[ WP ] You are a professional pickpocket . You 've just picked someones pocket only to discover that the thing you have stolen is truly horrifying .

The force of my heart beat is clouding my thoughts. I've never done this before. I know that this is wrong, but what else is a man to do when the life of your daughter is on the line. This is the place and this is the time. 
 
 Ok. Go over it again. She leaves from the back of her restaurant every night after closing at 11 and cleaning up around 11:30. It's 11:31 now. 
 
 I'm standing at the corner of the sidewalk and the alley. I hear the back door open. I peek and see her locking up. Make sure no one is around. She turns left from the alley as planned to her car. This is it. 
 
 He said wait until she is unlocking her car to pick the purse. She only carries the thing he needs in it. She's close to her car. I feel my hand shaking. I grab my wrist with the other hand to keep it steady. I have to be quick. After sticking my hand in the purse, I have what I need. Unfortunately, I touched her in the process. I take off without looking back, but I do n't hear a word. I took what feels like a piece of paper, but I do n't know what it is. 
 I get to my car around the corner of the block, unlock it, and jump and lay on the back seat. I sit there with my heart racing and my mind strangely peaceful as I wait for police lights and sirens, if any. I lay there for at least thirty minutes and nothing. I calm myself down and jump into the driver's seat. I remember that I had just taken something that does n't belong to me and let my curiosity take over. I took an envelope. 
 
 The envelope is not sealed, so I open it. It's a letter and a smaller piece of paper behind it. I'm cautious, so I'm careful to do one thing at a time. I begin to read the letter. 
 
 It starts, `` Dear, James''. This letter can not be addressed to me. `` A normal man would apologize for such a gruesome act, but not this man. I am a sick man, but not one that regrets his actions. Despite what has happened to you, I hope you find peace. Sincerely, A.'' 
 
 I try to grasp to reality because A. is the man who called me. Why is he doing this? I do n't understand. This must be a game designed by a mad man. I remember that there's another piece of paper. 
 
 A shock that makes you thoughtless is incomprehensible until you experience it. You ca n't understand it until you see something like a photograph of your 11 year daughter's limbs in the shape of a heart on your wife's grave. Your reality crumbles further when your dead wife is alive and holding your daughter's head above the tombstone.
