5 September 1831
My faithful friend Nellie:
I wish you were here...
Wait, that sounded wrong. I don't wish you were here, I wouldn't wish "here" on my worst enemy, much less you. What I long for is your guidance, however. You always know what do, always thinking on your feet, a trait I definitely could use right now.
It's horrific in here. So many guilty men, so much cruelty, it's hell on earth and there seems to be no way out. I find it harder everyday to find a reason to keep living knowing that I'll never see home again. That I'll never see you again.
I feel I haven't told you enough how much I value your friendship. I miss our end-of-the-day conversations. I miss all of our inside jokes. I miss your support. You've always been there for me and Lucy, I wish I could be there for you both right now. On the occasion they let us eat, (which is very rare) I imagine it's one of your meat pies, I find it helps it go down easier.
During one of these meals a horrid thought entered my mind, a thought I haven't been able to get out since: "What if I tried to escape?" Surely I can't do that, right? Escaping is for guilty men, men who refuse to accept what they've done.
If I escape, am I any better than the men sitting beside me as I write this? I don't know...But I also don't know how much longer I can stay in here. You would know what to tell me...I'm sure of it. I wish I was able to hear from you. I wish I got to tell you how you have been the greatest friend I could've asked for...maybe there's still time?
With great admiration,
Benjamin Barker
YOU ARE READING
The Letter
Poetry"And in that darkness when I'm blind with what I can't forget..." A series of letters written by the wrongfully imprisoned man who would become "The Demon Barber of Fleet Street" addressed to his beloved wife, daughter, and best friend. (Based on th...
