Scary Stories - Twist in the Tale Series

Dear Jane

2 August 1985

Dear Jane

I've been in here a year now and not heard from you at all. Imiss you so much, why won't you come and visit me? I'm sure youmust have forgiven me by now; you know I had to do what I did.

I haven't written to you before because they read and censoreverything here. I just couldn't bear their prying eyes seeing myprivate words to you, love. Perhaps that's why you haven'twritten to me?

I'm going crazy with the need to see you, touch you, hear yourvoice, smell your perfume. You can't imagine what it's like inthis place. It's hell. Because it is so overcrowded we have to belocked up most of the time. I spend much of the day stuck in thistiny, smelly cell thinking of you. If it wasn't for my cellmate,Barry, I think I would go insane. We have become very closefriends - you have to, when you spend so much time with someoneit's either that or become worst enemies.

I ache to be with you again and hold you close. You areeverything to me; but you know that - I've proved it to you. Iwouldn't have done what I did if I didn't love you so much. Ifonly you would come and see me so I could explain it to you.

This place is so awful. The inmates are vile - there are allsorts of lowlife: thieves, rapists, murderers and worse. Thewardens aren't much better: they are so brutal. I shouldn't bemade to associate with their likes. I try to avoid them as muchas possible and keep myself to myself. There's only Barry who'shalfway decent. It's only the knowledge that one day I'll be ableto be with you again that keeps me going. I reckon that with goodbehaviour I could be out in about fifteen years - and I canassure you that I am being very well behaved. I'm the very modelof the perfect prisoner - I don't want to serve a day longer thanI have to. I dream constantly of the day the gates close behindme and I'm on the way home to you. You will wait for me, won'tyou?

Something else I can't get out of my mind is the day that led tome being shut in here. Can you imagine the way I felt? To gethome and find you in the arms of someone else - it wasdevastating. You didn't hear me enter the house, did you? No, youwere too occupied. I don't know what prompted me not to announcemyself when I heard the noises upstairs. Some instinct made mecreep up the stairs to find you there - in OUR bed. With HIM. Icould not believe it. He had always been such a good neighbour.

I cannot remember to this day how I came to have the knife in myhand. It's all a blank. All I know is that I went crazy. It wasthe savagery that shocked everybody. No one could believe thatsuch a small knife could inflict so much damage.

I don't want to dwell on that day. You must know I had to do it.I have had a lot of time to think about it and I've come to theconclusion it wasn't your fault. He was always a smooth-talkerand I can easily imagine him worming his way into your affections.I forgive you, love. Surely you can forgive me?

Thank heavens I have had Barry as company for the past year. Iwish he wasn't leaving tomorrow - who knows what scum I will besharing a cell with when he goes? But they are letting him outand good luck to him. I hope he never ends up in a place likethis again - he's a good man. Barry and I have had little to passthe time but to talk and reminisce; there's not much else to dohere. We must have discussed everything under the sun in this boxof a cell: life in general, ourselves and how we came to be here.We know each other very well and I know I can trust Barry. Ofcourse, I've talked endlessly about you. I think Barry knows youalmost as well as I by now. He says you sound a very lovely womanand agrees with me that you could not be to blame for that day.

But you don't need me to tell you about Barry - you will have methim by now. He knows how loath I am to have my letters censoredby the authorities here and it was his idea that if I wrote toyou he would somehow smuggle the letter out when they release him.I told you he was a good man. More than this, he has agreed topersuade you to write to me. Even better, he has promised to comevisit me and act as a sort of go-between, ferrying letters andmessages between the pair of us. I am really touched by this; Idon't think I deserve such friendship.

So you see, love, it's alright to write to me now. Hearing fromyou would mean so much and would help me through the years I haveyet to spend in this terrible place. Maybe too, you will come torealise how truly sorry I am for what I did and you will find itin your heart to come and visit me as well. Oh, if only you would!

There is so much more I want to say to you but I will contentmyself for now in knowing that, because of Barry, you will readthese few words and perhaps relinquish any bitterness you mayfeel towards me.

Please, please write soon.

Forever your loving husband.

*************

5 March 1999

Dear Jane

How could you do it?

I knew something was wrong when Barry stopped visiting me. Eventhe few times that he did visit he was distant and restrained,but I put this down to him having bad memories of his own timeinside and tried to be understanding. Gullible fool that I am!

He said he'd been to see you and that he thought given a littletime he could convince you to write to me and maybe even come andsee me. This dispelled any niggling little suspicions I mighthave had towards Barry's apparent discomfort in my presence.

Time went by, as it does even in prison, Barry's visits becameless and less frequent until they eventually ceased altogetherand still I heard nothing from you. By then, though, my releasedate was becoming more and more imminent and I had that tosustain me - that and the knowledge that soon I could be with youagain and everything would be the way it once was.

Then the glorious day came. The doors clanged shut behind me andthis time I was at the other side of them. I was free! How cleanthe air was, how wide the spaces. How much I was going to loveyou again.

Can you conceive how I felt when, after fifteen long, hard yearsin prison, I finally got home - our home - to find what I did?Can you really blame me for reacting as I did?

They say I will die in here, that this time life means life and Iwill never get out again. Surely you can understand I had to doit? Surely you can see? They also say I made a mess of Barry. Idon't remember - it's all a red, bloody haze. Funnily enough, Istill miss him. Nearly as much as I miss you.

Still your loving husband.