes that became red with veins, and her purple skin as he chocked and the cuts around her neck where the rope had dug into her flesh. I remember the argument that caused it. I remember a lot of the arguments. And I miss her.

I was angry at everything and I was so alone, so detached, and I took it out on everything that was far away from me. I haven't paid for what I have done, I have gotten away with my abuse upon the world, upon you. I am merely dying and it's a natural phenomenon. I got away with it all and this is why there is no justice in the world.

There is only people like me.

Abusers.

I'm sorry.