To move forward in life, you have to make sacrifices . That's how we leave one road to walk another. My road has ended. After my family's death, I have no more sacrifices to make, all that's left is my memories of them. And these letters I'm sending to my father, is going to be the only things that the old me will leave behind. Ugh, why did my plans for the rest of my horrible life have to be ruined? Now I have more than letters to write, The murder of my family is in my hands whether I want it or not.