This was my third year in Melbourne.

I looked at the letter in my hand, with no interest in even opening it.

It was the sixth letter from Norton. Since his release from prison six months ago, he had been sending me one every month.

He had been diagnosed with schizophrenia, but it was only manageable with medication.

It was almost ironic that the cause of his illness was me—his conflicting emotions of disgust and affection tore at his nerves, subjecting him to daily extremes of emotion.

Norton recalled the video he had seen, disgusted by what he saw, yet he also felt sorrow for me and regretted not protecting...