[ WP ] Armed with the ability to steal the happiest memories from anyone , you live the life of an addict , always needing another fix . Write your deathbed confession .

I've been to about five hundred weddings, as both the bride and groom. I've danced with movie stars, hit home runs, and won contests for just about anything you can imagine. All this because I can steal memories. If you want proof, open the envelope in the corner after I finish, but please, hear me out. 
 
 This morning, I stole the happiest memories of a young child. Did n't think much of it. He was wandering the streets, unsupervised. So I grasped his mind in my power and squeezed out his happiest memory. In it, he was eating pea soup. I kept waiting for something to happen, but nothing ever did. He was homeless. He had n't eaten in months. That bowl of pea soup was the happiest memory he had. 
 
 It was then I decided I needed to stop. I went to church for perhaps the first time in my life, and met with Father Gregory for a confession. A first step, if you will. 
 
 Father Gregory is known for being a kind hearted soul. He is an absolute saint. Free of sin, full of patience, warmth, and understanding. So I felt he would understand when I confessed my sins. Instead, he got eerily quiet. I know it was the worst time to do this. Perhaps the stupidest thing to ever do. But I stole Father Gregory's happiest memory. And I wish I had n't. 
 
 It was dark. Underground, or at least indoors at night. My dry, cracked feet picked pebbles off the dirt floor as I trudged forward, carrying a heavy iron lamp whose flame vanished a few feet into the darkness, casting light over a wooden table where a few tools lay. I stopped in front of the bound figure of a young child and set the lantern down. I stroked her hair, grabbed a hacksaw from the table, and... I think you know the rest. 
 
 He will plead innocent. He will feign ignorance. He shot me as I left the confession booth, but I got away. I've requested only you be my visitor, because I can trust you and because he ca n't trace me to you. I do n't think I have much time left. Beware of Father Gregory- he is not who he appears to be.
