Chapter 13 - The Letter from Prison
The letter was written on cheap, lined paper, the handwriting shaky and erratic.
Elena,
I know you probably hate me, and you have every right to.
Prison is hell, and I am living a nightmare every single day.
I have a lot of time to think in here, mostly about how stupid I was.
I didn't just want the money; I was jealous of you.
My dad loved you more than he loved me, or at least that's how it felt.
I wanted to ruin you so he would only have me left.
Instead, I ruined all of us.
I don't expect you to forgive me, but I need you to know that I am sorry.
I see your scarred hands in my nightmares every night.
Julian.
I read the letter three times, processing the pathetic confession of a broken man.
He was right; I didn't forgive him.
Forgiveness was a gift he had not earned, and an apology couldn't erase the trauma he had inflicted.
But reading his words brought me a strange sense of finality.
He was suffering the consequences of his actions, haunted by the very pain he had caused.
I struck a match and held it to the corner of the letter, watching the flames consume the cheap paper.
I dropped the burning ashes into the dirt of my garden, letting the wind carry them away.
Julian Sterling was no longer my problem, my burden, or my nightmare.
May you like
He was just a ghost from a past life I had completely left behind.
I went back to planting my roses, the soil cool and grounding beneath my scarred hands.
