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The house was modest, with a white picket fence and a small yard, the kind that people bought to settle down in.
A bright glow spilled through the kitchen window, illuminating the darkness like a beacon.
And then I saw her. Amara. Her hair hung in a loose ponytail, an apron tied loosely around her waist, and her sleeves rolled up as she moved like she belonged. She was clearly in her element, her happy place, her world.
Like a fool, I let myself pretend that she was waiting for me to walk through the front door. She'd turn, smile, and welcome me home like I was still worth something.
But that fantasy was cut short when someone walked into the kitchen after her.
He placed his hand on her shoulder, the gold wedding band glinting in the light. He wore a suit and a loose tie, like a man who had never had to ask foranything his entire life. He was clearly her husband, and he kissed her cheek, telling her something that made her laugh.
Something broke inside me, and I could feel it in my chest. The sharp, jagged, and foreign feelings clawed up my throat.
Sorrow. Jealousy. Rage.
So this was why she stopped responding to my letters.
They sat at the dining room table, and she plated their food, setting a meal down in front of him, who should've been me.
I watched as they ate and laughed, and she wiped something off his chin and shook her head.
They were happy.Shewas happy.
That's when I knew. Amara deserved a normal life, a clean slate, and a man who loved her. Not the broken, twisted thing that I had become.
I had to let her go.
I sighed, letting the last light in me extinguish for good, exorcising it from my body. I turned, walked away, and disappeared into the shadows.
Back to the prison, the cage, and who I reallywas.
My wound throbbed in my side as guards seized me, dragging me back to the prison. I didn't resist as they haphazardly patched me up in medical, then threw me in the hole.
The days blended together. I sat in the darkness, letting the truth settle inside me.
Amara was gone, and she wasn't coming back. She was my last chance at something good, but now there was nothing left of me to save.
I surrendered myself to my demons, done pretending, and let them claim me.
When I emerged from solitary confinement into my cell, I knew I wasn't the same.
I ignored Vitali as he approached me. I went straight to the phones, dialing a number I'd memorized.
Gerald picked up on the second ring, listening to the pre-recorded message before the call finally connected us. "Mr. Ricci?"
"You're fired," I stated, my voice blank and void of emotion.
"What? Why?" he asked.
"Your services are no longer required," I admitted, my voice flat, empty, and dead.
"Mr. Ricci—"
I hung up, thoroughly uninterested in what he had to say.
Vitali called my name as I walked past him, lining up as the guards called for rec time. Inmates got one hour of outdoor time per day, and I wouldn't miss this time for the world.
Because the man I'd watched for weeks, ever since Amara stopped writing me, was going as well.