Dear nobody,

                Something big has happened. Something I cannot comprehend. I do not know what to think. I’m not sure what to feel.

                Perhaps I feel empty.

                No, I am empty.

…

                I had been sitting in my room this morning. I was finally allowed out to see Seokjin, but I had refused. I was not ready to face him after all my thoughts. I had decided that perhaps I would write to pass the time as there was nothing else much to do. It was peaceful and quiet until I heard a loud ramming against my door.

                “Open the door!” Mr. Jackson’s voice was urgent.

                I jumped up to follow his instructions, heart beating wildly that I could see him again. The sight I was faced with was not at all what I expected.

                He rushed in, his hair more disheveled than ever. He grabbed a mask off the shelf and put it over his face while bringing out a hat to cover the rest of his head. He had a long gash on his cheeks with which he placed another mask over it to try and stop the blood flow.

                “You’re bleeding, Mr. Jackson!” I cried out, trying to get him to calm down.

                He pushed me aside and ran straight to the desk. With a loud groan, he pulled it towards the centre of the room, right under the window above.

                “I drugged them. I finally did it while they aren’t looking,” he was frantic, “Bring that chair over here, kid. Do it quickly. Do it now.”

                I did not know how to react to his strange actions so I followed what he was telling me to do. I brought the chair over but held on to it, floundering while waiting for his next words.

                “Give the ing chair to me,” he yanked it out of my hands. He placed it onto the table and then climbed onto the desk. He placed one foot on the chair but it wobbled in its instability.

                “ing painkillers, you said. ing painkillers. They are not painkillers just some stupid antidepressants or some . I thought it would knock them out but turns out the dumb er outside my room was just asleep. They’ll be here any minute. I’ve got to get out before they do,” he was still yelling.

                “Mr. Jackson, I don’t understand what’s going on.” I stare up at him. He is still trying to get onto the chair but it was all just wobbling too much.

                “Do something useful, why don’t you? Hold the chair!” he demanded. I complied. He got on with my new support and his head stuck up close to the window above. He was only but a few inches away from it. He punched it with his fist. It didn’t budge. He was trying to get out.

                I could hear the shouts of angry people coming closer and closer to my room.

                “!” he swore again, his fist now bleeding from the consecutive punches. He glared down at me. “Don’t you dare let go, kid, or I will come back and murder you as well.”

                I knew he was doing something bad. I could hear the shouts even closer now. I was the only person who could stop him before he did something wrong. He wasn’t a bad man, but he was making a wrong decision.

                “I found out your name. It’s Mr. Jackson. You’ll rethink about leaving now won’t you?” I looked up as he had stopped punching the window. From his jacket, he produced a giant hammer. I had no idea how that got into his possession.

                “Congratu-ing-lations,” he said sarcastically. He looked down one last time at me, “But I’m leaving. Now. So hold the chair even if glass gets in your eyes and your face. I deserve that much for putting up with you all this time, you dumb .”

                He smashed the hammer against the glass and it cracked, sending shards down towards me. I did not know whether the pain I felt was physical or from the words he had just said.

                Sticks finally appeared at my door. There was a large group of them. The one in front boomed, “Conrad Jackson. Get away from the window right now, or I will have to hurt you.”

                They were going to hurt him. I gripped the chair harder.

                Mr. Jackson hit the window again – more shards falling. One scratched my face and I could taste the metallic tinge of blood in my mouth.

                “Kim Taehyung, step away from the chair. I don’t want to hurt you as well.”

                I did not want to be hurt. But I did not want Mr. Jackson to hurt as well.

                “We only want to help, Taehyung,” came the familiar voice of The Stick who was always escorting me, “We only want to protect the both of you.”

                I wavered, loosening my grip. They only ever protected me. If they were here, they could protect Mr. Jackson from whatever he was doing.

                “Don’t you ing let go of that chair,” Mr. Jackson warned from above. He sent another wave of glass down onto my face. There was blood dripping down his arm as well that were from when sharp shards had scratched him.

                I turned back and looked at The Stick in the eye. I saw that they were wearing nametags. Maria. That was her name. Maria wanted to protect me. “Please,” she said.

                I don’t want to be a bad man. Mr. Jackson said it himself.

That the man needs to be hurt before he can become good.

Please, help him. Help me.

                I step away from the chair.

                The unstable structure shook under his weight and the absence of my support. Everything – man and chair – fell from its height and onto the floor at my feet.

                Maria and The Sticks came rushing in and grabbed all of Mr. Jackson’s limbs.

                “You motherer!” he was yelling at me.

                Maria came over and pressed me into her side, protecting me.

                Mr. Jackson was still screaming at me while they dragged him out of the door.

                “You ing motherer! You think you’re good, huh? All those words I said about being good and bad. Well I’m a goddamn liar. We’re no ing good. You’re not good at all,” he sneered at me, emphasizing all the words he knew that would cut into me, “This place isn’t for good people. This place is for murderers. To keep us insane people away from the rest of the world because yeah! I killed my wife. I killed everyone in my best friend’s family. And I was so close to doing that to the last motherer as well.

                You hear, me? You’re a bad person, Kim Taehyung. That’s why you’re in here. You’re a bad person and you…

                You’re a ing murderer.” 

Hello everybody! It's been so long... I didn't mean to go on this mini hiatus but I had a giant grant proposal to complete and it stopped me from writing more. Well... I have a couple of announcements to make! 

First, this is the last letter. That's right, you read it correctly. This is Taehyung's last letter. From here on, we are winding down to the finale - the explanation of it all; the answers to the questions that some of you may have. It's been one hell of a journey but wow. I can't believe so many of you stuck until here with me! 

Second, I want to thank you for sharing your thoughts about "good" and "evil" with me! They were such interesting reads! Even though I've uploaded new chapters, please continue to share them with me if you feel compelled because I'm always down for new insight! <3 

Finally, I recently uploaded the description and preview of a new piece I've been working on: Facade. If you've enjoyed "Letters to Nobody", please check it out! The link is on my profile :)

Okay, that's it for my PSA. As always, thank you so much to all my readers - vocal or silent - I appreciate and love you all so much <3 Leave me a comment if you want, upvote as well if you think it's worth it, or simply enjoy it as you like. Mwah~~