Time flowed differently in Lawrence prison.
Michael Reigns had seen that during his two years in prison.
The days blended into an endless gray mass, only occasionally diluted by the occasional incident.
A fight in the messaul, a new prisoner, a search, and again a monotony that made me want to howl.
The outreach program seemed to Michael like a waste of time.
Another initiative of the administration to pretend they cared about socialization.
He had filled out the form only at the social worker’s insistence, not giving much thought to the answers.
Who would even want to write to a man convicted of robbery? The first letter from Alex arrived on Wednesday.
Plain white envelope, neat handwriting, nothing special, just a polite greeting, a few questions about life, and an offer of friendship.
But there was something in those lines, a sincerity that was sorely lacking behind prison walls.
I chose you randomly from a list, but I believe there are no accidents.
Maybe we both need someone to talk to.
I’m a little lonely in this huge city, too, to be honest.
Michael reread the letter three times before deciding to reply.
He didn’t know what to write.
Years of imprisonment had narrowed his vocabulary to a collection of prison jargon, but something compelled him to spend the entire evening composing the letter, crossing out and rewriting every sentence.
Thank you for your letter.
I didn’t expect anyone to write.
Time drags like a rubber band around here, so any news from the outside is like a breath of fresh air.
Gradually, the formal tone gave way to a more personal Alex talked about her work as a graphic designer, her love of old movies, her small apartment overlooking the park.
Michael shared memories of his life before prison, dreams of the future, even fears he never admitted to any of his cellmates.
Three months later, they were on a first-name basis.
Five months later, Michael caught himself thinking he was living from letter to letter for a week.
You know, I never thought I’d say this, but sometimes I think you understand me better than anyone ever has, he wrote once and froze, staring at the lines.
He hadn’t allowed himself such revelations before.
In December, the photo arrived.
Michael took a long look at the girl with a soft smile and shoulderlength brown hair.
intelligence shown in her eyes and the slight tilt of her head gave her whole appearance a touching vulnerability.
That’s me.
Thought you might like to see who you’ve been texting with all this time.
Not the best picture, but I don’t have another one yet.
The photo took pride of place above Michael’s bed.
The cellmates chuckled at first, then began to respectfully inquire, who was she? This girl who wrote such long letters.
My girlfriend, Michael answered, surprised at these words.
But every day they sounded more and more natural.
In the spring, their letters changed.
Now they were filled with plans, dreams, confessions.
Alex described how she envisioned their first meeting after Michael’s release.
And he talked about a lakehouse where they could live.
I think of you every night when I fall asleep.
I imagine your voice.
I wonder what it’s like.
Is it high or low? Do you speak fast or slow? Do you laugh as easily as you write? Michael asked.
With each letter, Alex sent new pictures.
Michael saw her in different outfits with different hairstyles, but always with the same soft smile that now often appeared in his dreams.
“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, and the smartest and the kindest,” he wrote, not embarrassed by his frankness.
Alex responded with increasingly warm words.
But sometimes her letters were tinged with some inexplicable sadness.
Once she wrote, “Sometimes I’m afraid that when we meet, something will change, that you’ll see the real me and be disappointed.
Michael didn’t understand those fears.
Alex was already real to him, more real than the concrete walls around him or the bars on the windows.
You’re the only thing keeping me afloat.
Without your letters, I’d have gone crazy here a long time ago.
You can’t disappoint me.
I know you better than I’ve ever known anyone else.
” Over the summer, Michael did what he had not long ago thought impossible.
In a letter he rewrote seven times, he asked, “Will you marry me? I know it sounds crazy.
I’m here and you’re there, but I need to know that I have a future, that we have a future.
” The answer came 2 weeks later, the longest two weeks of Michael’s life.
The envelope was thicker than usual.
Inside was a ring, a simple silver ring on a chain.
Yes, a thousand times.
Yes, I’ll wait for you as long as it takes.
They were married in a month.
A strange ceremony with paperwork signatures and no chance to even hug each other.
But for Michael, it was more real than any other wedding.
After that, their letters became even more intimate.
Michael didn’t hesitate to express his desires, his physical longing for the wife he had never held in his arms.
Alex responded fondly, but always steered the conversation away from the subject of physical intimacy to talk about feelings, thoughts, dreams.
“When I get out, I’ll kiss you for hours.
I want to explore every inch of your body,” Michael wrote.
