Her photo. It’s the only thing that brings me any kind of pleasure or relief now from the hell of my life. Her beauty, the way her radiance lights up my life like a golden sun broadcasting its brilliance through the darkness of space—if the guards ever find her photo I’ve hidden in the hole in my mattress, I don’t know what I’ll do with myself.
I first saw her at my trial five years ago. She was stunning. My eyes were drawn to her the moment she walked into the room. Her curves just begging for my hands, those lips just meant to wrap around my cock while her eyes gazed up at me with desperate submission. But beyond that, she looked at me in a way that none of the others did; she looked at me like I was actually human. Actually a man. And I’ll never forget that.
I knew I had to meet her, so I began writing to her when the guards would allow it. So far, she hasn’t written me back, but that’s no surprise. She’s afraid of me. And she should be. I’m a killer. I’ve murdered men, and I’m in prison for it. But I would never hurt her.
Elena…
She’s my butterfly. So precious, so delicate. I wouldn’t hurt a hair on her head. I couldn’t. Every time I think about her, my dick gets so hard that I can barely stand. All I want to do is worship her body like she deserves, and all I need is for her to respond to one of my letters for me to be able to show her what I can do.
What’s she doing out there in the world anyway?
I know she’s probably a lawyer now. She was just an intern then, but I know how those sleazy bastards at those firms work; they’ve probably offered to “fast track” her if she just gives in and spreads her legs for them – one of the partners. I doubt she’s that kind of girl, but what if they give her no choice? Just the thought of her being put in that kind of position makes my blood boil and gives me ideas about breaking out of this goddamn hellhole to protect her.
Or maybe that’s the kind of girl she is. Maybe that’s how she plays the game.
“No,” I grumble. “Elena isn’t like that.”
I hold her photo in front of my face – a printout from one of her social media pages that I had to go through hell to get. I set it aside and pick up my pen again.
I’m writing Elena another letter asking her to come and see me. I’m desperate, like a starving man dying to get his hands on something to eat. Only Elena is my light in this black pit of hell, this prison that encompasses every waking moment of my life, dictating when I wake, when I eat, when I sleep. I can’t even imagine what would happen if she actually answered one of my letters, let alone actually agreed to come and visit me.
The entire world would rock on its foundations. I guess I’m really not expecting it, but I keep writing my letters anyway. It’s the only thing that keeps me going now.
I’m almost finished writing when I’m interrupted by three unexpected visitors to my cell: Jerry, Tyson, and Chad. These boys aren’t my friends, and we have no business arrangements – at least not currently – so there’s no reason for them to be paying me a visit right now.
“Who’s the babe?” Tyson asks. Out of the three of them, Tyson is the least likely to have a career as a poet if he ever makes parole.
“Yeah, she’s hot,” Chad agrees.
“You didn’t tell us you had a sweet thing at home, Bain,” Jerry chuckles.
I’ve taken a lot of shit in prison. You have to. The guards hold a false power they could never wield on the outside. But I don’t have to take this. Not from these guys.
“I’d watch those tongues of yours, little boys, before you lose them.”
I tuck Elena’s photo back in its hiding place in my mattress and stand. My reputation proceeds me here, and it would be foolish to assume that these fools don’t know who they’re dealing with. Still, sometimes that reputation can get you into trouble with guys lower on the food chain trying to make a name for themselves by taking you down a rung or two. Seems like that’s what’s going on here.
“What’d he say?” Jerry laughs.
“I dunno, Jer. I think he’s threatening us,” Chad replies.
“Yeah, that’s what I heard,” Tyson agrees.
They think I’m soft. They think these years have turned the predator into prey.
They’re wrong.
Jerry and Tyson come at me first – together. They don’t even have the balls to come at me one at a time. I see the flash of light gleaming off a crude prison shank in Tyson’s hand and twist to the side and catch his wrist, pivoting the thrust straight into Jerry’s belly.
The look of shock on Jerry’s face is priceless. If only I had a camera right now.
He goes down in a shaking heap as Chad leaps at me, obviously the weakest of the group, swinging fists in a wild rage. They land, but I barely even feel them.
I strike back with an uppercut that breaks several of his teeth and sends him sprawling.
Tyson, seeing what just happened to his friends, is already backing out of my cell and screaming for the guards. Yeah, now it’s time for these guys to play the victim.
They won’t get away with it, though. I may be in prison, but I’ve still got connections on the outside, and the guards know better than to treat me like a dog. The boys will do their time in solitary, and I’ll have bought myself a few more months of time before another group comes at me and tries to make their bones by taking me down.
That’s what it’s like being top dog anywhere, I guess.
I go back to my bed and finish writing my letter. That’s what I’m doing as the guards and medics show up and begin dragging away my attackers. They see I’m not a threat and don’t even bother handcuffing me. One of them actually comes over, lifts the visor on his riot helmet, and gives me a grin. I’m not sure I recognize him.
“The Movie Star Murderer,” he says. “Guess these boys didn’t know who they were fucking with.”
“Guess not.”
“As per prison protocol, it is my duty to ask you if you’d like to be placed in isolation for your own protection.” I can see him doing his best not to laugh.
“For my protection?” I ask. He doesn’t say anything. “No, that’s all right. I think I’ll decline that offer.”
“As you wish,” he replies. “But you understand that one attempt has been made on your life, and others may follow—”
“Yeah, I get that,” I reply, placing my letter in the envelope and sealing it. “You could do something for me, though. Could you take this to the front office and make sure it gets mailed? I’d really appreciate that, seeing as how I almost died and all.”
The guard chuckles, eyes my letter, then takes it from me. “It’ll go out tomorrow.” He turns to go, but then notices the pen in my hand. Pens are contraband, given they can be used to smuggle drugs in and out of the prison as well as be used as stabbing weapons in prison fights. But he just looks at me, then turns and leaves the cell.
I have to smile. This may be just another letter going out the door, never to get another response, but it may be the one that finally gets her attention. And I’m never going to stop hoping, because I’m a starving man, and the only cure for my desperate hunger is Elena.
