A/N. Don't mind me, I just have a lot of catching up to do, since I wasn't publishing on this website anymore. I hope you are still following this story, though!

Theodore,

I have tried to escape reality, to move away from the deluded fantasy I had been holding dear – that you have to remember me. The truth is, I had to take a decision, and now everything is finally over. I have finally crossed the line.

Two weeks ago, I found myself sending a letter to the Laytons. I was brave enough to ask them about everything I was keeping inside me.

The questions raced through my mind as soon as I was holding the pen in my hand. "Where should I begin?" I asked myself. I was so excited to finally overcome my hesitations, after all these years, but at the same time, my whole body was trembling. "What if they refuse to answer me?" "What if they abandoned Theo?" "What if Targent found them as well?"

What if…

It wouldn't stop. For the first time in nearly three months, I felt pain. This awful, outrageous pain. It was obvious, after all! I was about to get in touch with the people who have been raising you for four years. They were the ones to see you growing, changing, rebuilding your life. They were witnessing everything in my place, in our parents' place.

I didn't know how to address them. I couldn't help but feel an inch of hatred towards them. "Should I be honest, and tell them how much I've come to loathe them?" I wondered for several minutes. In the end, I decided to be concise. As soon as I had written the first words onto the paper, the sentences flowed before my eyes. It was as though the pen was moving on its own, driven by a higher force.

This force was that of my doubts, my hopes, my fears, my hatred, even, and my sadness. Suddenly, I was releasing four years of suffering, projecting them onto somebody who would understand. That was the reason why I began writing the Laytons a letter in the first place. I entrusted them with my darkest thoughts, despite the distrust I felt. After all, maybe I didn't hate them that much. They saved your life, didn't they?

Maybe they have already told you about my letter. Either way, many questions followed one another.

Does Theodore still remember me? Is he doing well?

Could you send a picture of him?

Does he enjoy his life in London?

Why did you take only one child?

I had to fight against myself to stop asking one question after another. I would get my answers on time. I just couldn't resist the envy to listing each doubt that came flowing through my head at that moment.

There were just two questions I couldn't bring myself to ask your adoptive parents. "Can we meet in person?" "Will I be able to see my little brother again?"

I was not ready – and surely, neither would you.

Now, there's only one thing left for me: I shall wait for their reply. In the meantime, I'll keep on adjusting to this new life. Having written this letter lightened my burden considerably. My life with Leonora and Richard Sycamore is even better than anything I had expected.

Desmond/Hershel