Hello, Jack.
I'm sure you're surprised to hear from me, because I'm assuming that if you're reading this, I'm dead. Maybe you killed me. Maybe someone else did. Maybe I even killed myself. But the outcome seems to be the same, and that's why I'm writing this.
I'm writing this three weeks after Visalia, which I'm sure you remember, even if you're reading this 50 years from now on your own deathbed. I'm still getting used to this newfound freedom- if you can call it that. I really should have been more specific regarding my pardon. Having everything monitored and having my every move tracked is not exactly considered constitutional. Guess I blew all of my rights when I became a traitor.
Regarding that. I suppose that that is the entire purpose of this rather morbid letter. I know that you're wondering what happened, why I turned. And I really have no desire to answer you, but I feel like I at least owe that much to you. Not because you've ever done anything for me, but because I've taken away something from you, and I should probably give you something in return. Answers won't bring Teri back, but you'll understand. And I know you'll need that much before you can move on.
Why don't I just tell you? Because you won't move on while I'm alive. It's that simple. 'Cause let's face it, Jack, you're pretty focused on me right now. Maybe you'll manage to push me to the back of your mind for awhile, but I'm still there. I know you better than anyone. Better than your daughter, better than Teri. I know you because I understand you. Because I've seen the things you've seen. Because I've done the things you've done. That's why you need me alive. That's also why you need to kill me.
I'm not making any sense to you, am I? That's okay. You'll understand eventually. You and me, we're alike. That's how I know you so well. When we were going out, you told me that you felt like I could read your mind. I can't. I just think the same way you do. And that's how I know that you won't be able to move on till I'm dead. You're like a drug, Jack, and sometimes you're all that keeps me living. And that's how I know that I'm the same for you.
You don't believe me. I can see you now, reading this, looking at my words in disbelief, shock, and anger. You can be very good at hiding your emotions, Jack, I'll give you that. But I've always been able to see right through you.
Are you waiting for the answers that I've promised you, Jack? Be patient. I'm getting to them. But now that I'm writing, it seems like there are so many things to say, and I need to get them all out. I need you to know, to understand, what's made me who I am. Even more, I need you to understand WHO I am.
You thought you knew me pretty well when we were working together. Truth is, you did. You knew me better than anyone. Because it wasn't a lie. Not all of it. Sometimes I wished that I could be the person that I was pretending to be. Sometimes I wished that I could take it all back, everything, and start over. But somewhere along the line, I had to accept that I couldn't. Still, when I was with you, I tried to hang on to the hope that it was possible.
You know, I loved you once, Jack. Maybe I still do. But this past year has taught me to block everything out, love, hate, pain, anger, and sadness alike. Now I don't feel anything. I know that you think of me as soulless, but I'm not. I just don't know how to get in touch with anything, or anyone.
So where was I? Oh, yeah. Why I turned. Honestly? I don't know. I know that it's not what you're looking for. But it's what I can give you. You said something to me that day in Visalia: "You don't have a cause, you don't believe in anything." You're right. Because what can I believe him? Ultimately, no one and nothing. I learned that the hard way.
My dad was a terrorist. He hid it from me for thirteen years. I loved him with everything that I had. I thought he was the most amazing person alive- he treated me and my twin sister like princesses, spoiled us rotten. He was at every dance recital that I danced in, every art show that my sister was in, and he usually threw the after party. He and my mom had a fairy tale marriage, and I wanted nothing more but to meet someone and fall in love like they had.
Then my sister and I found out about him. With the blink of an eye, it was over. He killed her, and I barely managed to escape. For three years I hid, waiting until I received word that he was captured. When he was, I was a changed person.
Sometimes today I look around, and I know that I'm everything he was, everything that I once despised. Still despise. But I have to live. That's the one thing that I have left, and I'm not willing to give it up. I don't know what I'm hanging on to, but I'm hanging on, and I have no plans to let go.
Every so often I wonder what it would be like to let go. To fall forever, free of the suffocation from the lies and the hate and the deception that has turned into my life. Do you wonder, too? But I know that neither of us will ever let go. We'll go down kicking and screaming, reaching desperately to the one last thing that we have.
When I was 20, I visited him in prison. It had been 7 years since he killed my sister, and 4 years since he had been captured. I had changed- he didn't recognize me at first. But when he did, his only reaction was to sneer at me. I cried, and tried so hard to find a trace of the man I had thought was my father. But it wasn't there.
I'm not that good, Jack. I'm still here. I'm hiding under layers of pain, and hurt, and anger. And sometimes I just want to scream out to someone to help me, to save me. But it's too late. It was too late a long time ago.
Working at CTU was my last attempt to save myself. I wasn't working for anyone yet. But I had become a mere shell of myself, and knew that as soon as I let go of the last thing I had left- hope- I would be gone. And inevitably, it became too much for me to carry. After 4 years at CTU, I couldn't hold onto it anymore.
At first it was exciting, liberating. For the first time since I was 13, I was free of any restrictions and burdens. But soon the thrill wore off, and I was tempted to turn back. Of course, I couldn't. There's no turning back with these people.
Jack, when we were together, that was me. The real me. Sometimes I wanted to tell you, to get out of it, but I knew that I couldn't. Because we would both be dead. And eventually, I managed to convince myself that what I was doing was no worse than what CTU was doing, what the 'good guys' were doing. I still tell myself that. I have to.
After we split up, I went and saw my dad again. It was the first time in 15 years. He was unrecognizable. Insane. And it shook me. I didn't want to end up like that. But when he saw me, he looked at me with such hatred in his eyes that I knew I wasn't capable of ending up like that. I couldn't hold that much hatred in me.
I'm not saying any of this to make you pity me. I don't deserve it. I don't want it. I just need you to know what happened, what shaped me, what turned me into who I am. And reading back, I realize that there are no answers here. Just explanations. Not justifications, I couldn't justify. All I can do is tell you what made me.
When I sat down to write this, I had it all planned out. I had your answers. They seem foreign to me now, fake and made up. I don't have any answers, Jack.
I'm sorry. That's all that I can give you.
6 months ago, I received word that my dad had died. Committed suicide, after many attempts. I considered taking the same route, but I knew that I couldn't. I'm still hanging on.
I'm still hanging on, Jack, and I'm going to do what it takes to stay on. I'm beyond saving now, and I need to roll with it. I'm sorry, but I'm not as strong as you. I don't see any other way.
Maybe one day you will understand. I'm starting to. I hope that one day you can remember me with something other than hatred. 'Cause when I think of you? That's the only time I ever feel anything. I just don't know what it is I feel. I think it's love, but I'm not sure.
So this is what I'm leaving you with, my one legacy. Maybe we'll meet again before you read this. Maybe you'll die before you get to read this. Maybe you'll take one look at the name and rip it up. Or maybe you'll read it and laugh. I just hope that whatever happens, you find your peace.
Goodbye, Jack.
Nina