The letters began shortly after that.
He has been sending me letters. They arrive at the house, addressed to me, in plain envelopes with no return address. The first one was short. Just a few lines. He called me a murderer. He said I stole Arianna's life. He said I deserved to suffer the way she suffered.
I didn't respond. I thought if I ignored him, he would stop. I was wrong. He didn't stop.
The letters kept coming. Each one longer than the last. He wrote about Arianna—what she was like as a child, how she used to sing, how she dreamed of becoming a teacher. He wrote about their parents, who died when they were young, leaving Arianna to raise him alone. He wrote about finding her body. He was ten years old. He was ten years old and he found his sister dead in their apartment, and he has been carrying that image in his mind ever since.
