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February 18, 2013
Dear Sam,
I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I’m leaving. I’ve left. I don’t know where I’m going, but know that I’m okay. And I’ve changed. Someone you know would call this running away, and I guess it sort of is. But, I am not running away from something, I am running to find something. Someone. With all this, I can never look back, and you can’t look for me either. It’s safer this way. You thought they came for you, but they were looking for me. I’m sorry that I had to come, ruin your life, then leave and tell you to pick up the pieces that I managed to not destroy. Most of all, I wish that not come here in the first place. It almost makes me sad to leave. I don’t want to keep you in constant danger. I am on a mission, and it could take a day, a week, a year. Or I could be dead before I take those first steps. You deserve a normal life, and I you couldn’t have that whenever I was there. I have to find them.I have to know. I have to know what they did to them. Dear God, I hope they’re not dead. She told me they were alive, but then again, she’s lied before. Why can’t you accept that she’s one of the bad ones. I know that time is short, and so is life, so please don’t blame yourself for this. The reason I left is because I couldn’t stand myself. Tell everyone I loved them. They think I’m dead. They’re the ones that planned it, too. Give no indication that I contacted you. And don’t contact me. I like disappearing. Burn this letter. Don’t let them find it.

Your Friend,

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