Screaming in the Silence (24 page)

Beyond the kitchen was the dining room, a dark room with chocolate walls and gold place settings. It looked undisturbed and very formal, perhaps only used for holidays and fancy dinner parties. A glass chandelier hung from the ceiling and the light from the one window on the far side of the room reflected around the crystals like a game of light tag. I knew that Kaden would only use this formal a room if forced to do so.

I turned back toward the foyer, opening the kitchen window on my way, and peered down the hallway. Pictures hung on the walls and I tiptoed to the first one. I recognized Kaden instantly. He was young, a boyish smile on his face as he stood in a small boat, proudly holding a fishing pole in one hand and a large catfish in the other. His bright orange life jacket nearly smothered him. I wondered if the picture had been taken at the same lake where we saw the blue heron.

The next photo was a family portrait. Kaden was absolutely his father's son. They shared the same strong features, the same dark hair and flawless skin, and the same smile. But he had his mother's eyes. Her light brown hair fell to her shoulders. She sat between her two men, her hands gently folded in her lap. She looked elegant and refined with a single strand of pearls around her neck. Her kind, green eyes sparkled with mischief and the crooked grin on her face let everyone know that she was in charge of this family.

I walked slowly down the hall, examining each and every photo: Kaden's high school graduation, family vacations, a wedding portrait of his mom and dad - each framed memory helped paint the picture of Kaden's past. I realized I really knew very little about this man. Is this what he enjoyed doing in his spare time? Fishing and traveling? I now had two versions of Kaden. The first was the man I loved, the one who had hurt me yet protected me, fought for me and gave up everything just so he could be with me. The second was a stranger. He looked like Kaden, but I knew nothing about him. I didn't know his life, I didn't know his dreams or ambitions. I wanted to believe that with time, these two men would become one but I knew I had so much more to learn.

The first door I came to turned out to be nothing more than a linen closet, towels and extra bedding folded neatly on the shelves. The next was a large bedroom with an ornate four post bed, the wood carved into various designs. The windows were closed and when I flipped the light switch, nothing happened. I crossed the hardwood floor and opened the shutters, warm sunlight instantly flooding the space. The bed and a small dresser were the only pieces of furniture in the room. The closet was open and empty and there were small holes in the walls where more pictures used to hang. This must have been a guest room or his parent's master bedroom. I opened the window to remove the dust from the sill and left the door open before returning to the hallway.

I came to a small parlor next. The walls were a delicate blue and the white furniture made the sitting room look clean and polished. I held my breath at the last door, knowing that it had to be Kaden's room. The handle stuck so I had to push to open the door. The walls were painted nearly the same shade of grey as his room back at the lake. There were no pictures or photographs. The green quilt on the bed was soft and I lifted one of the pillows, pressing the soft down to my face and inhaling deeply, hoping to smell remnants of him.

I clung to the pillow, smiling. Kaden's bookshelf was next. It reached to the ceiling and spanned nearly the entire wall. Hardbacks and leather bindings with French and English titles were arranged by what appeared to be genre, though I didn't recognize half of them; loose-leaf notebooks lay on the bottom shelf. I picked up the first one, what appeared to be the oldest, and flipped through the pages, the date at the top from ten years ago. Kaden's penmanship looked very much the same although not as neat as it had been in the letter he sent. The pages were filled with his lessons, all in French, which I couldn't read.

His closet was next and I opened the large doors, not at all surprised to find only a few items hanging inside. A cardboard box had been taped shut and shoved to one side and a few pairs of shoes were neatly lined up on the shelf just above my head.

I turned around and walked to the window, finally opening the shutters so the sun could spill in. Being in his room only made me miss him more. It was like he was a ghost and I could almost feel his presence watching me as I poked through his things. But I knew he was alive and well, most likely sitting in his prison cell, perhaps thinking about me. I didn't like to think about Kaden in prison but the alternative was to imagine him here with me and that pushed me a little too close to the edge of insanity. He was there in my dreams and beside me when I closed my eyes.

I placed the pillow back on the bed and stripped down to my underwear. I placed my jeans and sweater on the chair next to the window and grabbed one of Kaden's shirts from his closet, pulled it over my shoulders and fastened the middle buttons. I wandered to the foyer and picked up the stack of letters from the table, flipping through them on my way back to Kaden's room. They were all addressed to the Prideaux's apartment, attention: Current Resident. I recognized Kaden's handwriting and saw that the return address was the North Carolina State Penitentiary.

Sitting on the bed, I spread the letters out in front of me. There were dozens of them and I gazed over the envelopes, trying to decide which one to open first. I ultimately decided that I should organize them by date and I squinted to read the small numbers printed on the seal. Opening the first letter, I couldn't even feel my hands ripping through the envelope. I unfolded the paper as if in a trance and smiled at my name written on the top of the page.

Dear
Raleigh
,

This is the first time I've been allowed to write to anyone. It's been almost three weeks since I last saw you and the pain has increased to an almost unbearable level. But I don't remember a time when my conscience has been so clear. I know that you are probably livid right now and you have every right to be angry at me. You know why I did it, though, and I hope that one day you can forgive me.

My days are spent sitting in my cell and thinking about you, thinking about our time together. I often have to remind myself that I am at fault because it's so easy to blame everyone else. Sometimes I blame you for being so beautiful, for being on the side of the road that night, for not fighting me off when you should have. More often than not, I blame Ray for being so drunk, for scaring you so badly that you sought comfort from me, probably the worst person for the job of protector. Rarely do I blame Marshal for being weak and not standing up to me or his brother. But I've made my confession and won't recant it. I'm eager to plead guilty in front of a judge so that I can begin my sentence. I don't know how long it is going to be, but it will be a welcome relief when I can point to a date on a calendar and know that is the day I can be free again.

