The breeze that licked over the San Fernando prison walls started to take flight. The howling and persistent slaps of wind sent the mighty walls to emit an ominous sound. The prisoners who were once busy mocking each other's fate were finally in a stupor, cowering behind the thin blanket that barely gave them comfort. The guards on duty gathered that they may not be able to leave the prison grounds any time soon. So, they decided to amuse themselves with stories and card games.
***

Inside the warden's office. Mark and Harold kept their gaze outside the office window. Both worried about the unforeseen weather that settled within their site.

"Should I start reading or are the two of you planning on bathing under the rain?" Warden Protacio asked, startling the two dazed guards.

Harold cleared his throat and then asked the warden if he could step outside for a bit. The warden nodded and also asked Mark to take a break.

When both men left the office, they resolved to sit on the metal chairs positioned near the secretary's desk. It was Mark who spoke first. "I have to call my wife and tell her I can't make it home tonight."

Harold threw Mark an affronting look. Hours ago, the young guard could barely hold a conversation with his wife, but now?

"You do love her, don't you?" Harold asked. His question obtained a curious-eyed response from his co-worker.

"Yes, I love her. Why did you even ask?" Mark inquired.

"Nothing, just some thoughts I blurted out." His senior answered.

After a few minutes, both men stepped back inside the office and took a seat. Mark seized the one near the window, while Harold settled into the chair in front of the warden's desk.

"Alright, if the two of you had your fill of silence, I suppose, we can proceed with the letters."

After Protacio gave his two cents, he immediately began to read.

***

Dear Maria,

I'm sorry for the outburst. I have read through my previous letter. I thought about changing it but decided otherwise. If you want to know why that is. It's because the letter showed various emotions in me. I'm happy about it. I realized I'm still alive after all.

I truly regret the things I've said. But what's the point in glazing sugar over them? I blame the stillness of the night and the endless silence that is pushing me to deafness. I cannot express how I truly feel my love. I think the grey walls had decided to lock in, all of my suppressed emotions, haunting me by way of endless dreams.

Maria, do you remember when you joined the cheerleading squad? I brought it up because an inmate happened to be a good contortionist. He was imprisoned due to burglary.
Similar to the case my father committed.

I remember how high they would throw you in the air. Yet, you always managed to land gracefully. You would bend and shout while suspended in the atmosphere, cheering the name of our school.

Hey Maria, it's raining today. The first one of the year. I stuck my hand out the window just to feel the cold water splash through my fingers. It's funny how I barely took notice of its beauty years ago. But don't worry dear, it's okay, I'm okay.

Maria, was I fifteen when my father robbed the town's bank? I guess I was. Because your incident happened when we were sixteen, right? I'm sorry if I brought it up again. Did you know, Maria, that despite our revenge, it never gave me peace? What happened to you lingered inside me. I forever breathe the thoughts of your misfortune inside my head.

Why do I keep bringing it up?

Because my recent dreams are all about that day. The dreams keep shoving me to that scene.

In my dream, I managed to save you. I was there. I never left.

I'm sorry Maria, but I couldn't let go of that dream. All the others I managed to apprehend by willing them away from my thoughts. But not this one. Although it marked the darkest hour of your life. It was the only time where I felt your arms around me.

Are you wondering what I mean?

In the dream, when I saved you, you ran up to me, sweetly said thank you, and then hugged me. It's not that I can't let go of the dream. It's because I can't give up on your warmth.

I know it's not real. But still, it's the best I ever got.

Hi Maria, how are you? How are the kids? I hope you're doing well. It's my birth month. I wonder if anyone remembers? My mother, perhaps, or my father? But they are both in heaven. I was never blessed with siblings, so I guess there is no one then?

Maria? Do you remember Oscar? The boy who sat at the back of the class? We have been classmates with him since preschool. Why did I bring him up? Oh, I found him. He is housed on the fourth floor. Yes, Maria, he is with me, in prison. You must remember him. You must remember him.

Hey Love, Merry Christmas! I hope you managed to prepare all of the dishes you planned to spread on the table. I hope you were able to fill the bottom of the tree with various gifts. I wish you had a great year. I hope you and the kids have a great 1975!

I'm still here Maria... I will always be here. I still love you. Still praying for your safety.

Love forever
Your Silent Knight.

***

"Can we cut this crap now?" Harold immediately sneered when the warden laid the letter on his desk.

"Why are you so against this Harold?" Protacio asked while attempting to take another stick of cigar. But Harold grabbed the pack and yelled, "Because this makes no sense."

Warden Protacio had his eyebrow arched as he retorted, "Man must learn to get in touch with their heart once in a while."

"By getting in touch, you mean reading and listening to a dead man's desperation for love? You're sick, warden."

Mark was silent but his head was running through a series of questions. Unlike the warden's or Harold's squabble about the letter, Mark's thoughts were with 247. The old man, Mark, rarely spoke with him, but 247 held the respect of some inmates and the warden, too, if he may say so himself. He felt curious. Was the old man truly good with words? The letters appeared deep, not one you would expect from a convicted murderer. Was he so obsessed with Maria that he had to kill her husband? But he loved her. There must have been a deeper reason for the murder if he did commit it, that's why he had taken the husband out of the picture. Was it his love for her?

But if that was the case, why didn't he claim her? Why did he allow himself to be caught by the authorities? Was the warden right all along? Did Maria have something to do with her husband's death? Was she a conspirator and then 247 took the blame? But why would 247 say that she didn't know him? How could two people conspire about something without conversing with each other?

"Hey kid, are you okay?" the question barely made it into Mark's ears. He took himself out of his musings and focused back on the warden who was readily awaiting his reply. "I'm okay," he finally answered as he took the fifth letter that Harold was holding out for him.