Why me? Why do I always have to be the bearer of bad news? Grandma Z always said us Zeddemores must have been designated messengers. It's been over six months since Ray killed Peter.

I believe he was possessed at the time. I mean, come on, Ray looked up to Peter as an older brother. What would cause him to do something so drastic? We had the answer of course, possession. However, the courts didn't buy it and sent Ray away for life with no possible idea of parole.

It tore my heart to watch my best friend, the exuberant Ray wilt away to a mere shell of his former self. Each time we visited him, he seemed to be more distant, withdrawn into his own mind.

He mumbled of seeing Peter, feeling how lost and angry Peter was with him. His eyes had a dazed look about them that bordered on fanatic. Egon often took PKE readings of Ray, but found no lingering ectoplasm or any traces of Peter's biorhythms.

It was what we all feared. Ray was slowly going insane. He drastically lost weight and the bright orange jumpsuit he wore hung baggily around him like a large plastic bag. All of his movements and speech was slow. Nothing like how we remembered him.

It was a week after we visited when we got a phone call from the jail. Ray had escaped. He somehow managed to dig a tunnel under his cell and found his way outside. The guards chased him to the cliff. The guard then told me that Ray has paused and turned around, holding his hands outward.

"I'm coming, Peter," Ray said, slowly leaning backwards. "I'm coming."

The guards begged him to stop, but before he toppled over completely, they heard him yell one last thing.

"I'm sorry!"