“I dream of just hearing your voice, to feel your hand in mine.
Sometimes I think that would be enough,” Alex replied.
The prison social worker, observing this unusual romance, offered to arrange a personal visit.
Such an opportunity existed for married inmates with good behavior.
Michael grasped the idea like a drowning man grasping at straws.
Alex responded with less enthusiasm.
I’m not sure I’m ready.
Don’t get me wrong.
I long to see you, but it’s so hard.
Michael didn’t understand her doubts.
He begged.
He persuaded.
He insisted.
Letter after letter, he drew pictures of their meeting, swore eternal love, promised that nothing would change his feelings.
Finally, Alex agreed.
Okay, I’ll come back in a month on the first Saturday in October.
Just please remember that I’m very nervous.
The last weeks before the meeting, Michael lived like a fog.
He counted down the days, hours, minutes.
He reread all Alex’s letters again, looked at her photos, trying to memorize every feature.
The day before the appointment, Alex sent one last letter.
Beloved, tomorrow I will see you for the first time.
My hands are shaking as I write these lines.
I have something to tell you, but I don’t know how.
There are some things that are hard to explain on paper.
Please, no matter what happens tomorrow, remember, everything I wrote about my feelings was true.
Every word, I love you with all my heart.
I always will.
Michael reread the letter several times, but still didn’t understand what Alex wanted to say.
What secret could be so important? Maybe she was having some kind of relationship on the side.
Or was she afraid she wouldn’t like him outwardly? These thoughts seemed absurd.
Nothing could change his feelings for the woman who had become his salvation within these walls.
That night, Michael couldn’t sleep.
He lay staring at the ceiling, imagining their meeting, the touch of her hands, the sound of her voice.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow he would finally see his wife, his Alex, his future.
Mornings at Lawrence Prison began as usual with the metallic clang of doors and the sharp voice of the warden announcing the rise.
But for Michael, this day was special.
Today, after 17 months of correspondence, he would finally see Alex.
Kevin Harding, his cellmate, stretched out on the top bunk and grinned as he looked at Michael, who was smoothing his hair for the third time in front of the tiny metal mirror.
“A date with the wife?” Kevin grinned.
“Ready for battle, soldier?” Michael remained silent, but his heart was beating fast and loud.
Tonight, tonight he would touch her, hear her voice, smell her scent.
“Hey, relax.
” Kevin jumped off the bunk and stepped closer.
The first date after a wedding is always nerve-wracking.
But remember what I told you.
He lowered his voice.
If a chick comes to a man’s jail cell, she’s ready.
They’re all like that.
They play hard to get, but they really want the same thing.
Michael shrugged uncertainly.
Alex wasn’t like the women Kevin had told him about.
She was special, subtle, understanding, but somewhere in the back of his mind there was doubt.
For 17 months, he’d dreamed of her, imagined their intimacy, written about his desires.
Wasn’t it natural that today those dreams would finally come true? You have a room for intimate visits, don’t you? Kevin persisted.
Consider yourself lucky.
The bed’s like a cheap motel bed, but it’s better than the iron table in the common room.
In the dining room at breakfast time, the chatter only intensified.
Johnny, who was sitting across the table, was laughing loudly and expressively, moving his pelvis in an act of intercourse.
Show her whose boss reigns, shouted someone from a neighboring table.
You bet, said another prisoner.
After so many months without a woman, I wouldn’t let her out of bed.
Michael tried to smile and joke, but a strange tension was building inside.
On the one hand, these people were right.
He was hungry for a woman’s warmth, for intimacy.
On the other hand, he wanted their first meeting with Alex to be special, not just to satisfy a physical hunger.
Listen carefully, Reigns.
Kevin leaned over to him before they were separated into their cells.
Don’t let her lead.
This is your territory, your rules.
If she starts to break, just take what’s yours.
She’ll thank you later for being a man instead of a slobbering puppy.
” Michael nodded, partly to get out of it, partly because Kevin’s words resonated with the primitive instincts at the back of his mind.
A 100 km from Lawrence prison, Alex stood in front of the mirror in the cramped bathroom.
Her long fingers fumbled with the last buttons of her pale blue blouse, her face, framed by brown hair, looked drained and pale.
“He’ll understand,” Alex whispered to her reflection.
“He has to understand.
After all, he loves me.
Not my body, me.
