Poem that comes out of never-ending tears. I'm so sorry.
Baby, please don't apologize. It's not your fault. I love you so much.
I feel like it is. Jesus, Ellie, I feel like I killed a girl. Oh shit, the criminologist just became the criminal. Shit.
Check your e-mail, sweetheart.
I can't, right now. Dad's stupid fucking filter. Gimme a minute.
Just reset the Internet. This should work, if it doesn't, shit is gonna go down.
Sweets, Liz is alive, ok?
I know, I just feel like I was the force behind her attempt and oh god, it's the worst feeling ever. It's worse than washing down pills with warm beer.
Would Facebook work?
I honestly have no idea how things work.
No, I think he blocked that too. Goddammit. I'm just trying to get it to work now. Else, I'm going to completely go all out and do crazy shit to the laptop.
It's not your fault, ok?
I know. It feels like it though and it hurts so bad.
You didn't cause anything. Someone was bound to find out, anyway. Honestly, you didn't do anything wrong. You just found out and wanted answers.
That makes me feel a little better. I'm just wondering, are there any Pringles in this godforsaken house?
Do you wanna email me? Or Twitter or something?
I'm trying to fix my Internet so I can do that.
Like the chips?
Yeah. I just woke up and I'm hungry.
Call the local Pringle finder.
Or just raid the kitchen.
... There.. are... no... Pringles......
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