the asylum

when i got home last tuesday - the day of my last entry - i opened my front door to find a letter with my name and address written across the front sitting on the carpet, waiting for me. it was familiar, but i didn't recognise it.

i remember picking it up and turning it round with my fingers; intrigued. the postage mark said Anglia. whoever sent it knew that my middle name is May. i sat down at my dining room table and looked at it for a while. i started to feel ill. i wasn't sure why though.

i opened it.

Hello Hannah - sorry, Princess Hannah. Guess who? Anthony. Guess where I am?

Colchester Prison.

he has this cruel way of making me feel so bad for him when he's in trouble. apart from the phone call a few weeks ago, this was the only time he'd contacted me for months. now, though, he needed something. you see? now, he's lonely. now, he doesn't have victoria there. now, he's bored.

the next day i went out and bought the magazines and the stamps he asked for. after my english exams i sat in a cafe in durham waiting for my bus to arrive. i wrote him a letter. then ripped it up. and another. and ripped it up. i was so angry in those letters. i talked about me and him and victoria and adam. and dalziel. i was so angry.

in the next letter i stuck to safe topics. my exams. the moving date. my dog, lucky. his mother. his uncle. it was all so fake. he'll know that when he reads it. when i send it, of course.

the night before i received his letter i dreamt about him. he was in a mental asylum and he asked me to visit him. i did. everything was grey. it was raining outside. he was crying. he couldn't stand up because he was so weak. i sat down beside him.

he told me i had to prove to everyone that he wasn't crazy. they'd made a mistake. i should have been there instead. he begged me to confess. i stood up and walked away. and left him there. my footsteps echoed and his wailing pierced my ears. and i smiled.

he deserves everything he gets.