Jack sighed as he looked at the blank screen of his computer, and he was close to just giving up and pretending that he had never considered the idea in the first place. He had been in a bar a few nights before, drunkenly talking to some old guy in the corner, to whom he had probably given way too much information about himself. The old man had suggested something that could help him, and at first Jack had thought it was just a crazy joke, but here he was trying his best to see if the idea really could work for him.

"Write a letter to her, Jack, one you'll never send and one she'll never read, and pour your heart out onto the paper. Trust me, it'll help"

So here he was, alone in his dark apartment, a glass of whiskey in his hand and a blank screen in front of him. He would write that letter, and see just how right the old man was.

"Dear Nina," he whispered to himself as he wrote, before looking at the screen as if he was mad. Maybe she was dear to him once, but those days were long gone and he rarely wanted to remember them. He deleted the words and thought for a few moments about their replacements.

"Nina, this is Jack," he murmured as he typed the words, and this felt right. Not too personal, not too emotional - there was room for that in the actual letter - and it was simple, just the facts. He took a swig of his whiskey, before continuing with the letter. Eventually, he decided that he had finished, and read his work a few times to really be sure that he was satisfied with his writing, even though nobody else was ever going to read it.

Nina, this is Jack.

An old man was talking to me in a bar recently, and he advised me to write this letter. I'll never send it and you'll never read it, but that doesn't mean I can't write it, does it? I know one day we'll meet again but the contents of this letter won't leave my computer. When, not if, that day comes, you better hope you kill me first because I won't let another chance slip away from me.

There are so many things I wish I could say to you, do to you. So many feelings I wish I could make you experience, and almost none of them are positive.

The very worst thing isn't that you took my wife from me, Nina. No, it's the fact that you stole my daughter's mother from her and destroyed her childhood. You knew Teri was pregnant, knew she was looking forward to having another child, yet you still fired bullet after bullet into her. You not only destroyed my daughter's childhood, you stole a whole lifetime from my future child as well.

YOU KILLED MY WIFE, NINA, AND I WILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU FOR THAT! YOU COULD SUFFER FOR A BILLION YEARS AND I WOULD STILL WANT YOU TO SUFFER FOR LONGER!

I know the anger I feel towards you is unhealthy and maybe this letter will help with that in a very small way, but even if you wanted to, you could never, ever extinguish it within me. Even killing you won't do that, because dying just isn't enough for you to repay me for killing Teri. For ruining my life.

I once loved you, Nina, even though I always knew deep down that I would go back to Teri. I can't deny that sometimes I still see you that way, as someone I loved, but all it ends up doing is making me angrier. Why did I let myself love you at all? I often wonder what would have been different if we had never been together, would you have latched onto someone else? Mason, maybe? When I first discovered my wife's body where YOU LEFT HER TO DIE, NINA, I blamed our relationship. I blamed my weakness in falling for you and I was terrified that my wife had died because I left you. I know you claim it was because she overheard your plans, and I've mostly accepted that, but I can't help but wonder if my leaving you factored into your decision that night. If it had been someone else, would they have lived because they weren't my wife? My Teri?

Do you remember that weekend in Santa Barbara? Even today, I still remember some of it fondly even though doing so leaves a terrible taste in my mouth. You remember when I told you that it was over, that I was going back to Teri, that the weekend was our last time together before things had to go back to normal? You were so upset, Nina, and even now I truly believe you loved me in some way. I know it was mostly just to get closer to me, earn my trust and become my confidante for things I could never, ever tell my wife about, but I will never be convinced that it was only business for you. You loved me, Nina, didn't you? Yet you did one of the worst things to me that you could possibly have done, far worse than even killing me would have been. You killed my wife, you destroyed my family and you can't even imagine what that's done to me.

Sometimes I imagine finding you somewhere in the world, and discovering that you've fallen in love. Maybe you're married and maybe you've even left your bloodthirsty ways behind, but rest assured Nina, if that was the case I would not hesitate to do to you what you've done to me. It would be the very least you deserve.

Until the day we meet again,

Jack

He sat there until his whiskey was finished, reading the letter over and over until it all blurred into an indecipherable mass. Whether or not to delete it, send it into oblivion just like he wanted to do to Nina, was being contemplated. Eventually, he dragged the letter towards the recycling bin and held it over the icon for a few moments, before letting it disappear.