Rated: E · Non-fiction · Biographical · #1274809
a brief written note changes everything.
|Six years of steel bars holding him down against his will. Six years for rage to fester: Maggots begetting maggots as they feed on his rotting bile. Six years to meticulously plan. Six years to reassure himself that he did nothing wrong and that he was perfectly justified.|
Six years for steel backbone to replace limp spaghetti. Six years to grow back what he plowed under: Gardenia blooming now where once only a weed dared thrive. Six years to gradually stop looking back over my shoulder with every step. Six years to remember how to dance.
Six years vanish in a heartbeat caught between two ticks of the clock. Steel shatters in mind numbing cold. Backbone and bars disintegrate as metallic shards pierce my heart—Inmate 93378680 will be released January 26th.
I step back in time. Final words screamed in court echo once again. I will get you for this! I will find you! Fragmented vision of my surroundings. Security wisps into the darkness beyond fragile windows. Refraction--deer caught in headlights blankness. Cross-country move suddenly isn't far enough away.
I will get you for this! I will find you! Insipid locks keep out only those too weak to come in anyway. Every sound is magnified, analyzed, and dissected. Test 911 call puts me on hold. Petals wilt.
He knows people. Terror negates nobility. They owe him. He will collect.
Simple acts now take on new dimension. Splintered night-terror canker once more an open, running sore: Remembered threats echo once again: Cut break-line crash, a fire behind doors nailed shut. I will get you for this! I will find you! Normal becomes complicated: walking my puppy now a Herculean task, twelve mile trip from work becomes an epic journey.
I will get you for this! I will find you! Heart beating in cadence--faster, louder. I will get you for this! I will find you! A scant few days left of safety shadowed by shadows moving on the lawn. Overshadowed by the fact he isn’t even out yet.
His freedom becomes my cage.
I will get you for this! I will find you!
I will get you
I will . . .
Addendums to life continue, for they inexorably must. I ran far, far away and still, it never seemed far enough. A thousand miles might as well be a mile to the determined. Safe, in a new life, but still, years later, I would worry. Doors and windows locked when I was alone. I had my car marked so I would know if it had been touched. My husband was always careful to be sure the marks were in place. I would hear from mutual friends when he'd been on a rant. No one understood why he couldn't let go.
He used to be terrified of only one thing: dying alone. Three years ago he did just that. He wasn't discovered for a week in his isolated metal trailer in North Carolina in July. For some reason, I was on a list of people to call if something happened to him. Not his sister. So I called her to let her know. We had the same thoughts:Karma. And yet, I wouldn't wish that on even him. But I will freely admit that I've slept better ever since. Windows open to fresh air above my bed. Never needing to doublecheck the car. Immediately I felt lighter. My husband said I was more relaxed; no longer on guard.
The cage doors unlocked that day. The walls fell, disintegrating into ash. His death became my freedom.