But the fear wouldn’t let go.
17 months of love, of trust, of hope, and it could all come crashing down today.
She should have told him sooner.
From the beginning, but at first it seemed like they were just texting, nothing serious.
Then the feelings came so unexpected and strong, and then it was too late.
How could she explain in a letter what she could hardly explain in person? Alex touched the silver ring hanging on the chain around her neck.
Their ring, a symbol of a promise she wasn’t sure she could keep.
Honey, you’re going to be late.
Her mother’s voice from behind the door brought Alex back to reality.
I’m on my way, Mom.
The drive to the prison took 2 hours.
Elellanar was silent behind the wheel, only occasionally throwing concerned glances at her daughter.
“Are you sure about this?” she asked at last.
“It’s not too late to turn back.
Alex shook her head.
I have to see him.
I have to try to explain.
He deserves the truth.
And if he doesn’t understand, then I’ll have to live with it.
Lawrence prison, a gray squat building behind a high fence, looked exactly as Alex had imagined.
Cold, impregnable, hostile.
I’ll wait for you here, Eleanor said, pulling the car into the parking lot.
I love you no matter what happens.
The visitor registration procedure was humiliating.
checking IDs, filling out forms, searching.
The security officer, a middle-aged man with an indifferent face, took a long look at the photo on the ID card, then shifted his gaze to Alex.
Hm.
Looks a little different.
Yeah.
Changed my hair, Alex answered, trying to make her voice sound higher than usual.
The officer shrugged and stamped it.
The officer conducting the body search was more attentive.
Her hand froze for a moment as she detected a bandage under Alex’s clothing.
A medical device, Alex explained quietly.
I have a certificate.
The woman nodded, but something like understanding flashed in her eyes.
Alex looked away, feeling the color flooding her cheeks.
Then there was a long hallway, another check.
Finally, the door to the visiting wing.
Ray Donovan, the warden with a sour expression on his face, took her under his elbow.
first time with us?” His voice sounded almost mocking.
“The intimate visiting room is right down the hall.
Do you know the rules?” Alex nodded, not trusting her voice.
“You have 2 hours,” Donovan continued.
“There’s a call button inside, but use it only in emergencies.
There are no cameras in the room, so feel free.
” He grinned, and Alex felt a chill run down her spine.
The room looked almost like a room in a cheap hotel, a double bed, a small table, two chairs.
There was a plastic tray of cookies and a thermos on the table.
“Your husband will be here in a minute,” Donovan said, leaving her alone.
The door closed, and Alex pressed her hand to her chest, trying to calm her racing heart.
“It wasn’t too late.
She could explain everything.
Michael would understand.
He should understand.
” The click of the lock made her jump.
The door opened and there he was.
is Michael, her husband, the man she knew down to the smallest detail of his soul, but had never seen in person.
He was taller than she’d imagined from photographs, broader in the shoulders, his prison robe hung baggy on him, but it couldn’t hide his sturdy build.
His eyes, the same eyes from the pictures she’d spent hours looking at, were now looking at her with such adoration that it took her breath away.
“Alex,” he said, and the name sounded like a prayer.
For a moment, they stood motionless, separated by a few steps and 17 months of waiting.
Then Michael took a step forward and another, and then his arms were around her shoulders.
“Finally,” he whispered.
“You’re finally here.
” Alex let herself melt into his arms.
His scent, a mixture of cheap soap and something deeply masculine, enveloped her.
His heart beat next to her heart.
For a moment, she forgot the fear, the mystery, the inevitable conversation.
I’ve waited so long for this.
Michael pulled back to look into her face.
You’re even more beautiful than in the pictures.
Well, his lips found hers gently, almost chastely, then again, more confidently, more insistently.
His hand slid down her back, pulling her closer.
Michael, Alex pulled away gently.
We need to talk later, he whispered, kissing her again, now with unconcealed passion.
We have so little time.
I’ve been dreaming about you for so long.
His hands were everywhere.
On her back, in her hair, on her thighs.
Alex could feel his arousal, his impatience, his hunger.
Instinctively, she took a step back.
“Please, Michael, it’s important.
” He stopped, breathing heavily, eyes clouded with desire.
“What is it, love? Is something wrong?” Alex took a deep breath.
Now, she had to say now, “Yeah, there’s something you don’t know about me.
” Michael frowned.
“Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter.
I love you.
