And Then There Were Fewer

30. A Letter

From my earliest youth I realized that my nature was a mass of contradictions. I had the most amazing friends.  We all started at school, I didn't know anyone of them more than my grilfriend at the time Quinn Fabray and My best friend Noah Puckerman.. As the years progress my love for all of them grew minor and I started to hate each of one of them so  I will be– writing my confession, putting it on the mail. There is, I suppose a hundred to one chance that my confession will be found – and then (or do I flatter myself?) a hitherto unsolved mystery will be explained.

Crime and its punishment has always fascinated. I enjoy reading every kind of detective story or thriller. I have devised for my own private amusement the most ingenious ways of carrying out a murder.

I got in a problem with Mr. Schue and days later they found him hanged in his house. They said it was me, but I didn't grew hate on Mr. Schue.. he was a great professor and a great friend. Yes He was suffering from great Stress (I think that's what it called). From his wife Mrs. Schuester. She is a pain in the ass, as Mr. Schue said one time. 

I will say here that such as the case with Mr. Schuester.

I have a reputation as a professional Football Player, but that is unfair. I have always been strictly just and scrupulous in my summing up of a case.

For some years past I have been aware of a change within myself, a lessening of control – a desire to act. 

I have wanted to commit a murder myself. I recognized this as the desire of the artist to express himself! I was, or could be, an artist in crime! My imagination, sternly checked by the exigencies of my profession, waxed secretly to colossal force.

I must – I must – I must commit a murder! And what is more, it must be no ordinary murder! It must be a fantastical crime – something stupendous – out of the common! In that one respect, I have still, I think, an adolescent's imagination.

I wanted something theatrical, impossible!

I wanted to kill... yes, I wanted to kill...

But – incongruous as it may seem to some – I was restrained and hampered by my innate sense of justice. The innocent must not suffer.

And then, quite suddenly, the idea came to me – started by a chance remark uttered during casual conversation with a dude.

I knew about that guy Sebastian, and that my brother Kurt and his husband were passing a lot of time with him, he had problems and my Stupid brother offer his services to help him, he then told Blaine and them both went to help him.

That was the beginning of the whole thing. I suddenly saw my way clear. And I determined to commit not one murder, but murder on a grand scale.

I research a childish rhyme of my infancy – the rhyme of the fourteen little soldier boys. It had fascinated me as a child of two – the inexorable diminishment – the sense of inevitability.

I began, secretly, to collect victims...

I will not take up space here by going into detail of how this was accomplished. I had a certain routine line of conversation which I employed with nearly everyone – and the results I got were really surprising. During a time of rehearsal I came and talk about Artie – He then told me that he had commited a crime and that no one knew except me and him.. He had killed Jacob Isreal the guy that was always running about in the school.