Page 57 of The Widower
“Yes,” she said smugly.“And I love that my best friend thinks so.”
The rest of our conversation stayed stuck on the same topic—him. No matter how hard I tried to steer it elsewhere, it always came back to Colin. And even though I denied it out loud, deep down… I kept replaying those last moments between us, secretly wishing something more would happen—soon.
COLIN ADAMS
I woke up early and got ready for my “routine.”
I was already sitting in the visiting room, waiting to be announced by one of the guards.Today was the day for a “special” visit with someone.
What an idiot for putting it like that.
Special my ass. Today was about humiliating someone even more — something I’m not proud of, but which, on some days, comforts me.
It didn’t take long for them to call me in, and there he was, face to face. I didn’t waste a second when I sat down. “Looks like you’re doing better than before,” I sneered.
He didn’t bother to look at me at first, as usual.
“You’d better pay attention to me, since you know what I’m capable of,” I said, finally drawing his gaze.
“Don’t you ever get tired of humiliating me?” he asked.
“Not at all.”I smiled. “It’s like therapy.”
“How many times do I have to apologize for what happened?” he demanded.
“Are you serious? Apologize? Do you really think there’ll ever be a moment in your life when I’ll forgive you for what you did to me, to my family?” I shot back.
“Isn’t it enough that I got life in prison?” he yelled, fury in his eyes.
“No!” I slammed my fist on the table.
“In a way I’m already dead, and every two weeks you make a point of reminding me,” he said.
Yes — my visits were fortnightly, and on those days I was angrier than usual. “Angry” was probably an understatement; it felt like something took over me on those visits.
“Seems you’d rather take a beating in here every day than sit and talk to me. If that’s what you prefer...” I stood up, but he cut me off. “No! It’s fine.”
“You’re scum, you know that? People like you shouldn’t have been born!” I spat.
“I made a mistake,” he said.
“That’s your excuse? ‘I made a mistake’?” I was furious, feeling like I could kill him with my bare hands.
“Tell me you’ve never made one.”
That was all it took. I leaned into the glass partition between us, rage burning through me.
“One day I’ll celebrate your death.You’ll see.” I stared at him for a long, cold second. “That’s it for today.”
I left the room without looking back.
ISABELLE CAMPBELL
Helen didn’t have that usual smile I’d come to rely on. I know everyone has their own troubles, and I’d even avoided asking her about it that morning—but I was worried, and in one of the rare moments we were alone I decided to press her.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“It’s not me, Isabelle. I just get uneasy on certain days.”
