The Last Testament

I know nobody is going to believe this. They'll all say I'm just out of my mind, driven to the brink by grief and guilt. But it's real. It's happening, and I can't take it anymore. By the time you read this, I'll be gone. I'm writing this as my final testament, a desperate plea for someone to understand what she did to me. What she's still doing.Emily and I broke up a year ago. I thought that was the end of it. She was jealous, obsessive, and manipulative. Her toxic behavior had suffocated me to the point where I felt like I was drowning. She monitored my every move, isolated me from my friends, and turned every interaction into an interrogation. I couldn't breathe without her questioning my loyalty and my love. Eventually, I had enough and ended it. I thought I'd find freedom, but I found something much worse.Two months after we broke up, Emily killed herself. At first, I was devastated. I felt like it was my fault, like I pushed her over the edge. Believe me, I knew my thoughts were irrational, that I shouldn't fault myself for a woman who had long been mentally unwell. But I couldn't help myself. Emily had always been great at making me feel like shit even when I did nothing wrong. I guess old habits die hard. I eventually started to notice strange things happening. Little things at first. My belongings moved around, pictures of us appearing out of nowhere, her perfume lingering in the air. I chalked it up to my mind playing tricks on me, the remnants of our past haunting me.Then the letters started coming. At first, I thought they were sick jokes, maybe from some cruel person who knew about Emily and me. But the handwriting... it was hers. Perfectly identical. Every loop and curve of her letters, every little flourish, was exactly the same. I'd seen her write countless times, and there was no mistaking it. It was Emily. But how? She was dead.I showed the letters to friends, to the police. They all said the same thing. "It's just your mind playing tricks on you, man. You're grieving. You're guilty." They told me I needed therapy, medication, anything to help me cope. They didn't understand. They couldn't. Emily, that insane woman, had somehow found a way to continue tormenting me beyond the grave. I knew i was right could feel it in the depth of my soul. As weeks passed, the letters became more frequent, more intimate. They detailed things only Emily could know. Private moments, secret thoughts, things I never shared with anyone. She was watching me, even now. I felt her presence everywhere. I started seeing her in the shadows, in reflections, in the corners of my vision. I heard her voice, whispering in my ear, taunting me, blaming me for her death.My life began to unravel. Emily's ghost, or whatever she was, destroyed everything. She sabotaged my work, sending compromising emails from my account. She drove a wedge between me and my friends, spreading lies and rumors that made them doubt me, hate me. I lost my job, my friends, my sanity. No one believed me. They all thought I was going mad, a guilty man consumed by his own conscience.But I know the truth. Emily is still here. She's punishing me, and she won't stop until I'm utterly broken. I can't sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I see her. Her lifeless eyes staring at me, her lips twisted in a cruel smile. I wake up to find messages scrawled on the walls, in her handwriting, mocking me, reminding me of my failures. "You did this to me," they say. "You can't escape me."I've tried everything to make it stop. I've moved houses, changed my number, deleted my social media. But she always finds me. Always. The final straw was when I found her journal, the one she kept during our relationship. It was filled with her plans, her fantasies of revenge. It was like a roadmap of my current torment. She had planned this all along. Even in death, she was orchestrating my downfall.I've lost count of the nights I've spent staring into the darkness, too terrified to sleep, too exhausted to stay awake. I've reached out for help, but everyone turns away, convinced I'm just a broken man clutching at shadows. They don't see what I see. They don't hear what I hear. They don't feel the cold fingers wrapping around my throat, the relentless pressure that drives me to the brink of madness.I'm writing this now because I have no other way out. I can't keep living like this, trapped in a nightmare with no escape. Emily has won. She's taken everything from me, and now, she's taking my sanity. I see no other way to end this torment. By the time you find this, I'll be free. Maybe then, someone will believe me. Maybe then, someone will understand that Emily's madness didn't end with her death. It only began.If you're reading this, please know that I didn't make this decision lightly. I've fought had, I've tried to survive, but I can't do this anymore. You can call me weak if you'd like, but I simply cant keep living like this anymore. At this point she's already taken everything, so she might as well have my life too. I hope, in death, I find the peace she denied me in life. I pray she doesn't follow me there. But even now, as I write these final words, I can feel her watching, waiting.Goodbye. And may you never know the torment I've endured. May you never meet someone like Emily. And if you do, run. Run and don't look back.