*𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘭. 𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 *

09/18/1977

I ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴡʜᴏ ᴡɪʟʟ ғɪɴᴅ ᴛʜɪs, ʙᴜᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴡʜᴏᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴅᴏᴇs, ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ᴘᴀss ᴛʜɪs ɴᴏᴛᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴍʏ ʟᴏᴠᴇ, Lᴜᴄʏ.

I ғᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴏᴛᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʟᴇғᴛ ᴏɴ ᴍʏ ɴɪɢʜsᴛᴀɴᴅ. I ᴅɪᴅɴ'ᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ғᴇʟᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴍᴇ, ʙᴜᴛ I ᴡɪsʜ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴛᴏʟᴅ ᴍᴇ. Yᴏᴜ ᴅɪᴅɴ'ᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴇᴛᴇɴᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀʀᴇᴅ ᴀʟʟ ᴏғ ᴛʜɪs ᴛɪᴍᴇ, ʙᴜᴛ ɪᴛ's ᴏᴋᴀʏ. Iᴛ ᴡᴀsɴ'ᴛ ᴍᴇᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ, I ɢᴜᴇss. Bᴜᴛ ɴᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴏɴ'ᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴡᴏʀʀʏ ᴀᴛ ᴀʟʟ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴍᴇ, I ᴡᴏɴ'ᴛ ɢᴇᴛ ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴡᴀʏ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ. I ᴍᴇᴀɴ, I ᴅɪᴅɴ'ᴛ ᴍᴇᴀɴ ғᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ғɪɴᴅ ᴍᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜɪs, ʙᴜᴛ ɪsɴ'ᴛ ɪᴛ ᴀ ʀᴇʟɪᴇғ?

I ᴋɴᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘʀᴏʙᴀʙʟʏ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ᴄᴀʀᴇ, ʙᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴍʏ ᴏɴʟʏ ʜᴏᴘᴇ, ᴍʏ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴛᴏ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ɢᴏɪɴɢ. I ʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ, ᴀɴᴅ I ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ᴡᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ. Wʜʏ ᴅɪᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴀɴ ᴇᴍᴘᴛʏ ᴘʀᴏᴍɪsᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ? I ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴀsᴋ ᴀ ᴍɪʟʟɪᴏɴ ᴡʜʏ's ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ's ɴᴏ ᴜsᴇ, ɪs ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ? A ᴍɪʟʟɪᴏɴ ᴏ̨ᴜᴇsᴛɪᴏɴs ғᴏʀᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴜɴᴀɴsᴡᴇʀᴇᴅ. Tʜᴀᴛ's ʟɪғᴇ, ᴅᴀʀʟɪɴɢ, ɪsɴ'ᴛ ɪᴛ?

I'ᴍ sᴏʀʀʏ. Sᴏʀʀʏ ғᴏʀ ᴡᴀsᴛɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴛɪᴍᴇ, ғᴏʀ ʙᴇʟɪᴇᴠɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴜs. Tᴇʟʟ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ ᴇʟsᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴋɴᴇᴡ ᴍᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ I'ᴠᴇ ғɪɴᴀʟʟʏ ғᴏᴜɴᴅ ғʀᴇᴇᴅᴏᴍ. I ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ғɪɴᴅ sᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ ᴇʟsᴇ ᴛᴏ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴀs ᴍᴜᴄʜ ᴀs I ʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ. Bᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ɪғ ᴡᴇ ғᴏᴜɢʜᴛ, ᴏʀ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅɴ'ᴛ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏʙᴏᴅʏ ᴇʟsᴇ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ sᴛɪʟʟ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴏғ ᴍʏ ʟɪғᴇ. I ᴡɪsʜ I ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜʀs.

Mᴀʏʙᴇ I'ʟʟ sᴇᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ. Fᴏʀ ɴᴏᴡ, ᴛʜɪs ɪs ɢᴏᴏᴅʙʏᴇ. Tᴏ ʏᴏᴜ, ᴛᴏ ᴜs, ᴛᴏ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ.
           

Sɪɴᴄᴇʀᴇʟʏ,
            Rᴏsᴇᴍᴀʀʏ Fᴏʀᴅ

◆          ◆

Rose has been in the bathroom for a concerning amount of time now. I don't know what she's up to, but it's starting to piss me off. I know she tends to take a while, but not two hours?

I knocked on the bathroom door, which was locked. No answer. I knocked again, this time harder. Still, there was silence. Now I was just confused.

I started to bang on the door now, desperate.

"Rose, what the hell are you doing in there? Get out."

I kept pushing on the door, furiously twisting the knob. If I had to bust this door down, I would. I was starting to get more anxious the more time passed without an answer. I slammed my hands against the door, and shouted out one last time.

"Rosemary, are you okay? Please open the door, I'm worried."

Silence. Something wasn't right. I began thinking of ways I could open the door. I found a coin to I use to slide through the door and unlock it. Surprisingly, it worked, but I wish I would have never opened the door.

She was lying still in the bathtub, bleeding profusely from her wrists and up her arms. The amount of blood lost was so much it dyed the bathwater red. Her limp hand was still barely holding a small but sharp razor as her elbow rested on the edge of the tub.  I stood there in total disbelief.

"Babe, this isn't funny..."

I didn't know what to think. Everything in me was hoping that she was pulling a cruel prank on me. I had no other choice but to approach her, even though my body wanted to freeze in its place.

I grabbed the palm of her hand, blood dripping down her fingertips. "Rosy, please, why would you- why? What did I do?-"

I felt my world crumbling into pieces; it wasn't a joke or a cruel prank. She was gone.