I'm not sure what else to say. I'm not even sure why I wrote this letter. Everything is still so up in the air - in transition - and I can't even think clearly. But writing to you, even though I know there is only a small possibility you will ever read it, reminds me that I have something to anchor to, something that will keep me sane.

I love you.

You are my everything.

Kaden

My hands flew to the next letter and I tore into it, ripping the paper from the envelope.

Dear
Raleigh
,

I was sentenced today. My lawyer struck a deal with the judge and I plead guilty to rape and kidnapping. Does it hurt to see those words written on paper? I almost couldn't write them because I've started to forget all of the bad things that happened and only choose to remember the good. I can't help but wonder which parts you are remembering, if any. Maybe you've pushed the entire time from your mind as a defense against the pain I caused you. I suppose I would deserve that just as much as I deserve my four year sentence. It should have been seven years but the lesser time is contingent on my testimony during Ray's trial. I'm not expected to lie or embellish, they just want me to take the witness stand. They say that if I do a good job, I'll be eligible for parole after twenty-four months. I didn't ask what would qualify as a good job because I only want to tell the truth, with no hidden agenda.

It's hard to believe that in a few months I'll be testifying against my best friend. I know that Marshal has been asked to do the same thing and I've encouraged him to go ahead and do it. Is it wrong to persuade him to stand against his brother? I don't think it is. Ray is no longer the same person he once was.

I'm trying to prevent myself from hoping that that you will be at the trial. I'm trying to convince myself that you will give your testimony and then leave for
Delaware
without sticking around to hear the verdict. I'll only be there to give my testimony. I may not even hear about the outcome for days after the trial has ended. I don't know if you've found the key I left in your bag. You may have thrown everything away, but if you haven't and if you read this before the trial, please know that everything I say up on that stand is going to be the truth. There's a lot that I didn't tell you about. I know you are very perceptive, but there are some things which I would rather keep hidden from you, some things which might scare you to this day. So hold on to whoever is there with you, know that you are safe and that I love you and that everything I do, every thought in my head is for you.

I love you.

You are my everything.

Kaden

I waded through the envelopes until I found one that had been dated just after the trial. My eyes were dry because I hadn't blinked and my head spun with emotions I couldn't even begin to organize. Twenty four months? In less than two years he could be out. I didn't know how I wanted to feel about that. It scared me to imagine that I could run into him out of the blue, once I had put my life back together. It excited me to think that I could be with him, back in his arms in less time that it took to for me to obtain a graduate degree.

Dear
Raleigh
,

God, how I miss you. Seeing you today was the greatest gift I could have received but also the greatest pain I've ever felt. You look exactly how I thought you would though I'm happy to see that you are still wearing your hair in curls. You are still every bit the girl I fell in love with, the girl I love to this day. I could tell from the second I saw you that you hadn't found my key and letter, which doesn't surprise me. I hope you picked up on my hint though. I could see the wheels in your head turning.

The pain and confusion on your face when I spoke about the last night we spent together nearly broke me, Blondie. I didn't tell you about it at the time because I didn't want to scare you. I thought I was going to lose you that night. The look in Ray's eyes didn't leave a doubt in my mind that he was capable of shooting you. He asked if I had any last words to say to you and so I reached for your face and told you that I loved you. What it was about that statement that made him change his mind, I will never know. But he left and I screamed at the top of my lungs because I knew what I would have to do. I knew that turning myself in would be difficult, leaving you would be nearly impossible. But I'm hopeful now. You've given me hope.

Can you imagine what it would be like if we were still together? If we were on the run, completely lost to those who once knew us? I don't know how long it would have lasted. I'd like to think that you wouldn't grow sick of me and my endless need to protect you from everything. You'd yell at me constantly and I'd yell back because I wouldn't know what else to do. Then one day you would leave me. But I think you would keep our secret. I don't think you would turn me in.

Until I saw you today, I hadn't allowed myself to think about what could happen four years from now. I know that I should leave you be, I know that I shouldn't hope for a reunion of any kind. You're well aware that what we had together wasn't in your best interests and I certainly don't deserve a second chance. But the look on your face when I was leaving the courtroom said it all. I know that I've created demons for you, demons which you now have to live with on a daily basis because you know that loving me is wrong. But it won't always be, I promise you that. I promise that I will live the rest of my life trying to be the person you deserve, regardless of if I ever get to see you again.

I love you, Raleigh. I love you so much and just knowing that you love even a small part of me - the wrong side of me - is worth my wait here in prison.

You are and will always be my everything.

Kaden

I spent the rest of the afternoon going through each and every letter. I cried when he spoke of how much he missed me, how he thought about me constantly, how he tortured himself by remembering the horrible things he had done to me. But I smiled when he talked about how he dreamt of me, how whenever he closed his eyes, I was there by his side.

He spoke often about his life in prison: how he had become used to the routine, how he had made friends with some of the other inmates. He was teaching his cellmate how to speak French. In some letters he would just tell me stories about his childhood, his years at college. He claimed that these memories, which had seemed so insignificant, were now his most prized possessions. Some of the men inside had nothing but horrible pasts filled with hate and crime. But Kaden had been happy once and he had me and his memories to get him through the days.

My stomach was rumbling by the time I put down the last of his letters. The sun began to set over Paris and I stood up to get dressed. I wandered through the streets until I found a small market where I bought some groceries. I didn't know how long I would be staying here. It could be days. It could be months. I might never leave.