I dropped this into your mailbox as I came into the city for the first time since we last saw each other. I'm sorry I couldn't visit you tonight, but the fact is I'm about to do something that might end up with my death.
I found out a couple months ago that they held Steve alive longer than we'd thought before. There's little doubt in my mind he's dead now, but I intend to find out what happened once and for all or die trying.
Please don't try to look for me, by the time you get this letter, I imagine I will have already gone through with my plan and will either be gone again or in jail or dead. Unfortunately, there's only one way for me to let you know which of those is the case: I have a motorcycle I rebuilt and use regularly. It's tucked away in the alley behind the speakeasy under an old blanket. If it's still there, I'm sorry I didn't get to say good bye, if it's not, I promise I'll see you again.
Peggy, this next part is the most important and I need you to listen to me without question. If that bike is still there, talk to the bar man on duty tomorrow morning from 7am-12pm and he'll help you stash it. In the next 48 hours you'll be approached by a stranger who will tell you that the sun doesn't shine anymore. go with him, he will help you escape. Take the bike and ride as fast as you can to the place he tells you, you'll be safe there and you'll find the supplies you'll need to start your life over wherever you want. All I ask is that you try and find some happiness, you deserve every ounce Peg.
A letter in her mailbox at her apartment dated 08/03
I dropped this into your mailbox as I came into the city for the first time since we last saw each other. I'm sorry I couldn't visit you tonight, but the fact is I'm about to do something that might end up with my death.
I found out a couple months ago that they held Steve alive longer than we'd thought before. There's little doubt in my mind he's dead now, but I intend to find out what happened once and for all or die trying.
Please don't try to look for me, by the time you get this letter, I imagine I will have already gone through with my plan and will either be gone again or in jail or dead. Unfortunately, there's only one way for me to let you know which of those is the case: I have a motorcycle I rebuilt and use regularly. It's tucked away in the alley behind the speakeasy under an old blanket. If it's still there, I'm sorry I didn't get to say good bye, if it's not, I promise I'll see you again.
Peggy, this next part is the most important and I need you to listen to me without question. If that bike is still there, talk to the bar man on duty tomorrow morning from 7am-12pm and he'll help you stash it. In the next 48 hours you'll be approached by a stranger who will tell you that the sun doesn't shine anymore. go with him, he will help you escape. Take the bike and ride as fast as you can to the place he tells you, you'll be safe there and you'll find the supplies you'll need to start your life over wherever you want. All I ask is that you try and find some happiness, you deserve every ounce Peg.
I love you.
I'm sorry.
-B. Barnes