Chapter 17 - Shadows in the Mailbox
On a rainy Tuesday afternoon in November, a thick manila envelope arrived in our mailbox, bearing the official seal of the Illinois Department of Corrections.
My hand hesitated over the paper. Even after three years, seeing anything connected to Chicago made my chest tighten. I sat at the kitchen island and opened it. Inside were legal filings forwarded by Marcus Hale, along with a handwritten letter on lined prison stationary.
It was from Victoria.
Her handwriting, once clean and sharp, was shaky and rushed. In her letter, she begged for forgiveness. She claimed that Evelyn had manipulated her, that she had been terrified of our mother's rage, and that she was suffering deeply inside the medium-security facility in downstate Illinois. She asked if I would consider writing a letter to the parole board supporting her early conditional release.
Appended to the back of the legal file was a report from Evelyn’s facility. Unlike Victoria, Evelyn had shown zero remorse. She had accumulated multiple disciplinary infractions for verbal abuse against prison staff and fellow inmates, still insisting she was the victim of a conspiracy orchestrated by her ungrateful son.
Elena walked into the kitchen, wiping her hands on an apron. She saw the prison seal and stopped.
"Is it them?" she asked softly.
"Victoria wants me to help her get parole," I said, handing her the letter.
Elena read it silently, her expression shifting from apprehension to a quiet, solemn resolve. She laid the letter back on the counter. "What are you going to do?"
"Nothing," I said calmly.
May you like
I picked up Victoria's letter, walked over to the fireplace burning quietly in the living room, and tossed the pages into the flames. I watched the black ink curl and turn to ash.
"They made their choices," I said, turning back to my wife. "And I made mine. I won't let their ghost occupy another second of our lives."
