Well, my oh my, isn't this a sorry sight? You're probably questioning why this all turned out this way, what was even the point? I mean, I don't know everything, but one thing I do know is this: not all stories have happy endings.

Did I ever finish mine, in full? I don't believe I did. Here's the part of the story I didn't tell: I did kill her, the priest's daughter. No one ever gave me that kind of love or attention as a child, and I was envious of the life she was given. Plus, the presbytera was a wicked woman, but no one knew except for me. She deserved what was coming, and that's the real tale. I have my ways of twisting the stories that I tell, changing the narrative. I despised everyone and everything in that awful crooked town, why do you think I burnt it down? I like to make people think I was falsely accused, the truth is, I would've killed her again and again if I could. Now that I think about it, I did.

I remember the day I murdered Angela like it was yesterday, I suppose you could say I did it for the same reasons. Well, this all seems familiar.

I must say I feel a little bit sorry. Not for Michelle, or Lucille, but for Cynthia. I would hate for my death to be caused because of my own mother's insanity, but life isn't fair. Maybe Michelle should have been more careful if she really cared enough about the ones around her. But it appears she's taken matters into her own hands, and now there's no one left here but me. Poor, poor Cynthia; some goals in life just never get accomplished, or in her case, some are simply unattainable. She'll never get justice for her father's murder, and she died believing her mother wanted to kill her as well. Don't worry, I was watching everything. It's truly pitiful.

Not all stories have happy endings, and this one sure didn't. There's only one thing missing that separates this tale from my last. I guess I'll have to erase the evidence somehow. So, I set it all ablaze. The old ragged apartment once filled with life is now engulfed in flames, burning all of the memories down with it.

Now, as for me, my stories always go as I wish. Mine have happy endings. I'll write this one down in the books next to my previous one, and tell it to whoever comes next- with a few tweaks, of course. The story of a teen girl destined to find the truth, whose life was cut short by the one keeping it from her. Where will I fall? That's for me to know.

So long and good riddance, crooks.