I was becoming nothing. I lost myself and it was his fault. He took everything from me. He took you from me.

That night he came home angry about something. He was so angry. He’d threatened to kill me before, and the last time he’d been so angry that he’d almost succeeded. He beat me so bad I lost consciousness for hours. He had a doctor come in from out of town. He paid him a lot of money to keep quiet. Ron told everyone I’d gone to a spa for a few weeks. He almost killed me and yet he told people he’d paid for me to go to a spa.

So I knew. I knew that night when he came home that he was going to kill me. I felt it coming. I can’t explain it. I just knew in my gut. He managed to get a few hits in before I got away from him and got to his gun. I knew where he hid it. I made sure I knew after that last time.

He sneered at me. Said I didn’t have the backbone to do it.

I shot him in the heart. And I was surprised. Really surprised when it killed him. I just wanted him to stop.

I shot him.

Please forgive me, George.

I feel guilty. Ashamed. I do. But I also feel relief that I’m free of him. Maybe if you forgive me, I can forgive myself.

Forever yours,

Sarah

I was surprised at the splash of water that fell on the paper and I jerked it away from my tears. The ache in my chest had intensified as I read the second letter and for the first time in a long time I cried. I cried for this faceless woman. I cried for the powerlessness, the pain, and the truthful shame of that freedom that Sarah’s words invoked.

My phone suddenly rang and I felt like I jumped a foot in fright. For a moment there, everything had disappeared, including the apartment.

Reaching into my purse for my cell, the irritation I felt at being interrupted melted away when I saw who was calling.

It was Matthew. Matthew and I had been friends for twenty-five years. He was the only remaining tie I had to my life back in Iowa.

“Hey, you.” I smiled.

“Hey, sorry for calling so late.”

“Don’t be. Is anything wrong?”

He heaved a heavy sigh, causing the line to crackle. “Helena’s mom has been admitted to the hospital with pneumonia.”

I knew Helena was close to her mom. “Oh, God. What are the doctors saying?”

“Well, we’re hoping she’ll pull through, but even then she’s looking at some recovery time. She’s going to stay with us during recovery.”

Suddenly I knew the other reason he was calling. Every year, during the anniversary of my sister’s death, I went on vacation. This year I couldn’t because my colleague, Dr. Whitaker, had already put in for her vacation for the weeks that I’d wanted. And she refused to even consider swapping vacation time. I hated the idea of working during what was always a hard time for me. The next best thing I could do was to plan a vacation with my best friend. In two weeks, I’d planned on meeting Matthew, Helena, and Perry in Key West for a shared vacation together. I never went home to Iowa, so these planned trips were the only chance we had to see each other.

Disappointed, but more concerned for Helena and her mom, I said, “Matt, it’s okay. If you contact the owner of the house we were renting and explain, we should get our money back.”

“I’m not worried about the money. I’m worried about you. It was our only chance this year to see each other.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll figure something else out.”

“You’ll call me when you do?”

Smiling at his overprotectiveness, I said, “Yes. But more importantly, keep me posted about Helena’s mom. And give my love to her and Perry.”

“I will. We’ll talk soon?”

I could still hear the anxiety in his voice and I wished I were a less complicated person so he could stop worrying about me. “I promise.”

Once we hung up I stared at Sarah’s last two letters.

An emptiness had struck me when I realized Matt was canceling, and it suddenly expanded and filled my chest. It was strange how such emptiness could cause an ache.

I didn’t know what I was going to do. I had my three-week vacation time to use up and I knew I couldn’t stick around Wilmington for it. I’d have to come up with a plan.

The thought exhausted me so instead I picked up the letters and started reading again.

Sarah Randall

Inmate No. 50678

Women’s Correctional and Rehabilitation Facility

Wilmington, DE 19801

May 5, 1976

My darling George,

I will mail these letters to you. I will. It’s just taking me time to find the strength. Now you’ll get them all at the same time. At least you won’t have to wait for the truth then. There will be no agonizing wait as I try to gather my courage to tell you what I need to tell you.

If I could save you from this truth I would. Perhaps it is selfish of me to tell you now, after all these years of protecting you, but it has taken me this long to realize that secrets are poison. You, of all people, are owed the truth.

I wish I had known then what I know now.

Everything would be so different.

Do you remember the weekend you went with your father to tour the Princeton campus? You were so excited. You’d never wanted anything more than to be a Princeton man. Except me, you said. You said you’d always want me more than anything.

Why didn’t I remember that then?

I am so sorry.

You were gone that weekend and that’s when Ron came to me. Remember he’d been bothering me for months, trying to get me to go out with him? He was becoming a problem. You two had that fight in Loretta’s the night he touched me. Everyone on the boardwalk was there to see you best Ron. He never forgave you for that. I sometimes wonder if he came after me just to get his revenge for that night.