Arizona

A part of me doesn't want to do this. A part of me doesn't even want to repeat what I know, just because it is so wrong.

But you've all been there for me, so I suppose I owe you this.

These cross-country explorers found her in the long abandoned Seneca Lake Trading Post. According to them, they were going in to take some pictures and film silly stuff when they were overcome by the stench of death. One of the braver members of the group went into the dining hall and found my Catherine, face up in an ocean of blood. After calming down they called the police, who sealed off the area and then called Mrs. Moore. The explorer crew admitted to the police that they had taken pictures out of sick curiosity; obviously the cops told them to hand the pictures over once they were developed.

I'm not sure if I want to see them.

What was truly disturbing were how she died: the police say that Catherine had slit her own throat with a seven inch blade, which killed her within mere seconds. But there was one other wound: a deep and long cut across her stomach, so much so that someone was able to reach into her body and mess around with her organs. Surprisingly and unsettlingly, not a single one was missing. To add salt to the wound her precious engagement ring was gone.

Just writing that made me physically ill. Who would do that to someone as sweet as Catherine?

The wake is today and the funeral tomorrow. Maybe I will compose myself just enough to make a video, but no promises.