Disclaimer: This letter, as is the case with most of my letters, is highly fictitious. It’s as usual, a work of my crazy and twisted imagination… (LOL)
A letter from Jail
30 – 12 – 2014
I never thought I’d get caught. Of course they promised me so much. And for a couple of years I enjoyed all of it. The money was beyond this world. I went wherever I wanted in the world – I’ve been through about four or five passports in the space of just four years!
You know all this already. But there’s a lot you don’t know.
There’s a reason why I did it….
You’ll probably call it greed.
We weren’t doing too badly, but I definitely wanted more….
I still keep wondering…. Was it worth it?
I haven’t been sentenced yet, and already, I feel like a caged bird. How will I survive for the next few years? Will my sentence be any lighter if I report the actual truth and call everyone out?
Or will I still rot in here and feel satisfied that they might rot too?
But the boss has promised me a lot of money after my term – however long that will be.….. Is it worth it?
What if he dies before then? What if?
What if I die before I get out…. That’s a very grave possibility.
There’s so much abuse in here. The women are much larger and much more aggressive.
My life is in shambles. I can’t describe the fear that’s built up in me.
I can’t begin to describe the tears I’ve shed. I can’t tell you how much I wish you were here.
Your warnings keep coming back to haunt me. Maybe if I had listened, we’d be home today, sipping some wine and watching in the news the story of the ‘Drug Baroness from Ghana’. We’d probably be so relieved that I decided not to take up the offer.
I keep wondering…. Why did I do it?
Now that I’m here, I wish so so much that I had listened to you.
I know, I know…. Cliché…. ‘Had I known’ is the fools cry…
I’m glad we never actually decided on a wedding…. And I’m especially glad we didn’t have kids. I wonder what it would be like for any child, seeing your mum all over the news for wrong things she did. Wrong decisions she made.
I know that you’re hurt and you’re probably mad too.
I deserve this – but you don’t. Please move on. If you can possibly forgive me, please do. You know me well. Circumstances together with my choices have brought me here. I don’t want you to suffer for my wrong doings. So please do move on.
Even if I get a ten year sentence, which I’m told could be the minimum I’ll be getting, I don’t know for sure if I’ll come out alive. I don’t know for sure if I’ll be the same girl you’ve been in love with for the past six years.
I might be abused beyond normalcy.
I may be depressed beyond all sanity.
They never come out the same, you know…. Never.
Hardly better either.
All that I ask is that you don’t judge me…. I know there are one hundred and one stories going around. I know everybody seems to have their take. Until you hear my full story, please don’t judge me. One day, you’ll know it all. Maybe you’ll understand, maybe you won’t.
08 – 01 – 15
I’m in now…. 8 years and 8 months…. I’ll make it somehow… pray for me. Please don’t condemn me too. Everyone else will, but please don’t. One day, I hope you can visit. One day soon. They say there’s a silver lining to every cloud. I’m guessing mine is that I wasn’t caught in Ghana… I might have gotten a worse sentence, and I would definitely have had a much worse experience.
And maybe I’ll get to know Christ in here…. You never really talked much about Him, especially after you realised I was never paying attention.
They took the house… and everything else, but maybe I’ll gain something in here.
Pray for me.
I’ll get over the tears soon….
I’ll get over everything soon…. At least I pray so!
I miss you, and I’m so sorry!