I tried to make sense of everything. We were having a great time just last night, why didn't she just talk to me? She talked to me about everything. My heart went numb, and suddenly the answers to my raging questions were answered in one piece of paper lying on the floor.

It was a note from me, except, it wasn't. I didn't write this. It was a letter addressed to her, claiming that I never truly loved her, that I wish we would have just never met, and that's not even the worst part. The last bit of the note wrote:

"You know, I really thought about pushing you off the rooftop tonight. Why else do you think I took you up there? But I didn't. Do me a favor, do everyone a favor, and put yourself out of your misery. Do the job for me. I won't care."

Somebody forged my handwriting to write this, and she must've found it. I was so angry and heartbroken; who would do something like that? I would never say this to anybody, especially not her.. She was special to me, no matter how much she would get mad at me. I wished I could just go back in time to stop her right before she did this, telling her I didn't write this and how much I loved her. This could have been all so prevented, and now I will never have her back.

A note was clipped to the list, a suicide note. Her last words. I read the words she wrote to me in agony. She thought I never loved her all because of this stupid fake note. I never wanted this for her. I knew she wasn't in the greatest headspace, but I didn't think this would be what pushed her over the edge: some ridiculous and sick paper somebody wrote, making me look like an evil woman.

In the midst of it all, I heard the front door opening. Michelle took Cynthia out on a day trip to apologize for lashing out last night, and now they're back. How was I supposed to explain what happened to them?

I heard them approaching the bedroom door, and making their way to the bathroom.

"Lucille?" Michelle called out.

Fuck. My heart was racing, and I couldn't even form the proper words to explain myself as they stepped through the door frame. They both stared at me, eyes widening in horror as they examined my late lover, lying cold in a tub of bloodied water.  I just sat there, sobbing and staring back at them with the same shocked look on my face.

"What did you do? Have you lost your mind?" Michelle exclaimed, pushing Cynthia back.

"Michelle, I can explain, look at this note-"

She stormed into the room, grabbing me by my neck and forcing me off the floor. "How could you do this, Lucille? What, are you going to kill me next? Or Cynthia?"

I wasn't about to let her make assumptions about me. She was the last person that needed to be blaming me for a suicide, calling me a murderer.

With tears welled up in my eyes and anger rushing through my veins, I had had enough.

"Don't you dare try to accuse me for anything, Quinn. Don't forget who the real crazy one here is." I shoved her off of me, causing her to lose her balance.

Cynthia watched in terror, shaking like a leaf. I felt so bad for her, she didn't need to be seeing this. But, that made me think of something- maybe she did need to see this.

Michelle picked herself back up, but she didn't approach me.  Instead, she just stood there laughing. She began to back up, and started making her way towards the dresser nearby.

"Oh, I'm the crazy one? You murdered Rosemary and tried to hide the evidence, I'm not stupid. I see what kind of a person you truly are, Williams"

I was done. I grabbed the razor blade from Rosemary's hand, presenting it to her. It was time for Cynthia to know the truth. I was done keeping her little secret from her innocent daughter. I've obeyed her for too damn long. She dragged me into her twisted plans, trying to use me to cover up her mess, and now, I was tired of being silent.

She saw the weapon in my hand, and reached for the loaded gun I kept in my dresser. She was seriously insane, now I REALLY had no remorse for her.

I shook my head, my hands trembling along with my words as I spoke the long awaited truth.

"Oh, don't you even start with me, you're the last person who should be talking about murdering their lover."

Michelle froze, clenching the gun in her hand and snarling like a rabid dog. Cynthia glanced up at her, the tension slowly building as Michelle refused to look at her.

"Mom, what is she talking about?" She questioned, seriousness in her tone.

"Nothing, Cynthia."

I sneered. "Go ahead, Michy- tell her the truth, who killed daddy?"

Cynthia yanked at Michelle's arm in an attempt to get her to look at her. She trembled, her voice shaking as she pieced together what was happening.

"Mom, did you?...."

Michelle was speechless. Her good girl facade was over. Cynthia knew the truth, and couldn't believe that the woman standing beside her was the culprit all along. She backed away from her, disgusted and mortified.

"Oh my god," She put her mouth over her hand like she was going to be sick, shrieking, "how could you? How could you do this to me?"

Michelle tried to stop her, but it was too late. She had already ran off to her bedroom, slamming the door shut behind her. I felt so much pity for her, I didn't want her to find out like that. But, it was time for her to know. Now, she could stop blaming herself and move on past it. Michelle, however, was furious.

"Great, there goes my only daughter, who will probably hate me from now on as long as she lives. "

"Maybe you deserve to be hated. I'm done playing your stupid games, Michelle. We both lost someone we loved, but the only difference is that I didn't murder mine."

She pointed the gun directly at me. She tried to intimidate me, but I wasn't fazed. A gun doesn't frighten me at this point.

"Go ahead. Pull the trigger. I'd be better off dead."

She doesn't respond. She lowered her arm, dropping it by her side.

"Exactly, you won't do it."

We both stared at each other, unsure of what to do. But, a thought came to my head.

"You know what, Michelle? I hope you have a great life. Go live your life knowing you have nobody left. I won't be a part of it any longer. Goodbye, Michelle."

I ran out of the room and out of the front door, leaving everything and everyone behind. I don't know what I would do or where I would go, but I can't deal with any of it any longer. I'll come back for Cynthia at some point, but I need to process everything. I don't think I'll ever step foot in that apartment ever again, unless it's to retrieve my stuff and take Cynthia with me.

Farewell, I guess.