Hey you fucker,

I'll send you the carton of cigarettes if that's what you're after. And I really don't give a shit about the sick sexual stuff you and your buddies get into. As to the discomfort you feel when I'm around, it's probably due to that last fucking letter you sent me. Don't even hand me that. Omnipotence?! I can't believe you. Ever since Alex passed away, you've been such a motherfucker.

It doesn't seem like Alex to answer? Well according to everyone else, Alex didn't seem like Alex at all near the time of the accident. I've done my research, Timothy. His phone records say he made three forty minute calls to Bolivia three days before he died.

I think the authorities might be on to something. I don’t know how. But it is important that I stress something to you: Never attempt to contact me in anyway other than these letters. And never say my name over the telephone. I don’t want to get fucking imprisoned, Timothy. Not that the police would ever have any evidence of anything. And not that I’ve actually done anything… But the police and I have a history that I’d rather not get into just now.

Anyhow, the lines are probably tapped so I wouldn’t risk talking about any of this if I were you. You’re not quite in the position to be taking anymore risks, especially after what happened last time. Jesus, Tim.

If you can’t tell, I’m a bit angry with you. But more than that, I’m worried. Be careful, Timothy. This is dangerous. And I know you said you love me, but shit is getting old. Once all of this blows over, maybe things will change. But until then, Tim, we'll just have to wait and see.

Again, Be careful. You aren't allowed to die yet, I need you.

Yours truly,
Karen

*****

This letter is from Karen to Timothy Booth. If you are lost as to what these letters are in reference to, please use Xomba to search the tag "Trumsey," and read the byte entitled, "Eliminating Reality."