Page 13 of Pen Pal

He was a child abuser and rapist, a monster worse than even me. He got transferred here recently, serving a puny two-year sentence. The justice system failed again, and he would be free to hurt more children once he got out.

Not on my watch.

I rushed him, grabbing his hair and stabbing my shiv between his ribs. His blood poured hot over my knuckles, and he gasped, gurgling pathetically as I rid the world of another piece of shit.

A thrill shivered up my spine. This was what I was meant to do, who I was born to be. If the judge and jury wouldn't execute them, I would.

The alarm blared through the speakers, a deafening echo I barely registered as I watched the spark of life leave my victim’s eyes. By the time theguards dragged me away, the world faded to static, satisfaction buzzing in my ears.

Amara was gone, and I was exactly what I was always meant to be.

A lost cause.

Amara

Weeks passed, and no letter from Lorenzo. I went to see him once more after our meeting, but he was closed off, giving one-word answers only. I felt like I was losing him and his chance at rehabilitation.

I looked everywhere. There were no letters in my home, at my office, or unexpected notes hidden inside legal paperwork; nothing.

I tried to rationalize it at first. Maybe I was being impatient, and Lorenzo was trying to figure things out. After all, being vulnerable and admitting your faults can be daunting. Maybe he just needed time.

But time moved in a slow crawl until I walked into the office six weeks after Lorenzo's last letter.

I sat at my boss's desk, skimming over case files, when my mentor barged into his office.

"Mrs. Branson," he began, his voice tight. "I need to speak to you about Mr. Ricci."

My heart sank. Did he get killed in a prison brawl? Why did Gerald look so pained? Or was he finally reaching out?

"Mr. Ricci called and fired me this morning. He said he doesn't need legal representation," he informed.

Fired. Why would he fire Gerald? Was there a break in his case, and were the charges dropped? I quickly grabbed his file and flipped through it, finding no motion to dismiss or any new evidence.

My gut twisted. Lorenzo was making progress and getting better. Wasn't that what we both wanted? Had I misread him, and was he really as lost as he seemed in his letter? Did I project my hopes onto him, too naïve to see the truth?

I glanced down at the pile of mail that accumulated on Gerald's desk. Some were unopened, but none were from Lorenzo.

I guess it doesn't matter anymore, I thought.

Gerald's voice broke through my hazy thoughts. "I don't know if you heard, but Mr. Ricci escaped."

My stomach dropped like lead, and I stiffened, the words hovering around my mind like it refused to accept them.

"How? Ashwood is maximum security," I exclaimed.

"He got out after he was shanked by his cellmate and ran from the ambulance once it arrived at the hospital," Gerald explained. "He was out for a few hours."

"Do you know why?" I wondered. "I don't think he's broken out before."

"This was his first breakout. But, Mrs. Branson," Gerald hesitated. "He was caught not far from your residence. We believe he saw you."

I recoiled, the truth hitting me like a punch in my chest. The air burned in my lungs as they seized, fear lancing in my heart.

"What do you mean he saw me?" I stammered.

"The police found evidence that he was near your house," he admitted.

The thought of a murderer watching me when I was in my home made my blood run cold.

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