My love, Pietro,
I'm sorry. So, so sorry. I could never apologize enough for making you read this letter.
If you must know one thing, let it be this: none of this is your fault. I left by my own volition. I jumped by my own strength. My love, you have carried enough of me already.
You are not responsible for what I did. Don't let anyone — not even yourself — tell you otherwise.
By now you have questions.I know you do. Why? How could I not see it? Why didn't you say anything?
Let me try to answer them.
Why did I choose to die?
Because I am tired. Burnt down to my last flicker.
I have been tired for a long time. Years before I met you I was in psychotherapy, on Mirtazapine, learning how to survive my own mind.
And then I met you.
It was like seeing the sun for the first time. Bright. Warm. Almost painful in its intensity. You overwhelmed me. You charmed me. You swept me off my feet and electrified my brain. You woke something in me — a yearning to love and be loved. You set my heart on fire.
Do you remember that Christmas four years ago when you met my father? The way you laughed at my brothers' terrible jokes. The way you bonded over football. When my father asked your intentions for me after dinner, do you remember what you said?
Because I do.
You said, "Mr. Ross, I promise I have the best of intentions for your daughter. I promise to love her with all my heart and protect her from anyone who would hurt her."
You kept your promise.
You loved me.
No one hurt me for two years except you.
How could they? You were everywhere. In my home. In my phone. At my work. You made me an island, and you were the only port. Who could I speak to without you listening? Where could I go without you following?
I just hope you didn't follow me into death. Otherwise I really would have nowhere left to run.
Did you know, my love, that your love is like a barbed chain coated in warfarin? It wraps tight. It makes you bleed slowly. It makes sure the wound never clots.
You'll ask how you didn't see it.
Because I am an actor.
I hid my depression for thirteen years. Only my aunt knew, and she took my secrets to the grave. I hope I see her again.
Did you know I have been pregnant five times but only gave birth once?
I was seventeen when I had my first child. A beautiful baby boy. I gave him up. I hope he grows into someone nothing like me or his father. I hope he is like my aunt. Or my own father.
Love, can I tell you a secret?
You killed four of your children.
For all the times you said you wanted to be a father.
You killed our first with a kick to my stomach. I was two months pregnant.
You killed the second when you tried to drown me. You accused me of cheating with my boss because he gave me an umbrella. That night I cooked dinner with a fever while I was actively miscarrying.
Did you notice the blood running down my leg? Or are you too used to seeing me bleed?
I tried. I tried so hard to protect the twins. I became the perfect marionette. I did everything you wanted.
Why?
Why did you go drinking?
Why did I become your punching bag? Wasn't I already broken enough?
Did you have to push me down the stairs?
Did you have to kill our twins? I was only three months along. I wasn't even showing yet.
I had planned to run away the following week. Before I started showing. I had everything ready.
Maybe you never saw this coming. Not because I am an actor.
But because you never saw me.
All yours, with all my heart,Jinny