Dear Maria

It is my first day of incarceration. The solitary feeling inside this cell is nothing new because it is an emotion that I have grown accustomed to. The walls are grey, but I don't crave color, other than your charcoal hair. I seek no music because the only sound that would ever matter to me is your voice. I don't dream of soft mattresses, because the only soft thing I would ever happily lay my head on, is your lap.

Hey Maria, did you know how much I cared? But alas, I was a coward. I never voiced my feelings, because I knew, my face and intelligence were not enough to turn your head. I'm not implying you're vain, but I knew what a good person you were, and if I ever came up and confessed to you, your heart would never have the courage to hurt a misfit like myself. But I love you, that's why I never dared to put you in that situation. To watch you pity me, or worst, accept me but not out of love.

The night has fallen Maria, a bird found its way into my prison window. I'm staring at it while writing this letter. It keeps flapping its wings. I can't help but remember when we were six. A classmate of ours decided to play catch the butterfly. You were so thrilled. You joined in and spread your arms out while running around the playground pretending to flutter, screaming I'm a butterfly over and over. Your ebony hair swayed as you jumped off the earth in an attempt to recreate the insect you loved so much. But then you fell on your knees. I wanted to run to your side, but all the other kids have already gathered around you. You seemed comfortable with them, so I remained where I was. It was the first time I felt a stab in my heart. Your tears Maria, they were acid to me. Every time they fell, it left me with unimaginable pain. I never understood why at that time. How could I? We were young.

Hi, my love. It is my second day. There was a riot today. It started when a new inmate arrived and he happened to be from an enemy gang of an inmate we have here. Needless to say, they got to each other's faces and before we knew it, there were dead bodies on the floor. But don't be sad Maria, I'm happy here. As long as I know that you're living the life that you deserve.

Maria, I'm sorry if it took so long for me to write. You might be wondering why. Well, another riot broke out three months ago. When the guards came to end it, they punished everyone, myself included. But please don't fret. I wasn't part of the fight. I was, unfortunately, standing on the wrong side when the guards came. My fingers broke after one of the guards hit them with his baton. It took three months for it to fully heal. But don't worry, the tears shed for these broken bones are not yours, so I can confidently say. I'm okay. It doesn't hurt.

Love, there was an accident today. An inmate who missed his footing while mounting the stairs broke his leg. Everyone was worried for him, well maybe not everyone, but I was. It surprisingly reminded me of that time when you hurt your knee. Do you remember that Maria? We went on an excursion with our teacher. We were eight, I believe. They brought us to a botanical garden and someone pushed you. That caused you to fall hard on your knees. The swelling appeared in just minutes. You were crying so much. Your tears, they broke me again. I had no choice but to avenge you. You may not know it, but it was me who pushed Joseph. I know he ended up dead. But I never meant to Maria. I wasn't aware of the rake hidden behind those bushes. I never meant for it to impale him.

Pushing him was supposed to teach him a lesson, not to get him killed. However, as the other kids and teachers clamoured to the side of that dead boy, my eyes couldn't look at anywhere but your injured knee. My heart ached not for the bloody kid but for the pain that your injury might have been giving you. I couldn't help but hate that boy for dying there and taking the adults away from your side when they ran to his mangled body and left you with your injured knee. They should have stayed beside you and tended to you continously. You might think me heartless but that's how it was. Despite that though, I still think of Joseph sometimes. I do wonder what he would have been like if he had a chance to live.

Hi, dear, it's been a while. I know I haven't written anything in weeks. That's because I had my right arm broken again. No, it's not the guards this time. It was caused by an inmate. They were recruiting members for a gang inside the prison. I refused because I wanted to stay away from things like that. However, my refusal insulted them and I got a lot of beating for it. My arm suffered, but it's okay. Because once again, the tears that fell for this arm were not yours. So it's okay. I'm okay, as long as you're safe.

***

Mark stopped his reading when the scent of the warden's cigar filled the air. He coughed, desperate to dislodge the smoke trapped inside his throat. He was not a smoker, so he felt relatively sensitive to it.

