Photo of a Congressman

Since I found this heinous object, the days have been passing in blurs. At times I find myself just standing in the middle of my kitchen, one hand on the rice cooker, just staring into space. Or I'll snap out of it only to realize - as I watch my own blood trickle onto the white porcelain tiles - that I had unknowingly been clutching the blade of a knife, my fist severely clenched around its razor-sharp blade. Has she betrayed me? It is hard to feel anything besides the dull burning deep within my gut. Right now it feels warm, dry and fuzzy, but I know that this is only the beginning; if I try to ignore it the result will be a raging inferno that would undoubtedly consume me and tear me asunder. I can't let that happen, if just for the lil' man's sake.

I've taken a few days off my job at the Burnt Toast Diner just so that I could straighten things out in my mind. After a while I realized the decision I had to make was simple. My wife and I haven't had the greatest of marriages...I mean, she killed off my homies and tried to pin it on me....and then she tried to kill me! So THIS is nothing, right? I decided that if we were going to work things out, there would be no room for sneaking around; I needed to be upfront and go straight to the source.

The conversation broke me heart; I, myself, heard it shatter within my chest as she spoke to me, her pretty blue eyes wide with fabricated innocence. She says it's all Linderman's doing, and that much I believe; it hurts me to know that we will never be free of that monster. But she lied to be all the same; nothing but half-truths were uttered from those sensual, puckered lips. I have to find out what she's up to; I have to find out what she's doing with this....Nathan Petrelli.

Mr. Congressman, your picture holds a thousand mysteries.