” He reached for her again, but Alex took another step back.
“It does matter, Michael.
It matters a lot, Ia.
” The words were stuck in my throat.
“I’m not exactly who you think I am.
What are you talking about?” There was a bit of irritation in his voice.
You’re my wife, the woman I’ve been corresponding with for a year and a half.
What else do I need to know? Alex wrapped her arms around herself as if defending herself.
I was born different, she said quietly.
I’m in transition, Michael.
I haven’t finished it.
Uh, transition.
The confusion on his face was replaced by confusion.
What are you talking about? I’m transgender, Michael.
I was born in a man’s body.
The silence that followed those words was deafening.
Michael looked at her as if she were speaking an unfamiliar language.
“Is this some kind of joke?” he finally asked.
“Because it’s not funny.
” “It’s not a joke,” Alex’s voice shook.
“I wanted to tell you before, but I didn’t know how.
I was afraid of losing you.
” Michael shook his head as if trying to shake off the obsession.
“No, no, no.
It’s impossible.
I’ve seen pictures of you.
You’re a woman.
My wife on the outside.
Yes.
Alex took a step toward him, holding out her hand.
On the inside, too.
I’ve always been a woman, Michael.
It’s just that my body didn’t fit.
I’ve been on hormone therapy for a long time.
My breasts have developed.
My skin has changed.
My features have changed.
Gender reassignment surgery.
Michael recoiled from her outstretched hand like a poisonous snake.
Are you saying that you have? He couldn’t finish the sentence, his face contorted with disgust.
Please try to understand.
Alex’s eyes filled with tears.
It’s still me, the same Alex who has been writing to you all these months.
Who loves you? Loves me.
Michael made a sound like laughter, but without a shadow of mirth.
You lied to me for a year and a half, forced me to marry.
He paused, his face contorted with rage.
Do you know what I had to listen to from the guys? Do you know how jealous they were that I had a beautiful wife coming over? Michael, I shut up.
He slammed his fist on the table.
Just shut up.
I don’t want to hear your voice.
I don’t want to see your face.
You’re a sick freak and you ruin my life.
Alex gasped in pain as if he’d hit her.
Tears ran down her cheeks, but she didn’t try to wipe them away.
I know it’s a shock.
It hasn’t been easy for me either, but Michael, if we love each other, “Love?” He almost spit the word out.
“I loved a woman.
A real woman, not this.
” He waved his hand squeamishly in her direction.
“I am a real woman,” Alex said quietly.
“Inside, in the shower, where it matters.
” For a second, something like doubt flashed in Michael’s eyes.
Then his gaze hardened.
“Prove it! Prove what? Prove that you’re a woman.
He stepped toward her, his face contorted with rage and something else Alex couldn’t read.
If you’re my wife, then we should have a wedding night.
Isn’t that why you came here? Michael, no.
Alex backed away from the wall.
Not like this.
Not now.
We need to talk.
We need to work things out.
Talk? He laughed harshly.
For a year and a half, I’ve been talking to you, writing to you.
Dreamed about you.
No more talking.
His hand squeezed her wrist with such force that Alex cried out in pain.
“Please don’t,” she whispered.
“You’re hurting me.
” “Aren’t you hurting me?” He yanked her to him.
“You come here, you make me believe I have a wife, a real wife, and then you say this.
” Kevin’s words rang in Michael’s ears.
If you came here, you’re ready.
They all break down, but they really want the same thing.
Be a man.
Take what’s yours.
I don’t believe you, he whispered, pulling Alex to him.
Prove it.
Prove you’re not a woman.
His lips pressed roughly against hers.
His hands squeezed her breasts through her blouse.
Alex tried to pull away, but he was stronger.
Much stronger.
Michael, stop.
She exhaled when he had to pull away for a breath of air.
This isn’t you.
I know you’re not.
You don’t know anything about me.
he growled, shoving her onto the bed.
Neither do I about you, apparently.
Alex fell onto her back, Michael looming over her, holding her arms above her head, his knees spread her legs, and he pressed himself against her.
No.
Alex wriggled under him, trying to get free.
Please, Michael, not like this.
Don’t.
But he wasn’t listening anymore.
With his free hand, he ripped her blouse, buttons flying across the room.
Another tug and the bra was ripped off, revealing small but quite feminine breasts.
Michael stood still for a moment, his eyes fixed on her body.
