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Dear Mr. Black,
I know you were hurting. I heard your cries. I wished over and over again that I could make it better, but as you stated I was too inexperienced; too good for someone as bad as you.
Perhaps you were right, but it didn't matter because what I did know was that I loved the way you felt--loved the way you smelled. I loved how hard you got for me, and when you called me your Little Knight.
I can still remember that day in the park, when you held me close and kissed me deep. How you effortlessly made me cry your name on top of sweet smelling grass, making me feel like the only girl in the world. I loved how you looked at me, how you spoke to me.
I had been madly in love with you ever since I was twelve years old, but I shouldn't have been.
Isabelle would have hated it--my best friend. I couldn't afford to lose her. Besides, you two had already lost enough. Losing Mrs. Black was the epitome.