Disclaimer: I don't own PW. Capcom does. So please don't sue me :P

I see you everywhere.

When I watch television, you're hidden in a shadow, purple beads glistening with your grin. When I buy a burger, I can feel you hovering beside me, begging for a bite. Even when I close my eyes to sleep, there you are, and you never go away.

You're worse than you were when you were actually here!

I don't want to say I miss you, because then I would have to think about…those years of my life. I-I mean, I'm happy now. I have a family. But when I watch my daughter with my assistant, it…reminds me so much of you and I.

I find myself wishing it were you and I.

Because I cannot stop myself-

I do miss you, and nothing will change that.

Last week I was channel surfing, and one of the stations was playing an episode of the Steel Samurai. I froze, my heart stuttering to a stop as the theme music washed over me. A nauseating wave of nostalgia about you broke over me--the remote clattered to the floor--and I put my head in my hands and sobbed.

I sobbed.

I see you everywhere, Maya.

I'm guilt ridden. Are you doing okay? Are you being taken care of? I-I don't even know if you're still alive! Mia…I told her I'd take care of you, and I abandoned you!

And Pearls…how did Pearls take my leaving?

Is she angry with me?

Are you?

I am so sorry. I know you tried to talk to me, to call me, to visit me after that case. But I was too humiliated, too self-centered to let you in. I ignored your increasingly desperate calls and I quietly locked the door when you came to see me.

Every day, regret churns my stomach and formulates horrifying nightmares. And more than anything, I want you to know that I do regret. I regret every wrong thing I did to you.

I need to see you.


No..no, that's wrong.

I need to be with you, as your protector, as your mentor, as…your friend.

But do you need to be with me?

I can't go on like this: smelling a Samurai Dog and needing to throw up from the shame--dreaming of old cases and waking in a cold sweat, tears running down my cheeks--my stomach knotting as I imagine you cold, alone, dead, or worse--accidentally finding the Magatama that I tried to hide in my dresser drawer and not being able to breathe.

I can't wear the color purple.

I can't be near black haired girls.

It's been seven years.

...I need to see you.

Please come home.