The next day, I stared at the box that sat on my windowsill.

I padded over, and took the lid off of it. I reached in, and grabbed the envelope that said Letter One

I opened the envelope, and gently unfolded the letter.

It read:

If you're familiar with my role in the CW's "Arrow," you most likely know who this first letter is about.

Marc Guggenheim.

The man who screwed me over since day one.

Oh Marc, I'm sure now that I'm dead you're really regretting being an asshole to me, aren't you?

Yeah, I'm not really surprised.

I'm totally not bitter over the fact that you murdered my character for a goddamn ship, and then realized you royally screwed everything up when your ratings started to drop.

Oh, but then you rehire me and when those inappropriate pictures of me got leaked, you allowed everyone to think that I slept with the writers to get my job back.

Thanks for shutting down that rumor, asshole.

What I don't understand though, is why you disliked me so much. I mean, even after you murdered Laurel, when I gave my opinion about you, I was never once disrespectful to you.

But a few months before I died, oh hell yeah. I was totally going to tell everyone that you didn't tell me you were killing off my character until two days before.

I have nothing else to say to you.

I hope my death bites you in the ass.

Screw you, you bag of shit.

Sincerely, Katie.

I knew that he was going to be first. It was the obvious choice.

I felt sick, and I put the letter down, tears falling from my eyes.

I made a pact to myself that everyday I would read another letter.

Hell, I'll even force myself to if I don't want to.

Now all I have to do is wait until tomorrow.