Chapter 19 - The Unopened Letter
Deep inside Cell Block C of the state maximum-security facility,
the sharp smell of disinfectant and rust hung thick in the air.
Daniel sat on the edge of his narrow bunk,
staring at his raw,
blistered hands.
For eight hours every single day,
he worked in the prison industrial laundry,
hauling hundreds of pounds of wet,
dirty uniforms for fifty cents an hour.
His back burned with constant pain.
His former smooth,
arrogant face was now gaunt,
his eyes sunken,
his spirit entirely crushed.
Every night,
he listened to the harsh sounds of heavy iron doors slamming shut and the echo of desperate inmates shouting down the halls.
A guard walked up to his cell bars,
dropping a small sheet of lined notebook paper through the slot.
"Vance,"
the guard said flatly.
"Mail call."
Daniel scrambled across the cold floor on his knees,
snatching the paper with trembling,
filthy hands.
It was not a letter from an appeal lawyer.
It was a official notice from the State Mental Health Facility regarding his mother.
PATIENT: EVELYN VANCE.
STATUS: PERMANENT COMMITMENT UNDER INVOLUNTARY PSYCHIATRIC CARE.
DIAGNOSIS: SEVERE DELUSIONAL PARANOIA AND TOTAL DISSOCIATION FROM REALITY.
Daniel held the paper against his chest,
letting out a low,
wretched sob that tore through his throat.
His mother was gone into the dark depths of madness.
His uncle was sitting in an extradition holding cell three floors down in the same building.
His company was renamed.
His assets were liquidated.
He had nothing left.
He pulled a cheap pencil stub from his pocket,
turning the paper over to write on the blank back side.
With shaking fingers,
he wrote three words over and over again until his pencil lead snapped:
I am sorry.
I am sorry.
I am sorry.
Please save me, Emily.
He handed the paper back through the bars to the guard,
begging him with hollow eyes to mail it to Vanguard Global Headquarters.
Three days later,
the envelope arrived at the top floor of the Emily Carter International Center.
Arthur Vance walked into Emily’s grand office,
holding the small,
dirty envelope in his gloved hands.
"Miss Carter,"
Arthur said softly.
"A letter arrived from the state penitentiary."
"It is from Daniel."
Emily was standing by her grand window,
looking out over the bustling city below,
holding a crystal glass of sparkling water.
She did not turn around.
She did not ask what the letter said.
"Arthur,"
Emily spoke gently,
her voice completely peaceful.
"Do you remember the night I left the mansion?"
"Yes,
ma'am,"
Arthur replied.
"I remember every detail."
"I left my wedding ring on the table,"
Emily said softly,
turning her head slightly to look at him.
"I left behind three years of my life."
"I left behind every tear,"
"every insult,"
"and every drop of pain."
"When I walked out those grand doors,"
"I didn't just leave a house."
"I closed the book on that chapter of my existence."
"Throw the letter into the shredder."
Arthur bowed his head respectfully.
"Understood,
Chairwoman."
He walked over to the executive shredder near the desk,
dropping the sealed envelope into the sharp steel teeth.
A brief,
whirring sound echoed through the quiet office as Daniel's final,
May you like
desperate plea was reduced to thousands of meaningless white strips,
falling into the dark void below.
