To My Dearest Mother,
It is my sad sorry word to say, but your youngest son has fallen in battle. As terrible as that may sound, hold your breath beacuse these next few words will rip your heart out. He died at my hand.
Now as you try to recover and catch your breath from the shocking words which have jumped off the page and won to the pit of your stomach, a feeling which I will never be rid of, I will try to explain to the best of my abilities the situation of your son's passing.
As you are aware, I am a Repulican Sniper, but what I was not aware of was that my own flesh and blood was aswell, except on the opposing side. It was late, dark, and all you could see was the faint moonlight on the rooftops of Dublin. I had noticed an elderly woman who happened to be an informer, so being the man that I am, I served my country, and took her out. While I was doing this I was spotted by the enemy. BANG! Now myself being shot in the arm, bleeding furiously, I had to think quickly, faking my own death making it seem like I was down for the call. Then as I waited for the enemy to put down his guard, I shot him and watched him fall to the ground. Now myself, also being the proud man you raised me to be, I had to know who this mysterious sniper was. So I took the risk and wandered over to his lifeless body, expecting to look my enemy dead in the eye. I turned over his blood soaked corpse and saw the face of an angel. At that precise moment I knew who this "quick shot" was, he was one of my own, not of my fleet, but of my blood, my family, my life. I will never be able to rid my mind of the sight of his cigarette white face lying still on the ground. Although I'm filled with remorse for what I did, it was my only defense, it was either him or I, I know nothing will excuse my actions but this guilt feels like I have been condemned to Satan himself, tortured for eternity. It's like an animal gnawing at my insides out. This insomnia is driving me to the point of insanity and I...