"Brother, if you are reading this, then I have failed. Know that for fifty years I have tried to undo what was done that fateful day. I have tried my very best to be patient. To have faith that we would be reunited. To live the life that would see us together again. I am weak. Momma. Momma saw it. It gnawed at the both of us left here without you. She ached at the punishment that you were so wrongly sentenced. It was unfair. Unjust. It ate at her body. And my soul. You must have been so much better than us to be reading this. To have had more faith that we would be together as a family again. You sacrificed to protect us. I couldn't take that chance. She loved you. Loved me. Please take some solace that it was her choice. A hope that the scales would somehow balance. She knew the cancer would take her before you returned. Knew that we would never be whole. It was her faith that you would come back to us. To me, alone. But I am weak without either of you. In the end I think it was her gift to me. A death for a chance at life again.

I love you always, lil' sis."

The letter lay cold and still on the table. I couldn't understand. It was impossible. Unreal. Fifty years. To be back here again, in this house. Again with death separating us. I strove so hard. For fifty years, being the very best. Striving to make up for that choice to protect them from his rage that day. I knew the risk. I knew the consequences. I couldn't allow you to be hurt anymore. That hate. Hate that he could harm you both. Hate that he could reject the love of his family. To strike with tongue and fist. Fifty years to let go of that fury that drove me to kill him. I want to do it again. To strike him down before he could tear our family apart. No. Come back to me. Momma. Sister. I've been so alone.