"I have to get that murdering bitch out of my head." His voice echoed in the empty kitchen. "God I wish my sister were here to talk to, she would know...what to do." His words echoed round the empty space again. He had over the last couple of days sensed there was something wrong. They had always been sensitive to each other's emotions, even as young children, and he had been relieved once he had recovered from the trauma of the cryochamber to sense even over the vast distances that separated. A few weeks went by before she brought it up again. I had not dared totalk to about it. She asked what I wanted. I told her I wanted to see atherapist and stop doing it. She talked about if this is a need ofmine, than perhaps I should explore it. She in the meantime shared shewas reading a book on the subject and found it enlightening. Shethought it explained a lot about me, my past and how I was formed. Shementioned that I was a good dad, that I hugged my kids and told themhow much I loved. More

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