I woke up slowly.
The same experience I've been feeling in this hell, but it was different; I couldn't breathe. A terrible pressure rested on my neck.
I tried to move, and suddenly, I fell.
When I properly regained consciousness, I noticed it: around my neck was a rope, and on the ceiling, the rest of it, which had snapped...
—Did I... want to end myself?
No... Why?
I looked around me: the apartment, my apartment.
And in my pocket... a letter...
I remembered.
I had written it before hanging myself, as a farewell...
...
I checked the front door, and it was open. I checked the bathroom, and there was nothing there...
The apartment windows were dirty, covered in mold, dust, and God knows what other disgusting filth.
I decided to head to my room to see it...
There she was, my little girl...
Sleeping peacefully...
It was at that moment that my heart began to race.
—Emily...
Resting in her crib, beside her sweet children's music... alive...
—Forgive me, little one.
—Forgive me for trying to leave you alone...
Tears overflowed from my eyes directly onto my daughter's soft little face, waking her...
—Waaah! Waaah!
—Waaah! Waaah! Waaah! Waaah!
The cries began, piercing my ears.
—I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake—
—Waaah! Waaah! Waaah! Waaah! Waaah!
The screams started again. This time they didn't merely pierce; they violently shattered, hurting without pause.
My daughter wouldn't stop. I hugged her, cradling her and trying to calm her down, but it didn't work.
—Waaah!
I walked all around the apartment trying to soothe her.
—Waaah! Waaah! Waaah!
But every attempt ended in failure.
—"Make that damn child shut up already!"
A neighbor's shout echoed through the wall...
No...
It wasn't a neighbor...
The voice was mine.
—Waaah! Waaah!
I tried singing to her, playing with her, feeding her... I tried everything, and nothing worked.
—Waaah! Waaah!
—Then what do you want?!
My shouting scared her...
—Sniff, sniff!
For a moment she calmed down. The screaming stopped.
—Finally, she shut up.
But then she started again with the relentless cries, now even sharper, tearing up her throat in the process.
—Waaaaah!
—Waaaaah! Waaaaah!
Shut up...
—Shut up...
—SHUT UP!
—SHUT UP!
—Waaaaah!
—Waaah! Waaah! Waaah! Waaah!
...
...
My hands reached toward her soft throat, perhaps trying to make sure she wouldn't keep hurting herself...
But...
The screams stopped...
…
...
My hands were trembling...
My little girl was asleep now.
Resting comfortably in her crib, without screams, without cries.
But... my hands wouldn't stop trembling...
...
I searched the room until I found it: a gun. One bullet.
—I'm sorry, darling...
—I'm sorry...
—I'm not a good father...
—Now I remember... the screams...
—I'm not capable of being one... I wasn't capable...
—The screams stopped...
—Forever.
—I don't deserve to keep living.
...
In the last seconds of my existence, I remembered that letter...
"Forgive me, darling. I know you've already been dead for several months, but I still want to write you this letter to apologize.
I promised to be a great husband. I promised to be an excellent father...
But I haven't been able to fulfill either promise, and honestly, I don't believe I'm capable of doing so.
I tried to cope with your loss. I tried to raise our daughter alone, but every day I dreamed of you; I woke up to the screams. I'm not even capable of sleeping. If only I had stopped you, if only we hadn't taken that trip.
If we had never met, maybe you would still be alive. If we hadn't gotten engaged in that beautiful ceremonial forest, perhaps...
For several months I was trapped in the same nightmares and memories. I even sold our house to try to make a fresh start; the house was too big without you...
I've gone to visit you with our daughter. I tried to vent...
I can't take it anymore. I can't keep living like this. The screams, the crying, the expenses... I can't.
No matter how much I try to convince myself otherwise, the truth is that I hate her.
If it weren't for her... everything would be easier.
I despise her.
Forgive me, darling.
You're going to hate me for what I'm about to do.
The rope... is waiting for me.
I lo-."