Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 142728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Dear Emily,
This letter is long overdue. At first, I hesitated to write it because I do not want you to think I am asking for anything. Not your pity or forgiveness. It has been years and I do not want to reopen old wounds. I recognize that saying sorry will not bring your parents back or change what I did.
I started a life of crime at a young age. Back then, I didn't see any other options and didn't have any influences to steer me in a better direction. I never planned to hurt anyone. But looking back, I now see because of the choices I made, tragedy was inevitable.
If you find it in your heart to visit me, I would like to share the truth of that night as well as tell you in person how sorry I am for the hurt and pain I’ve caused your family. This isn’t a plea for help or forgiveness. I am where I belong and I will never leave here alive. I hope that gives you some peace.
Sincerely,
Zach Snell
My entire body’s shaking by the time I finish reading the letter. Like hell would I ever visit that fucking monster.
I crumple the letter in my hand, then stop myself. Leaning over the counter, I smooth the paper flat, neatly refold it, and tuck it in its envelope. Maybe one day Libby will want to read it?
Libby. Shit, did she see this? It was jumbled in with all the other mail, so I doubt she noticed. I jam the envelope in my back pocket.
Even from behind prison walls, someone else’s sins still cast a shadow over my life. And I hate it.
I’ve lost my appetite, but I return to the table and bite into my pizza. Slowly, I push the short letter out of my mind. I won’t give him power over me. He’s taken enough already.
I sip my seltzer and check my phone. No more messages from Dex. Maybe I should invite him over?
No. Libby and I have done just fine on our own all these years. I can’t call a man to come over just because a letter jangled my nerves. That’s unacceptable.
Libby pushes through the kitchen door and I set my phone facedown on the table to set a good example of what civilized people should do when someone walks into a room.
“Join me?” I ask.
“Sure.” She plucks an orange out of the refrigerator and drops into the chair next to me. “What’s up?”
“Nothing.” I force a cheery smile. “I just like seeing your angelic little face.”
She fakes a big, wide smile.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, setting my slice down. “You seem sort of down.”
“Just tired.” She sighs and flicks her gaze toward the door. “I got a sixty-seven on my math quiz. No matter how hard I try, I just don’t understand it.”
Ugh, I remember those days. “Do you want me to find you a tutor?” That’s what I wish my parents had done for me at Libby’s age.
She wrinkles her nose and purses her lips like she’s about to protest, then seems to stop herself. “Maybe. I dunno. Troy Lamb said he’d help me study for the next quiz.”
I fight the urge to tease her about studying with a boy. “That’s nice. How does he do in the class?”
“Perfect.” She digs her nails into the orange peel and rips it apart. Juice squirts out and runs down her fingers. I hand her a napkin.
“Thanks.” She wipes her hands and continues peeling the orange.
A cloying citrus-scented mist hangs in the air. Doesn’t exactly go with my pizza but I don’t want to tell Libby to eat her orange somewhere else. I want her close.
“Have you heard from Serena?” she asks.
“We’ve talked a couple times. She specifically wanted me to say hi to you.”
A quick, eager smile flashes over her face. “Did she drop that little goblin, yet?”
“Please don’t call her baby a goblin,” I warn, suppressing a laugh.
“Pshh. She called him that first.” She taps her fingertips together. “Ooo! I hope he’s one of those cute, pudgy babies. Not the kind that comes out looking like a wrinkly thumb.”
I choke and sputter on a chunk of burned pizza crust. “I thought you weren’t interested in babies?” Dear God, I cannot have my little sister getting baby fever right now.
She shrugs and pops an orange slice in her mouth. “It’s Serena’s baby, though. I’m excited for her,” she says around a mouthful of orange pulp.
“Me too.” I blow out a relieved breath.
“How was work?” she asks.
“Blech.” I pull an annoyed face. “I had to report test results the client didn’t like, so they complained until I ran the test again.”
“And I’m guessing it came back with the same result.”
“You got it.” I bite into my pizza with a hard crunch.
“Hurry up.” She waves her hand in my face in case I don’t know what hurry means. “Season two of Chucky just dropped. We have to watch it.”