Page 114 of I Will Break You

“And you hate me in equal measure?”

The corner of his lips lifts.

“What if I told you that I wasn’t trying to monetize our relationship?” I rasp.

“Then I would tell you to find a more convincing lie,” he replies.

Shudders seize my skeleton, and my heart rolls like a boulder toward my sinking stomach.

“Do you want me dead?” I ask.

“Where would the fun be in that, little ghost?” he replies witha smile. “You’ve slithered under my skin and invaded my soul. You’ve made me love you with all my heart.”

My breath catches. “That’s good, then?”

“That’s something a man can’t easily forgive,” he replies, his eyes hardening.

FIFTY-SEVEN

Alderney State Penitentiary,

Dear Amethyst,

By now, you’ve probably heard the news that my execution date has been brought forward. The warden called me into his office, saying that the New Alderney Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation has decided to set it in two weeks. I don’t know if it’s a coincidence or out of spite, but they intend to give me the electric chair on your birthday.

I wanted you to get this information in writing, so you could take time reading my request. Please do not mobilize the fan club to have my death sentence commuted to life imprisonment. I wasn’t just caught red-handed. The police found me clutching my stepmother’s still-beating heart.

There is no redemption for a soul as black as mine. I took delight in murdering her and her sons. I reveled in their terror and savored their pain. This execution must go ahead, even if it’s to rid the world of one corrupt spirit.

The warden has implored me not to incite riots, protests, or any civil unrest. In exchange for a discreet execution, he has granted me a request.

Three hours. Three hours before my demise in the electricchair, he will permit me a conjugal visit. He showed me the visitation room with a queen-sized bed, refrigerator, dining table, chairs, and a kitchenette.

Amethyst, he’s giving us a chance to be together before I die. I know you’re a recluse. I know you’re scared. I know you have trauma. I know some of the things we’ve discussed in our letters have been outlandish. But I swear to you, on my blackened soul, that if you agree to the conjugal visit, all I will give you is pleasure.

There is, however, one caveat:

New Alderney only grants conjugal visits to married couples, which means we would need to be wed. The warden has already discussed my situation with the prison’s chaplain, who has agreed to perform the ceremony only with a woman with whom I have a relationship.

Many have sent letters, but I have only replied to yours. You’re the only woman I’ve held in my heart. Marriage is a commitment. One that binds souls for a lifetime and beyond. I realize this is a lot of pressure and I will understand if you say no.

But if you agree to be my wife, if you agree to give this poor sinner your hand in marriage, it will give me the taste of heaven that will sustain my heart while my soul burns in hell.

You may ask why my execution was brought forward. Reading between the lines of the warden’s stuttered reply, I gathered that I was becoming a threat. Our platform triggered discussions across social media, activists raising the issues of inhumane conditions within the prison system, corrupt guards, violations of the Eighth Amendment, the American Correctional Association Standards, and the Nelson Mandela Rules.

The system doesn’t want the public to have sympathy for a convicted murderer or any other type of inmate. Those who control the prison industrial complex want people to forget about the souls trapped within its confines. It thrives on dehumanization, profits from the warehousing of humans, and is the truest form the United States has of modern-day slavery.

They don’t want people to know the inmates labor for the prison’s financial gain while being denied fair wages and basichuman rights. My execution will restore the public's indifference to their plight.

Read as much of this letter as you wish to the fans.

Love,

Xero

P.S. I won’t press for a reply to my proposal. Not even during our morning calls. I am very much an advocate of the silent no.

FIFTY-EIGHT