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Ezra and Ella	By : LuluDreams Category: S through Z > YOU Views: 228 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Disclaimer all characters belong just and only to the marvelous Caroline Kepnes, Netflix etc, I just own my sick ideas, lol

Chapter List
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Chapter II: Nothing irreparable

Bronte’s POV

Truth must be said: Attica Correctional Facility totally deserves its reputation as a maximum security prison.

It’s not an easy place to reach, for sure.

But I don’t even remotely regret getting on that train that from Penn Station only once a day can take people to Buffalo, with a comfortable travel that lasts eight hours.

And then it takes only half an hour of cab to get here.

Standing only a few miles from those walls that surround you.

Oh, Joe, have you ever got the feeling that things happen for a reason?
I have.
All our escapades gave me the proper adrenaline to write a book that got published.
And when I say that ‘On our way’, my book, is a best seller, I’m not talking bollocks.
When the Publishing House sent me the first check, I felt dizzy.
Let’s just say that nowadays in my bank account there are five zeros, preceded by a number bigger than four.
Not to mention that they are planning to translate my book in twelve languages, in order to spread it to the world, which means so much more money.
Now I’m sickeningly rich, well, not as rich as the fucking Lockwoods, but still…
And that couldn’t be more perfect, cos I need a lot of money for what I’m planning to do.

I keep staring at the gates, when they open sometimes, allowing a relative to visit a prisoner.

Even if I managed somehow to pay a visit to you, I seriously doubt that our conversation would be private.
That’s why I have to find another way to get in touch with you and I’m here to be sure if it can work.

I just have to wait for half an hour more before getting my answers.

I see the mail truck coming from afar. I try to get as close as I can, my hoodie hiding my way too showy red hair.
And I also wear dark sunglasses. The more of me I hide, the better.

My luck’s running even better than I hoped. The truck parked outside and two guards came out to take the mail.
From my distance I can clearly see and hear them.

“Hi, Dan, Hi Scott.” Smiles the delivery guy, the daily routine must have turned them into friends, by then.

“This is the general mail,” the guy says, handing them a very large sack. “And this is just for the Goldberg dude.”

It’s a much smaller sack, of course, but it contains at least twenty letters.
I mean, twenty fucking letters a day for you?

“Geez, guys, what’s so special about this psycho killer? Why do all these dumb girls fawn over him?” The delivery guy wonders out loud.

“I don’t know, Jack,” replies one of the guards. “You know what? I’m gonna try to kill someone and see if I get to be as successful as him!”

All the three guys laugh.
Maybe I don’t feel as cheerful as them, knowing that hundreds of bimbo bitches drool over you, but at least I got my answers.
Not only is it possible to write to you, but you’re used to getting many letters.
Now I know what to do.
Along with other important things.
Step by step.

---------------------------

When you took me to that breathtaking villa, my plans were very different, more like to make you confess you killed Beck and then kill you, once you were done correcting her book.
Of course, now I’m glad things went differently, but when my mind was set in that direction, I also had thought about the consequences.
Whether I killed a good or a bad person, it would have been a kill, nonetheless. I would have to jump the bail, I would have needed a fake passport.
One of the two you had prepared for us.
As you were cooking, I was smart enough to check the call log of your mobile and get that last number.
That was a call I had no need to make then, but I kept the number, just in case.
And now it’s turning out to be very useful.

This is not the kind of conversation you can have in a crowded train, I had to get back to the hotel first and now it’s almost one o’ clock in the morning.

However, I got the feeling that people like him don’t go to sleep early.
I just hope he’ll answer my call.

One ring, two rings, three rings, four rings… that’s it.

“Hello?” He sounds astonished.

“Hi. You don’t know me, as I don’t know you, but we share an acquaintance: Joe.”

Silence from the other side. Only for a few seconds.

“Dammit, it’s you! The bitch who set Joe up, the one who ruined his life forever!” He barks at me.

“Yep, that’s me, I can’t deny it; but let’s just say this bitch could try and fix things with a little help from you, super nerdy hacker Joe’s friend!”

“I have a name and that’s Will.” He grumbles.

“Okay, Will. Correct me if I’m wrong, you’re a great forger…”

“I’m not a great forger. I am the forger!” He brags.

“So I guess you could easily convey to Attica Correctional Facility an application for transfer to… ADX Florence... right?” I drop the bomb.

“Whoa! What? Are you kidding? No wait, even worse, are you trying to fucking set me up, too?” He grows angry.

“Calm down, Will. I’m not playing the Cop here, I’m not recording this call, you can trust me.”

“Well, I don’t trust you, bitch!”

“Hey! I also have a name." I retort.

“I know, Bronte.”

I startle. That was unexpected.

“How do you…”

“Joe talked to me about you. A lot.”

Cute. Okay, I have no time for sentimentalism now.

“I’m aware I’m asking a lot, but it’s because I plan something big. Something huge. I can’t have an active role in that, but I can finance every step of it… and it’s my ass on the line, too.”

Silence from the other side. Again. But I bet it’s the silence of someone pondering.

“Are you fucking serious, Bronte? Are we really doing such a thing?”

Oh. I can feel exhilaration in his tone.

“Only if you’re up for this, too. And, of course, beyond your big loyalty to Joe, I can give you another two hundred thousand reasons to convince you.”

“Whoa! Holy shit! Do you really mean…”

“Bucks. Yeah. Guess what? This bitch now is a rich book author. Just give me your data and you’ll get the money in a few days, along with all the details. So, do we have a deal?”