Then his hand moved lower to the waistband of her pants.
“No!” Alex screamed, wriggling with renewed vigor.
“Michael, please don’t do this!” Something in her voice, in her desperate resistance, made him stop for a second.
He looked into her face, tear stained, distorted with fear.
“Alex!” he murmured and for a moment his grip loosened.
“Yeah.
” She used that moment to free one hand, but instead of pushing him away, she touched his face.
“Please, Michael, not like this.
Not here.
If you really love me, not like this.
” Something in his eyes softened, but immediately the look became hard again.
“If I love you, do you? You’ve been lying to me for years.
” His hand pulled the zipper of her pants down.
Alex wriggled in desperation, trying to throw him off her.
Michael’s hand slid under the fabric of her underwear and froze.
Shock on his face.
Disbelief, disgust, fury.
God, he breathed out, pulling his hand away.
It was true.
Alex lay still, staring into his face, watching the love change to hate.
Michael, I shut up, he hissed, rolling off her.
Just shut up.
He stood in the middle of the room, breathing heavily, looking at her like something alien, repulsive.
Alex slowly sat up on the bed, trying to cover herself with her torn blouse.
“You broke everything,” Michael whispered.
And there was such pain in his voice that Alex flinched.
“Everything I had, everything I dreamed of.
” “We can fix this,” she said quietly.
together if you give us a chance.
” Michael shook his head and something in his eyes made Alex cringe against the wall.
“No, this can’t be fixed.
” The silence in the room became palpable, as dense as before a thunderstorm.
Michael stood, clenching and unclenching his fists, trying to grasp the reality that had just descended upon him.
His mind refused to accept it.
All these months, all these letters, all these dreams, it was all a lie.
You’re not even a woman,” he said horarssely, looking at Alex, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, trying to cover herself with a torn blouse.
“You’re a a man.
You’ve been a man all this time.
” “No, Michael.
” Alex’s voice trembled.
“I’ve always been a woman.
I was just born in the wrong body.
” “Yeah, shut up.
” Michael slammed his fist into the wall, feeling no pain.
“No more lies.
I saw it.
I felt He couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud.
The first shock was beginning to give way to something deeper, darker, humiliation, betrayal.
The whole prison knew his wife was coming to see him.
Kevin, Johnny, everyone else, they envied him, respected him for having a beautiful woman waiting for him.
And now scenes flashed before Michael’s eyes, the laughing faces of his cellmates, the scornful looks, the nasty jokes.
Hey, Reigns, how’s your wife or husband? Reigns is on the boy’s side now.
[ __ ] You destroyed me, he whispered, and his voice was frighteningly calm.
Do you realize what you’ve done? Alex slowly stood up, keeping her distance from him.
Michael, I know you’re shocked right now, but nothing has changed.
I’m still the same Alex who wrote to you who loves you.
All those feelings were real.
Real? Michael took a step toward her, and Alex instinctively backed away.
You call that real? You’re not real.
You’re a fake.
Years of prison existence, repressed aggression, fear of appearing weak.
All of it boiled up inside him, looking for a way out.
Thoughts swarmed in his head, sharp, stinging.
For 17 months, he had dreamed of this meeting.
Every night, lying in his cell, he imagined embracing his wife, kissing her, making love to her.
He was the envy of the other prisoners.
He was special.
Not just a man serving time, but a man with a future, with hope.
And it all turned out to be an illusion.
I thought you were saving me, Michael said, and his voice broke.
And you were just using me for your sick game.
No, Michael, that’s not true.
Alex took a step toward him, holding out her hand.
I never meant to hurt you.
I fell in love with you through your letters, your soul, your mind, your hopes.
Don’t touch me, Michael shouted, recoiling.
Did you think I’d never find out? That I’d never get out of prison or that I’d be so grateful for any attention that I’d accept this? Alex lowered her hand, tears streaming down her face.
I knew I had to tell you I was going to, but I was afraid of losing you.
You became everything to me.
The only person who understood me, accepted me for who I was.
I didn’t accept you, Michael growled.
I didn’t know you.
If I had, I never would have written a single line.
Those words hit Alex harder than a physical blow.
She staggered as if in pain.
You can’t think like that.
After all we’ve been through together.
We Michael laughed bitterly.
What we? You lived your life sending me pretty pictures and sweet letters, and I was rotting here in these walls, clinging to false hope.
