Writing you has become therapeutic for me. Maybe it’s selfish or maybe I’m being a bitch, but truthfully, even if you told me to stop, even if I knew you were throwing my letters away—you may be now—I’d probably still write.
But I hope you don’t throw my letters away. I hope you read them and they make you feel something other than loneliness. I mean, I don’t know if you’re kinky, but I assume you are.
And I hope you write back. I check the mail daily, hoping I’ll see a letter from you.
Claudia
Chapter 15
Claudia
ONE YEAR LATER
Dmitry,
My mother finally moved out of the house. I’m honestly surprised she waited this long after Father’s death. But I’m glad. I’ve never told anyone that, not even Gio or Amara. I feel bad, like I’m a sinner wishing that my mother would just go.
But she was like this zombie shuffling around, her black dress and veil she refused to remove making her seem like a ghost haunting the house. I want to scream at her to take that stupid thing off.
I want to yell and cry and ask why she’s mourning a man who abused not only her but her children as well.
Gio bought her a house outside of the city. It’s only twenty minutes away, but compact and in the middle of nowhere. At her request. I keep waiting for someone to tell us she died.
A part of me feels bad for her. She was abused for so long by Marco that by the time he died, she was a shell of the person she once was.
She hadn’t been a mother for a long time, but she was still my mother. I still love her, even if she doesn’t love me.
Claudia
Chapter 16
Dmitry
CLAUDIA,
Quit this shit. I’m too old for you, and you’re too smart for this. I know you asked me not to tell Nikolai, but you need to get your head out of the clouds.
What do you think is gonna happen here? We’re gonna be pen pals? I’m gonna open up and you can make me the good guy?
I’ll always be the bad guy. I’ll always be the villain. The sooner you realize that, the better off you’ll be.
I’m not trying to be a prick here, but you’re too good to be sending letters to a fucking criminal.
Don’t send any more, okay? I’m not going to read them.
Dmitry
Chapter 17
Claudia
ONE YEAR LATER
Dmitry,
I was just thinking how I’ve been writing you for the past three years. Seems surreal.
I know, in that one and only letter you sent me, you said to stop writing, that you wouldn’t read my letters. Does it make me a bad person to ignore your wishes?
I’m sorry if it does, but there is something in me that says I should keep writing to you… that maybe you don’t actually want me to stop.
But that might just be wishful thinking, because I’d like us to be friends, Dmitry.
I just turned eighteen and finally graduated high school.
I wrote that like it’s the most exciting thing in the world, but the truth is it feels like any other experience.
Gio threw an enormous party for me. I didn’t know ninety percent of the people who showed up. They all acted like they knew me. Their fake smiles couldn’t hide their distaste at being there.
At least Amara came. And because of that, it made the entire thing worthwhile.
I haven’t sent you anything, didn’t know if you would want it or they would allow you to have personal possessions. I knew they didn’t when Gio got locked up years ago.
But here are a couple of pictures of me from the party and my graduation.
Gio had a professional photographer at both. He went so overboard I was kind of embarrassed.
You probably still remember me as the awkward fifteen-year-old.
Amara keeps asking me what I want to do after college, if I want to go to college. I do. I think. Eventually. Maybe I’ll take a gap year? I don’t really know, to be honest.
I’ve always had something to do, something to work toward. And that was graduating high school. Now that I’m done with that and out of the way, I kind of feel like I’m in this limbo.
Do you ever feel that way?
Amara said you have a couple of years left on your sentence. I can’t even imagine being forced to be somewhere that long, bars over the windows, strangers all around you.
But I feel like I have lived like that to some extent. I was in a prison. It might’ve been a beautiful one, with lavish things and staff all around waiting on me hand and foot.
But they were strangers. Often I felt like my family were people I didn’t actually know. That probably sounds so stupid. It probably sounds so ridiculous comparing our two situations when they’re not remotely the same.