Epilogue

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Three weeks ago a girl sent me these letters. I still don't know her name. I don't know what she looks like.

Three weeks ago a girl of my school went missing. Maybe she is the one; maybe it's just a coincidence.

Her name is Lianne. She is in my maths class, I think in arts to and maybe in biology, but I'm not sure about the last one. I observed her a few times, thought about how cute she is. If she is the one who sent me this letters, how could she never see?

"Today some tourists found the dead body of a young girl at a coast near the Cliffs of Moher. Her appearance fits the description of the missing girl. We try to find out who she is and how she died. Witnesses or relatives are asked to call the proper authority to bring the investigation forward."

I listen closely to the news and at the moment they mention the Cliffs of Moher I know it is her. The girl who sent me these letters is Lianne Corey. She is dead now, killed herself because I never answered her letters, I never found out who she was until now. She knew it, she knew I'd find out after her death and she was right.

I fucking killed her. I fucking killed a girl. And right now I feel like I have to answer her. So I sit down and write my letter:

Hey Lianne,

I know, it took me a hundred years to figure it out, but I finally know out who you are. I know, it took me too long. I know, now you're dead because of me. And I'm sorry for that. I never wanted to hurt you, you or anyone else.

I actually looked at you too; I looked at you and thought how cute you were. Yeah, I think you're cute. I had no idea how to tell you, how to talk to you, so I didn't. I really am sorry, but it's too late.

Love,
the Boy...

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