You were having fun at my expense.
That’s not true.
Alex’s eyes begged for understanding.
Michael, I love you.
Everything I wrote is true.
Every word.
It’s still me.
The same soul, the same thoughts, the same feelings, just the body.
Just the body, Michael echoed.
And something changed in his eyes.
Something went out.
For you, it’s just a body.
And for me, he didn’t finish.
His gaze went blank, detached.
Alex felt a chill spreading in his chest.
At that moment, he looked alien, unfamiliar, as if the person she had been corresponding with all these months had disappeared, giving way to someone else.
Let’s just talk.
She took a cautious step toward him.
Michael, I know you’re hurting.
I am, too.
But if we love each other, love.
He looked through her like she was a ghost.
I love the woman in the letters, the woman in the pictures, a real woman, not a a freak.
That word stabbed like a knife.
Alex flinched but kept talking, desperate to reach the Michael she knew.
Please don’t say that.
I know it’s a shock.
I know you feel cheated, but we can get through this together.
In time, you’ll realize that I you can’t deal with this.
Michael shook his head, his voice oddly calm.
When I walk out of here, everyone will know.
Everyone will laugh.
Reigns the one who married a man.
I’ll be a laughingstock.
I won’t be able to live with myself.
No one will know,” Alex said quickly.
“It’s just between us.
We can we can get a quiet divorce if you want.
I’ll disappear from your life.
No one will ever know.
” Michael looked at her as if he hadn’t heard a word.
She said, “You ruined my life.
Michael, please.
” And then he snapped.
All the tension of the last few minutes, all the shock, all the humiliation came out in one wild, insane outburst of rage.
He lunged at Alex with such speed that she didn’t even have time to cry out.
His hands closed around her throat, squeezing with inhuman strength.
“You ruined my my life!” he repeated through gritted teeth, tightening his grip with each word.
Alex frantically gulped for air, her hands clawing at his wrists, her eyes widened with horror and disbelief.
She tried to say something, but only a weeze escaped her throat.
A part of Michael deep inside was screaming that this was madness, that it had to stop, that this rage was not him.
But that part was buried under an avalanche of anger, humiliation, and despair.
All the rage that had accumulated over the years of confinement had found its way out.
He was vaguely aware that Alex was weakening, that her resistance was fading.
Her eyes full of tears and incomprehension were still looking at him as if asking why.
And even at that moment, there was no hatred in them, only pain and love.
This only made him more furious.
How dare she look at him like that? How dare she still pretend to be loving? It was all lies, deception, manipulation.
He couldn’t remember how much time had passed, seconds, minutes.
His hands continued to squeeze even when Alex stopped moving when her eyes rolled back and her body went limp.
Only when his own hands began to shake from the exertion did he finally let go and recoiled.
Alex fell to the floor like a broken doll.
Her open eyes stared into nothing.
The bruises from his fingers were darkening on her neck.
The reality of what was happening slowly seeped into Michael’s mind.
He had killed a man.
Killed Alex, his wife.
The man whose letters he reread to the point of tears, whose pictures he kissed before bed.
“No,” he whispered, falling to his knees beside the body.
“No, no, no.
” He touched her face, still warm but lifeless.
Tried to feel for a pulse on the neck he’d just clutched.
shook her shoulders as if that would bring her back to life.
“Alex,” he called out.
“Alex, wake up.
Please wake up.
” But there was no answer, just silence and a sense of the irreparability of what had happened.
Michael didn’t remember pressing the call button.
He didn’t remember how the wardens came in, how they pulled him away from the body, how they handcuffed him.
Everything was a blur.
He was vaguely aware of voices around Ray Donovan, speaking with cold interest.
found out the wife was actually a man, huh? Tough kid.
The warden irritably reprimanding something about press problems.
Medics stating death by asphyxiation.
The procedure was surprisingly nonchalant.
No one expressed shock or particular regret.
Murder in prison is common place.
The fact that it took place in the visiting room was only a minor inconvenience to the administration.
Michael was taken to the isolation cell, a small windowless cell with bare concrete walls.
There, in complete silence, alone with himself, the reality of what had happened finally caught up with him.
He had killed Alex, the man he loved, the person who loved him.
Her last words echoed in his head.
I know you’re hurting.
I’m hurting, too.
but if we love each other.
