Dear Serenity,

Serenity

The convicted murderer could not get the letter off her mind. Why had he been so interested in a small town, bookstore owning "villain" to say the least? There was literally nothing exciting that she happen to see some visions of men and women raping and murdering other people; some even children. It wasn't pleasant for her and to take her revenge for the people who lost their lives and the revenge on making her go through that, she practically tortured each monster. It wasn't a fast death; it some occasions she needed to be quick so she gave them a simple slit across their throat, letting them drown in their own thick, disgusting blood.

She never left any evidence and she was the most innocent looking girl that for months, no one suspected her. Come on, she had no relation to these people but then.. that's when the cops starting to arrive, asking her questions about how every person they came across; had been a customer just the day before or in the general time frame. It was silly, they felt silly having to ask this 5 foot, red head with the sweetest of smiles if she was murdering these men. Soon enough though, she got careless, the more lives she took the more it began to take its toll. The officer that was on her side, found her bloody knife hidden in the back of her store- saw the big bloody stain on her floor. She may of been the one attacked but that didn't matter; they had found the strings that linked her to each murder and here she was. Caught. And imprisoned.

It would make sense to the life she grew up in. A run down trailer park with her crazy, twitchy mother who got slapped around by a man who thought he was better than them. It was only the matter of time that she got her revenge. The revenge on the man that took her mother. She never had time to look for him and inflict the pain he did on herself and her  mother- and now she sit in prison with much more dangerous women just yearning the moment she could slice his throat clean open.

She sit there on her rough bed, back leaned back against the cement wall; eyes wide as she looked at Ophelia's empty bed. Her hands doing kind of a swish motion, the thought of a knife clutched between both hands- the tip against her finger as she twirl it. Her mind had taken her somewhere else, a vision racking her body; episode's like this is what made everyone continue to think she was crazy.

The night before Ophie never came back to the bunk, which worried Serenity terribly, she had never gotten to share the letter with her due to the fact she never returned. And than this morning, Layla "Tenningbottom", the prissiest inmate here, brushed passed her and Ophelia filled her brain. The girl doing her yard work, she worked with several other women on the gardening here at the prison. It was the safest place to be among all the sickness and that's when she felt coughing filter her chest; Serenity clutching her throat as she felt it happen. She didn't actually cough where everyone else could hear her but in her head, she wasn't where everyone else was, she was in Ophelia's body.

Then the cool metal slid directly into her back, Ophie sliding to the ground; she was a sweet woman but some women were in here because of her. Layla took her revenge. And then the stabbing continued, sending her body into agony but outside in the real world all you could see was her falling to her side and clutching her body. The screaming was all in her head and that's when a hand touched her shoulder and she was snapped out of it. Officer Langdon's face was worried- sad. And she knew what she was going to say, the words were far away but she head them.

"I am sorry to inform you that Ophie died last night, Miss Phallan. I know you two were close- she was sicker than anyone could've anticipated."

Serenity was mad.. They covered it up so it wouldn't terrify them anyone than they were already in this hellhole- but before Langdon left, she handed her another letter. Pushing at the unwanted tears, she didn't need anyone seeing her weakness, she could be next. Scanning the envelope, she spotted the name. His name. Miguel Santiago- she couldn't believe it. He actually wrote her back. She twirled it in her hands, trying to debate if she would open it. Seeing Ophie's bed, she decided against it. It was a sweet thing of him to respond but since he believed her about her visions, he had to be even more crazy than she. Tossing the letter in the trash, she left her bunk, she couldn't be in here right now- she needed to find somewhere she could be alone and cry. Somewhere she couldn't get caught.

_________________________________________________________________________

Days later passed, nothing else resided in that trash can but that damn letter and she couldn't seem to stop looking at it every time she was in her bunk. One morning while she was waking up, she stretched her body out like a cat before reaching over and ripping it from the bin. No way could she wait another moment longer, ripping open the seal, she slid they letter out and began to read; his handwriting already tattooed to her brain. It was messy but elegant, the hand of a writer. Being a lover of books, she was quite fascinated even though she tried not to be. He just wanted to know her because of what she did, what she could do. That was all. Once she reached the end of the letter, she bit hard into her bottom lip and slip from the wooly blanket they provided her with. Pushing her ginger hair up in a bun, she slid someone more appropriate over her petite, pale body; green eyes scanning her desk until she found her favorite pen.

11752

Manhattan, New York

Dear Mr. Santiago,

I wasn't expecting this letter so my apologies on the days I have pushed the letter away. To say the least, I was scared, Scared as to why you want to know someone like me. I kill because I like the rush I get from killing monsters. They say I'm no better than my victims, who happen to be the villain of the story as well. But since you have given me the time of day to listening to what I have to say and believing me on my visions; thank you. I have always been troubled, locking myself away- I was never interested in why and how I had these visions. Or the extent they could take. Not until a few days ago. I had one friend here and she was murdered in cold blood. And I saw it! Usually I can only see the crimes of rape and then murder but this.. This was just a murder. My friend.. stabbed.

Serenity took the tip of the pen away from the paper, a teardrop falling upon the paper- it would stain the paper, showing the man her raw emotion and she wasn't sure how she felt about that but she had began to write and there was no going back.

The visions come to me through touch, even just a sheer graze of clothing. It racks through me and that's when I know I need to take a seat. Ride out the vision. If I fight it, it hurts me more than anything. Not only will I feel everything inflicted on the victim, it will physically burden me. Good thing I never fought a bullet to the head, than I would be surely dead instead of writing this letter. If you could, I would love more about this ability. You're the only one on my side now that Ophie is gone. Now it's me against these terrible people and the sickness that clouds these halls.

Maybe we were destined; if I hadn't murdered those people I wouldn't be hearing from you now.

I hope there is a next time,

Serenity Phallan