A final letter

[Hunk]

I write in the fourth office on the second floor of the City's Administration complex.
Here I put myself to trial, judged only by my own sorry soul.

All my life, I have lived a facade; my false profession and my false authority. My rotting ethic.
I have taken things that were not mine.
I have sent others into paths no one should ever cross.
And I have benefited from all of that.


They are now coming and I will be next.
I know things they don't want me to know.
I am no longer of use to them.
I will die but they won't take me first.

I only pity those who come next to me.
They don't know what's coming for them.

There is no facade in these guys' lives.
All the blood their hands carry is real.
They will rot in hell because they chose to.

My name is Vincent Lourrent






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