I killed him. I shot him dead. I hated him so much. Hated him for endorsing Jefferson. But I also loved him. I thought we were friends. Oh, my god! What have I done?
Will I ever see him again? How am I going to explain this to Theodosia? All of my stories that I've told her since she was a babe include him. I wanted to give her the world. I wanted to make it better. I've made it worse.
There was so much rage. I saw red. Alexander Hamilton is dead. At my hand.
Regretfully yours, A. Burr