Lilly writes a letter to Ed Martenson (A.K.A) Romeo, in the episode "Stalker" some time after she was shot.
Observe. It was just the three of us in the observation room that day.
One: Kim Jacobi. The only survivor of the shooting of her family. A ruthless and cold murder of her mother, father and brother, and not to mention, she too was shot in the head; a memory that had been repressed and slowly came back to life that night of the one who had taken the lives of her family, and very well could have taken hers. It was clear by that someone that she wasn't meant to live.
Two: Romeo. A.K.A. Ed Marteson. Seemingly harmless you had been when Valens and I had met you that day at the hospital. To us at first, you were just a hospital worker-- who happened to be assigned in the same room Kim Jacobi was recovering in.
Three. Me, Lilly Rush. And my own concerns were to Romeo; Ed Marteson--to keep him away from everyone, even if it meant getting him alone in one room, by himself. I had three co-workers that I saw had chained themselves up to cabinets and to a door with their own handcuffs, of course at the insistence of Ed Marteson. It was figured that at the point of holding onto dear life to Kim Jacobi, the one who he had insanely loved, had been to the point of stalking and killing her family.
Dear Ed, it is not like it seemed to you. She didn't love you, and she never will. She never loved you, like you did to her. And frankly she didn't know you by anything other than Romeo. Then again, she wasn't the one who had written those letters. But you will never know that, because you chose not to believe it. It was her mother that wrote those online messages to you and invited you into their home like a worm in an apple.
But you were never invited, were you? You were never invited to step into their home. Not like you wanted them to be there, anyhow. It was suppose to be just you and Juliet. Not her parents and not her brother. But she told you that she didn't love you. She gave you the look of disgust and told you to go away--and right there, dear Romeo, was when you shot her. Right after you had ruthlessly shot her mother, father and brother.
She was screaming in agony as you did it. But they never meant anything to you, because you thought that you were saving her from them.
So observe.
There were four of them in that room that day. The house that they were trying to build their lives in was shattered, by you. And yet, you just couldn't stay away. You had her now. Now that nobody but you and her were left. Except you had chosen the wrong Juliet. The right Juliet had been lying on the floor along with others in a spite of rage; dead with her own blood pooling on the floor.
I mean, who cares if you almost killed the wrong Juliet, right? She has no memory of what you did--or at least you wouldn't let her. And you took advantage of it because you had gotten what you wanted, and had taken away what you thought had anguished her most. You would make sure that she never remembered that, because she had just you.
You wouldn't let anyone take her. No one could touch her now that she was in your hands. And you were going to make sure when you sat in the back of that room at the office when she was talking to us. You knew that being right there would enable you to keep an eye on things and keep up the plan. And it had almost worked, until you had pulled the gun out of your pocket and raised it in a office full of authority.
To you we had just become another one of your victims, and nothing . . . not even me, would stand in your way. We were trapped in the observation room, away from harm of the helicopters that encircled the building, but you weren't afraid of inflicting more harm than necessary. No, you had shot someone I cared deeply about, and I wasn't about to let you take another.
It took you awhile, but I had talked you down and pulled your Juliet away from you, getting her as far away from you as possible, and then it would have just been you in that room--like had been planned, and then everyone but you would have been safe. Even if you had a gun clutched in your hand, I knew already that Valens was in the other room and would take you down before you had a chance to sacrifice your own life.
What I didn't know is that you would take me down with you. At that, I saw my own life at a stand still--a flash point rather. But you didn't care. Glass shattered as a bullet ran into your body, and I stumbled back at the bullet that had been issued into my chest. I saw you fall face forward, and then I felt myself slump against the wall and slide down it, losing the urge to stand any longer.
You had pointed the gun for the last time, in a scared effort to protect her from being taken away. Your finger was on the trigger, pointed at me. You didn't care who went down that day, just like you didn't care when you took the lives of three out of the four innocent people one evening, and even though you had a bullet in your back; I'm pretty sure that you didn't care that I was just another victim as well. But I won't let you beat me like you did to them.
No, I am writing this to let you know that your Juliet is safe from harm, and well, so am I.