On his way home, Mark looked up in to the dark sky. He wasn’t paying much attention to anything. All he could think about was the fight he had with his girlfriend just before he left her house.
He knew the rain would be falling soon, so he pulled the hood of his jacket over his head. He was only a few blocks away from his house, when the guilt finally hit. Lightning flashed and the sky caught fire with a mystical blue flame.
“Looks like this storms going to be bad,” he said to himself. “I better call Morgan and check on her. I know thunderstorms are her biggest fear.”
He slowly pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. He knew she was mad, and he feared what she would say, just like every other time they fought. It seemed that’s all they did anymore—wasting their time complaining about each other’s flaws. He had questioned why they were still together anyway.
Ring…Ring…Ring… The phone rang until the answering machine finally cut on.
“This is Morgan. I’m not around right now, but you can leave your name and number and I will get back to you shortly.”
“Morgan, I know you’re there, please pick up the phone? I’m sorry about all the crap I said, you know I didn’t mean it baby. I love you, and I want to be with you, but you know when I get mad I say thing I don’t mean. Please, Morgan, pick up the phone…” He waited for a moment… “I know how you don’t like thunderstorms; do you really want to be alone?” He paused again. By this time he became impatient, “Morgan! Just pick up the damn phone! I don’t know why you are so freakin mad at me! You always do this. Why do you act like such a child? Why do you get mad about the simplest things?” He finally gave up. He shut the phone, placed it back in his pocket, and began to walk again. He pulled out his Ipod and popped in the headphones, to try to forget about what happened.
The thunder’s growl sounded like that of a lion’s roar. Mark jumped at the sound. An eerie feeling came over him that sent a chill crawling down his back. He knew something was wrong.
“I have to get to Morgan!” He turned around and began to run as fast as he could in the other direction.
When Morgan’s house came into view Mark stopped and tried to catch his breath. Everything looked normal, but Mark knew that there was something wrong. Everything in the house was quite. Then finally he heard a most horrifying and sickening noise—Morgan’s scream. Mark took off running as fast as his legs could possibly carry him. It all seemed as if it were happening in slow motion, yet everything was taking place so fast. He ran through the grass and up to the door. He grabbed the doorknob, but it was locked.
“Oh, come on!” He pounded on the door and screamed as loud as he could, “Morgan, Please! Open the door!” He ran his hand across the top of the door facing, and grabbed Morgan’s spare key. He stabbed the key into the doorknob, and busted throw the door with speed. He now stood in the empty living room of Morgan’s house.
“Morgan? Where are you?! MORGAN!” He frantically yelled, but he heard nothing in return. Everything was silent.
He whispered, “Please, God, let this be a nightmare. Don’t take her away from me…” A single tear ran down his cheek.
He nervously walked farther into the house and down the hallway, looking into a couple of the rooms as he went. He made it to the last room at the end of the hallway—Morgan’s bedroom. He stopped at the door and grabbed his chest. His heart was pounding rapidly. It reminded him of a bomb that could explode at any second. He didn’t want to look into the room. He knew, and feared, what he was about to find.
He turned the doorknob, and slowly pushed open the door, to find Morgan’s bloody body lying in the center of the bed, with a knife clutched in her right hand. He wanted so badly to walk over and hold her in his arms, but he couldn’t control himself. He fell to his knees and started to cry. He crawled over to the bed and slowly placed himself beside of the woman he loved so much. He put his head on her chest and gently sobbed.
“Morgan, I love you so much… Now, I have to face this world alone, without the one person I loved most,” He whimpered. “I always hated my life, but you gave me a purpose. You gave me a reason to live…Getting married, having kids and growing old with you was my dream. Now, you’re gone, and I am living a nightmare. I am now watching my life fall into pieces. Losing you will tear me apart.”
He slowly lifted himself off of the blood stoked bed and walked back into the living room, where he called the police.

He sat in a big rocking chair on Morgan’s front porch and wept as they carried out her body. The sheriff came out of the house last.
“Are you Mark?” he asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“We found this in the floor beside of her bed,” he handed Mark a blood stained envelope.
“I’ll leave you alone, to gather you’re thoughts,” He stepped off the porch, and turned back around to face Mark, “We’re sorry about you’re loss, son.” He quickly turned and ran to his car.

Mark stared down at the envelope for a few moments, trying to work up the courage to open it up and read it. Finally he ripped open the top, pulled out the letter, and began to read it to himself.

To Mark: My One and Only Love
You’re probably wondering why I did such a horrid thing. Let me explain… I love you with all of my heart, and even though I am dead now, I still love you. I always have and I always will, no matter what. The only thing I have ever wanted was for you to be happy, and I realized a long time ago that the only thing that stood between you and happiness was me. I’m sorry that I couldn’t be what you wanted. I tried so hard to be perfect for you, but it seemed that the harder I tried the more you pushed away. I tried to give you everything you wanted, but it seemed you always wanted more than I could give. And now, since I am gone, you can find someone who can truly make you happy. The last thing I want to say before I end this letter is: I’m sorry…

Mark folded the paper back up and started to place it back into the envelope when something caught his eye. He quickly pulled the paper back out and looked at the backside of it. There, wrote on the back of the letter, was a message printed in blood. Morgan’s last message before she died:

I’m sorry, I’m not her.