The silence inside warden Protacio's office, felt eerier as he folded the letter in his hands. A man, how does a man love? Is there a specific definition to it? Love is a complex thing, made even more complex by the perplexity of the humans who bore it. There are many ways to love a person. Protacio loved his wife, even if he failed to say the words every day. He may not have acted sweet towards her, but never was the flame of his love diminished.

The warden took out another pack of cigars from his drawer. He lit one, and as he blew out his first puff, the fog-like substance seemed like a definition of his love for the wife he had lost. The smoke, its visibility only lasted for a few seconds, until it completely vanished from sight. But the effects it had on the person it came from, definitely left a mark. A certain spot inside the chest, and even with the lack of visibility, the smoke remained. It lingered and attached itself to everything that surrounded the person where it originated.

Protacio smiled to himself. That was probably the closest and the only identifiable expression he could use to describe his love for Amara, the wife whom he would have killed to protect, only to be taken by something like a car crash. The warden threw the folded letter on top of his desk and wondered if he was 247, what would he have done? What would he do if Amara was raped on the day, he decided to ask her out? Would he have run like 247? Probably not. But freedom was a luxury that 247 lacked at that time. If his father was hunted by the law, then what possible choice could the teen have had? He must have been scared and filled with questions himself.

A teen, Protacio's heart suddenly felt a prickling sensation in it. His son is now sixteen. Would his son withstand the things 247 endured; the decisions he made or the path he decided to take at an early age?

The warden leaned back on his reclining chair then hoisted his feet up and landed both of them on top of his desk. He took the eighth letter from the pile and began to read.
***

Dear Maria,

How are you? I would like to continue from where I left off. I know, this part of my letter might sound disturbing to you. Maybe the others already had, but still, I want you to know.

I stayed inside the run-down cabin near the stream. Do you remember that cabin? It's the one old Rodolfo built when he decided to become a hermit. I'm sure you can remember the story of old Rodolfo. He was the embodiment of nightmares for us kids. He was the persona used to lure us away from the stream by the adults.

The day after your assault, I lingered around the subdivision, hiding behind the bushes and trees, and kept my ears open for any news about you. The businessman Mr. Ching, was the first to offer news, although I didn't speak to him in person, I heard him say that the electrician managed to escape. He was telling his friend over a cup of coffee how the man managed to flee from town, while everyone was busy comforting your mother.

I regretted the weakness I felt that day Maria. If I had decided to search for that man on that very same day. I could have avenged you sooner. He never would have had the chance to flee.

I hope you can forgive my moment of weakness. But don't worry, as I stated in my previous letter. I have avenged you.

Before I left San Ignacio, I came to visit you inside the hospital. Well, probably not as a visitor but as someone pretending to be a nurse. I had to. I couldn't leave without knowing how you were.

But I wish I hadn't. I should have listened to my instinct. I knew I would never have the mental or emotional courage to see you broken. But like the fool that I was, I went anyway.

I used the employee's entrance to elude any suspicion of me and took one uniform from a locker inside the employee's lounge.

You're probably wondering how I managed to do those. It's because I was familiar with the hospital's floor plan. My mother worked there as a janitor. I bet you can tell who I am now right? I'm sure there is no doubt in your head. My mother was the only janitress in our subdivision. Do you remember who I am now? If you still find it hard to guess, that's okay.

I'm not someone you must spend time brooding over.

As I've mentioned, I wish I had never come to visit, because what greeted me inside that hospital room, was someone I barely recognized and it broke me further.

You looked so beaten, lifeless, hurt, and suffering.

In my eyes, the tube in your mouth looked painful. The needle stuck on your arm seemed like a foreign thing that was meant to hurt you. The numerous gauze that was wrapped around your leg looked constricting. I hope, they had the mind not to bind it tightly. I feared it could obstruct your blood flow.

Did they Maria? Did they bind it just right?

I kept staring at you, even if it only increased the torment I was experiencing. I kept swearing in front of your unconscious body, that I would take revenge for you. I would make him suffer a million folds. I had to make him pay.

You must be thinking how weird it was to have someone watching over you while you were sleeping, and had just survived a vicious attack.

Don't worry, I didn't stay there any longer than I should. I left almost as soon as I entered. I couldn't risk you or anyone from your family seeing me. I needed to avenge you first.

I didn't waste any time after leaving your hospital bed. I immediately broke into the house of Mrs. Esmeralda. I deem you understand why right? She housed that man, that bastard, that monster who took your innocence.

She must have been smart to play the cops whom I'm certain, interviewed her, but not me. Oh, not me Maria. The rage inside my chest was too stubborn to be ignored.

Mrs. Esmeralda immediately confessed that Andrew, that bastard of an electrician had a family in a town called Sitio Ildefonso.

After her confession, I left her with a promise that I would take her life if she breathes a word about our encounter. I'm certain she kept it a secret. She was petrified.

I had no idea where Andrew's Town was, luckily, I had enough money to get to anywhere I wanted.

How?

Well, have you forgotten that my father robbed a bank? He got a huge amount. I had enough money to give you a comfortable life. If only, I made it on time.

I was planning to return, Maria. Once I was done with our revenge. I wanted to face you proudly and say that I have avenged you, that there was nothing left for you to fear. But, I guess I truly was never meant for you.

It took me two years to track him down. When I did, he turned me into a monster, far crueler than I could ever have imagined.

He was living a peaceful life! He had a son, a wife, and a house. On the day I decided to kill him, he was smiling on his porch as he waved at his wife and kid goodbye like he did nothing cruel to an innocent girl!

How could he Maria?

How could he be allowed to have a happy life?

How could he have the right to smile?

How could he have the luxury to sleep peacefully at night, when he had done you so wrong!

How could he continue with life, like he was free of sin?

I don't think I could ever find the words to describe how I felt that day. All I know is, that I walked up to him with a knife in my hand. He asked who I was. I never gave him an answer. There was no need for him to know. He needed to wonder why he was suffering. Why he was being stabbed and skinned?

Dumb and mute, questioning and confused, much like how you must have felt when he raped you, beat you, and left you like a spent-out whore! That's how he should be.

He needed to die wondering. He needed to walk the pits of hell without a single clue as to why he was delivered to Satan in such a cruel way.

But he did leave me a mark. I'm sure I have professed that bit of information in my previous letters.

When he died. In a final act of cruelty, I left his body inside his living room for his family to see.

Merry Christmas Maria! Your kids are probably all grown up now. Are they spending Christmas with you? I hope they are. I hope your children are giving you the love that you rightfully deserve. I hope they don't go astray.

Love forever

Your Silent Knight.