Dear Wilson,
I've accepted that Amber will never go away. She can disappear for an hour, a day, or a week. But she always comes back, smiling her mischievous smile, reminding me of what I've done. Through her eyes, I can see the night of the accident. I can smell the humid air in the bus. I can see the scared expression frozen on her face the moment before the crash. I can feel the sticky blood between my fingers and under my nails, something impossible to clean no matter how many times I wash my hands. I thought the pain would lessen as time passes, but the guilt only piles on higher.
I killed her. If losing my mind is the punishment, then it's a punishment I deserve. We all carry burdens invisible to the eye; Amber is just one of mine.
Nolan thought medication could fix it, but I knew that Amber exists outside of biochemistry. She is the embodiment of my guilt, so as long as I'm alive, she will always be there. Getting rid of her will be no different than getting rid of my bones and flesh.
However, accepting that she will always be there doesn't make it any easier. She cries, yells, screams. She hurts herself, then tries to hurt me in all ways imaginable. She does anything that makes me look at her and pay for my crime. Sometimes it seems like I only live through her eyes. My life is entirely dependent on hers. My life – medicine, hospital, even Vicodins – pales in comparison to the horror she brings. My life is in black and white while she only operates in crimson.
-H