He remembered her eyes full of pain but not hate.
Until the very end, she had tried to reach him, the real Michael she knew from her letters and she couldn’t.
In a way, he was the fake.
The real Michael, the one who wrote tender letters, shared his dreams, promised eternal love, disappeared at the moment of the trial, giving way to a cruel, frightened man who could not accept the truth.
Sitting in the detention center, he tried to understand what had happened.
Why had he reacted the way he had? Because of the prison that had turned him into an animal.
Because of the fear of ridicule from the other inmates or because of his own prejudices that were stronger than love.
He didn’t know.
He only knew that he had lost something priceless.
The opportunity to be loved and understood for who he was.
Exactly what Alex had offered him.
Elellanar Morgan sat in the waiting room of the Lawrence prison for the third hour.
Something was wrong.
The date was supposed to end at 3:00, but Alex wouldn’t come out.
All questions were answered evasively by the staff.
Standby.
You’ll be contacted.
When a uniformed man with a stern expression finally approached her, she already knew the irreparable had happened.
Mrs.
Morgan.
He didn’t even try to act sympathetic.
I need you to identify the body.
Then there was a lineup.
The formalities, the bureaucracy of death, surprisingly similar to the bureaucracy of life, forms, signatures, procedures.
Alex’s body wasn’t released until a week later.
Elellanar organized a modest funeral.
Only a few people came, relatives, a couple of friends who accepted Alex as she was at home.
Sorting through her daughter’s things, Elellaner found a box of letters from Michael.
Hundreds of letters neatly tied with ribbons with signed dates.
She didn’t want to read them.
It was too personal, too painful.
But something compelled her to pick up the top letter from the last stack.
My favorite Alex.
I can’t wait for us to meet.
Only two days left.
I imagine seeing you for the first time, hearing your voice, touching your hand.
You know, I can’t stop thinking about what you wrote in your last letter.
The fear that something will change when we meet.
Nothing will change the way I feel about you.
Nothing.
I fell in love with you for your soul, your thoughts, your caring.
The way you understand me, the way you accept me with all my imperfections.
Whatever you are, I will love you always.
You’re Michael.
Tears misted Ellanar’s eyes.
She set the letter aside and picked up another from the middle of the stack.
then another and another.
Each letter was filled with such tenderness, such understanding, such acceptance that it was impossible to believe that the man who had written them was capable of such cruelty.
She found a draft of Alex’s last letter, the one she’d never sent.
Michael, my love, I have been gathering my courage to write this letter for so long.
I should have done it a long time ago from the beginning.
But at first, I didn’t think our correspondence would become anything serious.
And then when I realized I was falling in love with you, it became too scary to risk what we had.
I’m not exactly who you think I am.
I was born a boy.
All my life, I knew it was a mistake to be trapped in a man’s body with a woman’s soul.
For the last few years, I’ve been living as a woman.
I take hormones.
I’ve changed my appearance.
But I haven’t undergone full sex reassignment surgery yet.
I realize this may come as a shock to you.
Maybe it’ll change the way you feel about me.
If it does, I understand.
But I had to tell you the truth.
You deserve it.
Know one thing.
Everything I wrote to you, everything I said about how I felt was true.
I love you with all my heart.
And I will love you no matter what happens.
Yours, Alex.
Ellaner clutched the letter to her chest, tears streaming down her faces.
Two truly loving souls.
Two people who could have given each other so much.
and all destroyed in one moment of fear, misunderstanding, and prejudice.
She looked at the picture on the table.
Alex was smiling at the camera, happy, full of hope for the future, a future that would never happen now.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Ellaner whispered.
“I should have protected you.
” But she knew that no one could protect Alex.
Not from a world too cruel to those who were different, nor from a love too strong to give up, even knowing the risks.
In Lawrence prison, in the isolation cell, Michael Reigns sat leaning against the cold wall.
In his hands, he held the last picture of Alex, the only thing he was allowed to keep.
He looked at the smiling face and tried to understand how love, pure and sincere, could turn so quickly into hate and violence.
There was no answer, only silence and the realization that some things can’t be fixed.
Some wounds are too deep.
Some illusions once shattered leave no hope of recovery.
He turned the photograph over.
On the back in familiar handwriting was written, “Love you just the way you are.
Forever yours, Alex.
” Michael closed his eyes.
Too late.
He realized he couldn’t give her the
