death

Dear diary,

Words cannot express my feelings right now. I am heartbroken, my heart has been torn into a million pieces.

The light of my life, my little sunshine... she is gone.... Little Faeli is no longer with us.

How quickly the years pass... I can still vividly recall the first day I returned in Pelargir, after having extracted my vengeance upon Black Tide. That was five years ago. Tonight, I became twenty three summers old. So many things have happened, so many situations have come to pass... How can I still remember them all, while all this time trying so hard to forget? Why am I unable to forget the things that have happened, the things that I have made to happen? My past, stuck on me, like a leech on a healthy man's flesh...

Finally... My body ceased to ache. All the tortures you inflicted upon me, now seem as little more than distant memories, a fading dream. And should my scars not be there to remind me of them, maybe I could have forgotten. But what shall never be forgotten is your treachery. Your betrayal. Your poisonous lies. All of them, I keep them close to me, in the centre of my thoughts, never fading away, never allowing me a moment's rest. And my fuel... The constant, ceaseless thought of vengeance. Soon... Love will lie dying.

And so did her plans unveil, and her betrayal was made clear to me, in the most brutal, horrid way... She set me up. Helena, the one person I made the mistake to place my trust in, the queen of poisons, this monster of a woman, has managed to spin a web around me, while all the time feeding me with lies, with false promises, clouding both my vision and my judgement... Just like she has done to so many others before me... She guided my hand in slaying a kin, when there was no kin to be slayed.

A year has passed since I came back to Pelargir. Much has happened in this time... Looking back to my actions now, I have come to one conclusion only. I have become a monster. I am responsible for the deaths of so many people... Yet what is even more monstrous is that I can still sleep at nights, knowing what I have done, and I feel no regrets. Why? Why is it that killing comes so easily to me? Why is the thought of having the life of another in my hands, me being the only one to decide if he is to live or die, so intoxicating? In my mind, this is a game.

There are countless stains on the page where ink has smudged, possibly from tears. The writing seems hurried and clumsy.

This cannot be! It cannot! I received a letter that I have dreaded receiving ever since he left for Mirkwood. My beloved, beautiful, wonderful husband. He is no more... To even write these words, I feel pain within my heart. I never, ever thought I would see the day where I would have to deal with his death. Never. Please say it is not so!