"Can a child fall in love?" Harold suddenly asked. His voice, laden with curiosity and a hint of innocence, pierced through the tranquil silence that enveloped the room. His question lingered in the air, as if a delicate wisp of smoke, beckoning Mark's attention. Intrigued, Mark turned his gaze towards Harold, his eyes tracing the crease etched upon his senior's forehead, a telltale sign of profound pondering. In that fleeting moment, their minds converged, united by the shared enigma that now danced between them.

The warden shrugged his shoulders. "Who knows," he replied. Then with a subtle motion of his hand, like a conductor guiding an orchestra, urged Mark to resume his reading.

And so, Mark's eyes returned to the pages before him, but his thoughts remained tethered to the question that lingered in the air. In the smoke filled room, the rhythmic whisper of shuffling paper seemed to echo the beating of his heart.

Could a child truly fall in love? The question reverberated through Mark's consciousness, stirring dormant memories of fleeting infatuations and innocent yearnings that had colored his own youthful days. Shadows of emotion flickered across his mind, intertwining with the remnants of forgotten dreams and long-lost desires.

Love, that power force that transcended time and age, defied neat categorizations. A sweet tune that played in the hearts of all, regardless of their physical stature or chronological existence. However, at what point in one's lifetime can one truly assure that they are in love? In Mark's opinion, there are so many types of love that one cannot truly fathom which is true. There's love that isn't as deep. Love that is born of malice. Love that is forged by desire. Love that is necessity. Love that is curiosity. Or is love just love and does not need any other explanation? Maybe it's something that shouldn't even be questioned or dare defined.

Then in the quietude of that moment, Mark remembered something he once heard by passing. Love knows no boundaries, no constraints that could confine its essence. It whispers in the laughter of many, blooms in the petals of innocence, and dances in the twinkle of unclouded eyes. Love, in its purest form, is a celestial spark that could ignite even in the tender hearts of the young, casting its radiant glow upon the world.

But was that the answer to the question? Can a child truly fall in love? The entire situation was causing his mind to work harder than it ever had.

"Any minute now."

The warden's voice worked like a powerful whip that yanked Mark out of his musings. So he nodded in aquiscence, shook his head to clear his thoughts and read on as his fingers gently caressed the edges of the paper.

***

(Letter continuation)

Maria, I have some good news for you. I was listed as one of the well-behaved inmates. They gave me the privilege to roam the prison grounds. With snipers all over the walls of course, but it's a mileage compared to the suffocating confines of my small cell. I get to stretch my legs freely and breathe in the fresh air. Are you happy for me? It's alright if you're not. That's okay, as long as you keep your tears at bay.

I saw a butterfly today. Can you imagine that? A butterfly, fluttering inside the prison grounds. It looked magnificent. No wonder you love those creatures. But it also reminded me of the time when you fell off a tree. You were so desperate to catch that butterfly. When you fell, I thought my world came crashing down.

Maria, it's nighttime here. There's a tranquil aura in the atmosphere, a couple of prisoners said they would probably sleep peacefully tonight. Would you like to know why? It's because the dreaded gangs inside this prison are all in solitary confinement. The peaceful atmosphere at this moment reminds me of that time when you won the school science fair. You were so happy. Your smile was bright and infectious. The air around you was so pure. I couldn't keep my eyes off of you. I believe we were eleven years old. Did you know Maria, at that moment in my life, it felt like I was watching a movie, and you, its only cast.

Dear, I won't be writing to you anytime soon. I have decided to write you a letter once a year. But don't worry, it will contain every detail about that entire year. So you don't have to wonder if I'm okay. I'm okay Maria. As long as you are.

Love forever
Your Silent Knight

***

"That's the end of it, " Mark murmured as he placed the letter on his lap.

Eager to express his thoughts, Harold locked eyes with the warden. "I think these are just ramblings of a love-sick criminal. I don't expect us to find anything here."

The warden shook his head in response, ignoring the man's opinion and then commanded him to pick up the next letter.