A Letter Home

My dear Kate,

I know you have a lot of questions. Please understand that this letter is the best I can do. I am sticking my neck out, but I couldn’t bear to let you think that I skipped out on you and Sarah.

When you two left for Seattle, I started noticing a strange chubby guy with thick-rimmed glasses poking around our yard at night. I noticed him peeking in the windows. Sometimes he would just sit in the middle of the grass, staring at the house. This continued for three nights, and on the last he dug through our trashcans. That morning I was sitting in the kitchen making some coffee and I look up I see his face pressed up against the glass of the front door. When he saw me staring he ran, but he fell off of the front step. When I opened the door he got up. I asked him if he needed anything and he crouched over in fear. He said no, he just wanted to see the inside of his house.

            Now I was getting worried. I grabbed a pocketknife from the kitchen drawer and sneaked out of the house to follow him. I wanted to see where he was going, what he was doing, and if he was creeping around any other homes.

I got outside to find he had only made it midway down the street. He was stumbling over himself, murmuring and playing with his hands. I followed him down the street. It turns out he lives near us. When he got to his front door he snapped his head in all directions, breathing so loudly and rapidly that I could hear him from behind his neighbor’s hedges, where I hid, as he hastily pulled out his keys and shoved them into the lock. Through the windows I could see that the inside of the house was dark. When he went in I lost sight of him, but through another window in the back of the house I saw a door open. A fluorescent light poured out as a silhouette hurried into a basement stairwell before slamming the door behind him.

I sneaked to the front door found that he was too quick and careless to close his it all the way. I pushed it open, and Kate I can’t even begin to describe the smell. It was as though he had left a decomposing body in the house; and for all I know there could have been one. My heart was pounding as I advanced further in. I couldn’t see any furniture in the darkness; only bare, chipped walls, and a cracked white tile floor.

I heard squeals from the basement. I knew it was a bad idea to go down there, but I was worried about the fact he had been sneaking around. I have a duty to protect our family so I continued toward the door. I couldn’t steady my hands as I opened it, careful not to rush it and make any noise. None of it felt right, the house, the constant creeping, I felt that this could be a terrible situation. As fate would have it, it was much, much worse then terrible. As I was halfway down the steps I was able to peer below the basement ceiling and I saw him pacing back and forth, snarling and shrieking. He was yammering about the fact that I had seen him when he looked through the door. He resembled a monster, Kate; a hideous, deeply troubled creature. His face was covered in sweat and grease, his stomach spilled out of his shirt and over the waste band of the gray sweatpants he wore. I looked around. What I noticed next will deeply haunt me for the rest of my life. Every wall was lined with dozens of photographs of us, our home, going about our lives not knowing that the light that surrounded us was being captured through a lens. There was even one of you taken through the window as you stood in our master bathroom while you were changing. He must have climbed a tree to get that one. There were ones of our daughter, Kate. Our daughter.

Everything went white, my thoughts started racing, why did he take these pictures? What was he doing with them? Oh god what kind of perverted shit was he doing? That’s when he saw me. His eyelids widened and he stood frozen, unable to move or speak. His lips quivered as spit glistened on them.

Before I knew it I was rushing towards him. I shoved him hard against the wall and he screamed. He fell to the ground. The knife had made its way from my pocket to my hand. I should have called the police, my dear. But I wasn’t thinking straight; this man, this freak, had been spying on us. He breached our privacy, who was to say he wouldn’t do more? How long would it have been before he broke into our home? What if he tried to hurt you? To hurt Sarah? The cops were not an option. Logic was not able to punch through my rage and disgust. In that moment, I only saw one clear resolution to this horror. I plunged the blade into his blubbery chest, I yanked it out, and then shoved it back in again; and again. Then I took the knife to his neck. If I weren’t so distraught I would have been truly haunted by the image of his torn body lying there. Blood was leaking from his wounds like water down a stream, pooling around his motionless lump of a body and slowly creeping outwards across the floor. Suddenly the ground beneath my feet was flying past me. The wood floor turned to stairs, then to tile, which gave way to the cement of the sidewalk.

I ran until I couldn’t breathe anymore, finally stopping in the middle of the road a mile from home. After pulling myself together I realized what I had actually done, I could go to jail for the rest of my life. I should have just knocked him out and called the police, but what would any father, any husband do? Pigs like that shouldn’t be allowed to live. I had two options, one was to turn myself in and face the consequences, risking a life away from you and Sarah, or I could run; escape the fate of confinement and that way we would only have to be separated for a small amount of time while things cooled down, as opposed to the possible forever. I couldn’t let our daughter grow up without her father, and I couldn’t leave you with the burden of raising her on your own, so I ran. Please don’t think of me as a killer, don’t be afraid of me. I didn’t think, I just did it; I am no murderer. I’m sure you’re wondering where I am, but I can’t tell you just yet; it’s not safe. Soon the police will realize who to look for. They will find the knife and come to you. You need to be adamant that you haven’t heard from me, and you have no idea what is going on. I want you to know I’m safe and being well looked after. An old friend has helped me greatly. You should see where I am Kate, even though the circumstances are not perfect, I am in a beautiful place. When the time is right I will send for you and Sarah. We will be together again soon, I promise.

With all the love in the world,

Your Husband.