When I calm myself down, I sit down in the chair and write her another letter. I don’t know where to send these and I doubt she’ll ever read them but I have to write them anyway. I have to tell her the truth.

The guards go through my letters.

Nothing in prison is private.

And any smart inmate would never put any of their past crimes on paper, substantiating them into existence, but I’m not smart.

And I don’t really care.

All I want is for Olive to get these letters somehow.

All I want is for her to know the truth about me.

I want her to know what I did and what I didn’t do.

I want her to know that I didn’t kill David and that I didn’t kill Nina.

I don’t know who did and I know that I look like the most likely suspect but I want her to believe me anyway.

After I finish the letter, I put it on top of the stack of the other ones next to my bed and lie down again.

I don’t know what time it is except that it must be day since the lights are still all on. That doesn’t stop me from lying down, covering myself with a sheet and closing my eyes. Times of day don’t matter much here. I am able to sleep anytime I want. The only problem is that I rarely can.

Sometime later, I open my eyes and nothing is different. The lights are still fluorescent and harsh and the time of day is still a mystery. It’s sometime between lunch and dinner, but when? I have no idea.

Whenever it is, I’m not going outside again today.

They either forgot or don’t care to take me there. I was looking forward to it even though it’s just walking around a larger cement cage in circles all by myself as a guard watches me from the tower.

I want to spend all of my days in bed, but it’s hard and uncomfortable and it makes my back and neck ache.

Besides, I feel my muscles atrophying with each passing day and I can’t let that happen. I get up and force myself to do push-ups.

I count to one-hundred and, by the time I get to the nineties, my form deteriorates.

Then I move on to jumping jacks.

Another hundred.

Sit-ups.

Another hundred.

I don’t feel the tightness in my stomach like I usually do, so I keep going to two hundred.

Who cares, right? Anything to pass the time.

Despite the physical pain, my thoughts come back to Olive.

I lose myself in that cottage by the sea.

I lose myself in her beautiful hair and her soft body.

I imagine our child and our dog and those chickens she is afraid of but secretly wants.