CHAPTER 10

Dimitri

Present day, Wentworth Maximum Security Prison.

I was in a lousy mood. The prison guard escorted me to my cell after work. I entered my cell with a scowl on my face. I seethed with irritation and didn't want to be bothered. Not that it was new.

I took off my blue prison jacket, only wearing my white tank top beneath, and hung it on the chair. I sauntered to my bed, plopped down, and held my head between my hands. A dull ache started to form. Promising a good headache.

"Inmate 29901!"

I looked up and saw the prison guard in his dark blue uniform staring at me. It was strange to see one of them in front of my cell. They usually didn't come looking for me unless it's got something to do with the parole hearings or visitors that I almost never got coming.

"You got mail." The prison guard continued, reaching his hand out with a letter.

Wait a minute, is that a pink envelope? I frowned at the prison guard, not getting up just yet. I rarely got messages and if I did, it's by email. Nobody sent letters. And from fucking who!? Eventually the prison guard got tired from standing and threw the envelope at my feet. As he walked away, I reached for it.

The front of the pink envelope was the address of Wentworth Prison and my name written neatly above. There was no mistaking, this letter was sent for me. I looked at it, confused for a second, and ripped the top open. Who the hell would send me a letter? I thought curiously?

The handwriting was the neatest I have ever seen from someone. My eyes scanned the letter as I read.

Dear Mr. Hawke,

How are you? My name is Lillie Clarke. I am 24 years of age and a violinist as well as a 4th grade English teacher. I received your details for Pen Pal Prisoners.

I would like to help people and thought having contact with you might inspire some encouragement.

I'm not sure what you been and going through but know this can be a good outlet for people to talk about themselves or what they're doing. I can write to you once a week. Or more if you would like.

Here's something about me. I love playing the violin and teaching my kids literature. Anything vintage and classic is what I love. I'm not bad in the kitchen either and can bake a mean set of chocolate brownies. My roommate is my ginger cat called pebbles.

I'm excited to learn more about you. What is your daily life like? Does the prison have any books or movies to keep busy? How are you feeling today?

Share as much or as little as you like. I really don't mind.

I look forward to hearing from you.

Regards,

Lillie.

What the hell?

I read the letter twice. It felt strange to receive it. I had no knowledge about pen pal prisoners. Never mind, registered for one. Then it hit me. I remembered a few years ago that random inmates were to be picked for the pen pal prisoners programme and inmates that wanted to volunteer. Since I didn't volunteer, I didn't think much about it. Until now, that is.

Placing the letter back in the pink envelope, I didn't know what to make or feel about all of it. Was I supposed to write back, or completely ignore the letter and call it bullshit? I contemplated the latter. I threw the letter on my side desk and continue to lie on my bed.

It pleased me this was a woman; I guess. Her letter sounded feminine, and the pink envelopes were a dead giveaway. I smirked. A tinge of eagerness crept through me.

While I would've chosen the latter option. I'll confess I've been bored out of my skull here most of the time. And whether or not I wanted to admit it to myself, I felt lonely. I talked a little around here. Maybe it would be worth my while to respond. Who knows, maybe the letters can shake things up in my life? Hoping I'll be writing to a drop-dead sexy woman, that is. I licked my lips and smiled salaciously.

With time on my hands, I decide to get up and head to the library. That's where the stationery was collected.

***

I walked in the small library to the counter desk where the stationery was held. It was half in construction, with part of the place cut off with yellow tape. Construction stopped due to lack of funds by the administration, or lack of sympathy for convicts.

"What you need?" Jimmy asked.

He was an elderly black man, an inmate like me, who worked at the library. And the only friendly one I knew. I liked the library; it was the only place to find solitude outside of the cells. Jimmy and I got to know each other well over the years. And the only guy I ever smiled with. His peppered beard and hair were distinguished. The lines of his face created from a lot of years of hardship. If you needed to know about anything. He was your guy. Thirty years served up in prison gives you a lot of experience.

"Pen, paper, and a couple of envelopes." I answered. Grateful the prison gave stationery free of charge.

He raised an eyebrow. "What's this for?" he asked, smiling weakly but interested no less knowing this was uncommon. I winced. He looked weaker by the day. But shrugged it off.

"Some chick wrote to me. So, I thought I'd be a polite gentleman and write her back." I said smoothly, catching his heavy gaze.

He looked at me and chuckled. "You a gentleman? HA! And what girls do you know that write letters? I thought the girls you hang out with barely read. I'm shocked they can write."

This was the only guy that can bring a smile to my face. A shiny penny in this dump.

"Well yeah. It's through this damn pen pal prisoners crap, I don't know the girl," trying to keep my tough guy exterior. I didn't want to show I was eager for this or anything.

"I didn't think you would register for something like that, you don't look – "

"I'm not the type." Completing his sentence. "And besides, I never registered. Damn admin did." I said, making him understand.

"Hmmm mmm." Jimmy said, raising an eyebrow, clearly not buying my story.

I chuckled. "Hey, I'm bored anyway. Why not give it a try?"

"Why not?" he agreed, reaching for the requested stationery and handing it to me.

"Thanks Jimmy, who knows what mischief I might get into with a new pen pal." I said with a wink.

Jimmy smiled and shook his head. "Happy writing and write more than one sentence please, and remember, don't scare the poor girl off," he chuckled behind me. I waved him off and walked back to my cell.

I placed the stationery on my desk and took a seat. I didn't know how to start this shit. Come to think of it, I had never written a letter before. This was totally out of my comfort zone, and I wasn't sure if I liked it. I bit my lip with my pen in my hand. I came out blank. What the hell do I say to this chick?

I decided to re-read the letter to look at the questions she asked. Hey maybe I can just answer her for now. I took a deep breath and started to write. 

Shit. 

This might be harder than I thought.

She asked if I was okay. I liked that. Nobody cared to ask such things. I checked the letter again. Her name was Lillie. My mind raced at what she might look like. A wicked grin slowly crawled up my face.

Well, well Miss Lillie Clarke, I might be okay now that you are writing.