Page 8 of Pen Pal

"You're not writing him back. End of discussion," Mark shouted, throwing my wrist from his grip as he backed away. He ran a hand through his hair, laughing as he muttered insults before he walked off.

I stood frozen on the spot for a few moments, unsure how to react. Ever since Mark and I got married, he started showing his violent side more and more. I wasn't sure how much more of this I could take.

"Maybe you being a lawyer wasn't such a good idea," he called from the living room. "A woman having a job is emasculating, anyway. Let me provide like I wasmeant to."

No way, I thought. I worked too hard on my degree to give up now. But I stayed silent, instead dashing for the stairs. I darted into the bedroom, locking myself in the bathroom before I started the shower.

Maybe now he would leave me alone.

By the time I went to bed, Mark was already fast asleep, snoring softly.

I sat awake as the hours ticked by, staring at a blank piece of paper on my nightstand.

I wanted to write back so badly. I knew he would keep sending those worksheets, and I wanted to say something before Mark forbade me from writing again.

I was trapped. I still had to see Lorenzo for work, but I had to keep that spark of light alive in him.

Pushing the piece of paper away, I settled under the sheets. I'd write him from work, I decided. Mark couldn't track those letters or keep me from writing them in the office.

As long as Lorenzo kept writing to me, I promised myself that I would write back.

Because I wasn't letting him slip through my fingers when I could save him.

Days bled intonights, and I found it impossible to concentrate on my other cases. Time seemed meaningless until I would see Lorenzo again. The other inmates Gerald represented were remorseless criminals, but there was something about Lorenzo. I felt like I could really make a difference with him.

The next worksheet arrived, as did his letter.

Dear Amara,

It took longer than I'd like to finish this worksheet. I don't like dwelling on the past or rehashing unpleasant memories. I don't see a point to it, really, but I filled them out anyway.

Why am I the way I am? There are too many answers to that question, so I'll summarize; I am what life has made me. Everything that happened to me has led me to this moment.

You ask if I have regrets. My only regret is that I didn't kill my victims sooner before they could hurt others. Maybe then things would be different because there would be much less pain in the world.

But unless someone invented a time machine, regrets serve no purpose but to make the one with them miserable. So, I refuse to dwell on these thoughts.

You say it's the justice system's job to dispose of these low-lives. I can admit that's true. However, I can also tell you that they do a shit job of it. Thousands of criminals walk free all the time, and the judicial system fails the victims. What to do then? Just sit and wait until they hurt the next child?

I don't think any sane man could do that. The system is what needs to change because then men like me wouldn't need to keep the balance between good and evil in this world.

I know that without those miscreants, the world is a brighter place. Tell me that I'm wrong, and you'll be admitting the suffering of children is better than the death of their abusers.

Write back.

-Enzo

I sighed as I smoothed out the wrinkled paper as if he'd written the letter and then tossed it in the trash before he decided to mail it.

I was glad that he did. The insight into his mind was fascinating. His thought process had a certain morality and logic to it. I could work with this.

After I finished looking over the worksheet, I began writing a letter of my own.

Dear Lorenzo,

Thank you for completing this worksheet. I know it can't always be easy to examine yourself likethat or to revisit unpleasant memories. I promise that good will come from this and that this discomfort is only temporary.

I can understand where you're coming form. The justice system does fail sometimes, and criminals walk the streets free every day when they shouldn't. Some innocent people get thrown in prison as well. It isn't perfect, but it's what we have, and we must respect it.

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