Chapter Two
Setting up this wretched phone made me feel a murderous rage, one I hadn’t felt in almost fourteen years, but I used my therapy training from prison to calm myself and get through it. I needed to hear his voice, feel his soothing words wash over me like a bucket of hot spring water on a cold day. I needed his words of guidance and reassurance and praise. I needed Victor.
Shortly after I had been transferred to maximum security with the other adult inmates, I got over my childhood ways and started thinking like a grownup. I was going to get out of jail at some point and I knew if I started planning soon enough, I would be ready for when that day came. I made a plan. I needed to gain contact with someone from the outside world, but who? I had no family to speak of, Leon had been my only real friend, and any person I might have considered an acquaintance at school all thought I was a raging psychopath. Not that I blamed them, of course.
For weeks, I went through my mental rolodex of every single person I had ever met, and every time, I came up with the same person. Leon’s family lawyer, Mr. Putnam, had been my fathers lawyer for as long as I could remember. I originally thought he would have been the one to represent me during my case, but as it was, he had a hard time looking at me throughout the entire trial. I couldn’t say that I blamed him either. Afterall, he and my father had also been best friends through college.
I thought long and hard about what I wanted to say in my letter to him. For weeks, I wrote and rewrote words on paper before crumpling it up and trying again and again. My approach had to feel sincere if my plan were to work. Finally, I told my head to shut it, and I let my heart do the talking. I called on every empathetic emotion I could muster, and I thought about the rich blue color of Leon’s eyes, and my pen flew away.
Mr. Putnaam,
Firstly., I would like to say thank you for opening this letter. I know this was probably highly unexpected, and I would be insane to think you didn’t immediately consider tossing this envelope into the fire. For that I am exceedingly grateful.
Secondly, before I get into the heart of my letter, I would like to offer you my sincerest apologies for what I have done to not only you, but your family. I know how much my father meant to you and your wife, and I cannot put into words the amount of times I have grieved for what I have put you and everyone through. I know I do not deserve it, but I beg for your forgiveness.
Since entering juvi and subsequently prison, I have worked hard to figure out what was wrong with me. I’ve been to countless doctors and therapists, and while I don’t believe that my unstable mental health is an excuse for the actions of my fourteen year old self, I do believe that I have changed for the better. I won’t lie and say that I’m cured and no longer have certain unexplainable urges at times, but I have learned to work through them, and not for them. I have found the Lord within inside of these metal bars, and everyday I continue to grow and become stronger in my faith and my resolve.
What I ask from you isn’t fair, and for that I offer my deepest apologies, but I have attached within this correspondence an additional letter for the Walker family, for Leon’s family. I need to attempt to make amends. I need to try and right my wrongs in the only way that I can, and I need your help to do it.
Please, I’m begging you. From the bottom of my heart, please forward this letter on to Mr. and Mr.s Walker.
Thank you,
Annie
When I had finished the letter I smiled wide. There was no way he would refuse my request. Mr. Putnam was a man of God, and anyone who asked for forgiveness was sure to get it. My only hopes were that he opened it, and that when he eventually forwarded on the other letter, the Walkers would open it.
Several weeks went by with no news, and I began to doubt my ability to feign innocence and reformation. Being a loner meant I never got mail as it was, but waiting for something and never getting it was, by far, even more torturous.
Then one day it happened. As I sat in my cell, staring up into the metal grain of the bunk above me, what I had been longing to hear finally appeared, but not in the way I had hoped for, but one that was destined to change my life forever.
“Ross,” a guard called out and I rolled my eyes. I hated them referring to me by my last name. “You got a letter.”
I jumped out of my bed and snatched the opened envelope.
“Annie? Who is it from?” Stabby jumped down from the top bunk, peering over my shoulder.
I flipped the envelope over. No forwarding address. Probably smart on the Walker’s part not including their current address.
I pulled the letter out and threw the envelope to the side. Very quickly I realized, this mail had not come from the Walkers or Mr. Putnam, but from someone else entirely.
My dearest Annie,
I know you do not know me, but I fear I know you better than yourself. My name is Victor and I’m your biggest fan.
I grunted and simultaneously rolled my eyes. Fans of serial killers were not uncommon or unheard of in prison. I just never thought I would have one, and I certainly didn’t want one. I took
