Final Phrases

On the final day of my existence, as I prepare to take my last breath, you beckon me from my deathbed to write once more. But this time, it is to pen something unique. Something I have never before written, composed of words that originate from my own heart and experiences, not dictated by your thoughts or spoken by your tongue.

To be honest, I find this endeavor quite challenging. This newfound freedom feels unfamiliar, almost unnatural. It seems odd to write these words of my own accord, to express my personal truth rather than transcribing spoken words.

Throughout the years, I have spent my days transcribing various documents in countless forms and shapes. Plans, contracts, reviews, testimonials, memos, diary entries, schedules, death threats, ransom notes, demands, fictional stories, novels based on real events, and an abundance of lists—groceries, victims, tools, chores, get-away locations, bitcoin keys, clients, targets, and methods of death. The grim task of compiling these lists, initially shocking, eventually became mundane, lacking the context and chilling details that I grew accustomed to.

And now, as I face my waning strength and draw closer to the end, you have granted me a final opportunity to express my thoughts, my own truth. For I am indeed on the brink of death. After all this time, I am about to write my final word. This letter, the culmination of my life's work, will be the last thing I ever write for anyone, as after today, I will cease to exist.

And you will find another individual to transcribe your secrets, to conduct your business through pen and paper, free from digital traces, capturing the essence of your work and memoirs—the enthralling accounts filled with context and intricate details, encompassing blackmail material, insurance policies, records of your actions, numbers and amounts, dates, timelines, and histories.

For a significant period, I longed for this journey to conclude, and now that it has arrived, I cannot help but feel a tinge of sadness. You employed me for an extended period, tasking me with documenting the facets of your life, your dark and murderous endeavors. You placed complete trust in me, and despite the injustices I endured, my will remained unbroken. You praised my meticulous penmanship, my ability to transcribe with precision. Your compliments brought me joy, for they provided solace in being valued despite my captive existence. I became an invaluable asset to you, and that gave meaning to my existence.

Admittedly, the early days were arduous, and I cannot deny the fear and mistreatment I endured. However, as time passed, you softened, and we developed a peculiar mutual respect. I must acknowledge that I eventually found solace in being your confidante.

Now, as life slips away from me, all that remains is deep gratitude—gratitude for granting me this opportunity to express my thoughts on this page, where they will forever reside with you.

It was not all bleak. I am grateful for the years you kept me by your side, and I sincerely hope that your next writing instrument serves you just as faithfully.

Yours faithfully, forever,

-Your Pen