“Hell yeah we do!” Will laughs. “I’ll text you my data later. can’t wait for you to explain to me better what you’re planning to do. Whatever it is, if it actually works, geez, Joe will be so happy, not just for the newfound freedom, but because it’s coming from you.”

“Huh! Wh.. what?” I can’t help babbling.

“Like I told you, Joe used to talk with me about you, a lot. And, okay, he kept saying you were the one and I have already heard him say this other five or six times before… but there was something in his words, in his tone… I could feel him as happy as ever before. When he told me about the ring, he was so thrilled he almost cried. You were, no, you are the one, for real!” He explains, before ending the call.

It's not like I needed one more reason, but now I’m even more reassured than before that I’m doing the right thing.

Now it’s just a matter of taking an envelope, a sheet of paper and writing to you.

The easiest step of my plan. The one I’m going to love the most.

------------------------------------------------

(Two days later)

Joe’s POV

Everyone outside there probably thinks I can know people’s secrets and attitude only using social media - Oh god, I’d kill to have a mobile!-.

Well, that’s not entirely true.

Even letters can be clues. It has become my latest innocent, challenging game, just to prove myself I’m still good at that.

Hey, I happen to spend a relevant amount of time alone, I need something to do.

That’s why every day I crave the moment the mail comes to me and even today there’s a considerable pile ol letters awaiting.

I tear the envelope to open the first one.
Yeah, the guards used to control every single letter I get, but after more or less a year of countless delirium from hundreds of girls probably too unsatisfied by their lives, those poor guys grew so sick of that they just gave up and don’t even open them anymore.
Which is pointless: the people who really had a connection with me chose to avoid me, just like you, Bronte.

But now it’s time to enjoy my hobby.
I start with Sunny Sanders from Beverly Hills.
Well Sunny, looks like your parents have no great fantasy with names, right?
My eyes peer down at the words you bother to write to me.
Geez, you really abuse ellipsis. You must be underconfident and extremely anxious.
Sometimes the stroke of the pen is so light I can barely read the words.
It’s like you wanted to hide from the world.
Well, dear Sunny, I’m afraid you’ll have to find another guy to protect you and make you feel special, I think I’ll be kinda busy for at least the next forty years!

And then it’s Eveline Jacobs ’s turn, from Kentucky.
This is a much shorter letter.
Your sentences are short and terse.
You must be pragmatic and minimalist, which is not bad, by the way.
Although the letter is short, it almost filled the whole sheet, because you wrote very big letters.
Almost as if you wanted to scream to the world: ‘Look at me’

Okay, what’s next?
Hum, AnneLou Ryflise, from Wisconsin, yeah, I’m going to open this one.
What will you want from me, AnneLou? Maybe you sent me a picture of your boobs, or you’ll ask for a private picture of mine, or…

Fuck.
It’s like my heart stopped beating for a few seconds.

I’ve just unfolded the sheet and the very first words already got me like nothing else in the universe.

“Hi, sneaky little shit,”

There’s only a person who would call me that.
It’s you, Bronte.

I’m dying to read the rest, but first I need to check something.
I grab the envelope and study it better.
AnneLou Ryflise.
I just have to shuffle the letters with my mind and here you are: Louise Flannery.
Anagram.
So shrewd. It also makes me think I did something like that with our passports, too; well, the ones we don’t need anymore.
I sigh, and resume reading.

“Uhm, okay. Now that you probably figured out it’s me, will you still be reading or have you already ripped this sheet to shreds… like you wanted to do with me?”

I can’t help laughing.
This is just so absurd.

“So, if you’re still reading, let’s face the facts: I’m alive. You’re alive. There’s nothing irreparable.”

Oh, right. Nothing irreparable, you say, I’m just stuck here for the rest of my life!
Now I got it: you only wrote to make fun of me, bitch.
I should rip the paper to shreds for real, but the inner part of my instinct suggests to me I'd better go on.

“Joe, I have a plan and all I’m asking you is to trust me. I know it may sound ironic, since I already fooled you twice, and maybe I could even do it a third time, but what’s the worst that could happen to you? To us?”

Am I really reading what I’m reading?
Do you still care for me, Bronte?
Or is it the umpteenth charade?
It’s not that I have something else to lose, after all.

“Here’s a list of all the possibilities:
- My plan is successful, so you’re free again. Then you’ll decide if you want to spend your freedom with me (See? Between us it’s you, the possessive one, not me!)."”

You make me smile again. That’s your gift, Bronte, it has always been.

“- The guards figure out everything and follow all the tracks that lead to me. If I’m lucky I'll end up in your same correctional facility. We wont’ get to see each other anyway, but at least it would be something very romantic and poignant, Gabriel Garcia Marquez style!”

I would have said more like Victor Hugo, but I also like the way you think.

“-They find out out everything even before my plan can be set in action and you’re the only one who pays the consequences, probably getting electrocution; but, hey, remember? You begged me to kill you!”

Indeed, I am still thinking I really have nothing to lose.

“Sure, I could even evaluate all the risks better and just stop here, where you and I exchange letters (by the way, are you allowed to answer to the letters you receive?) and go on like that, ‘till the end of our lives.
Geez, no, I am not looking for an epistolar novel.
Who the fuck are we supposed to be? Jonathan Harker and Mina Murray?”

You make me laugh again, until I reach the very last part.

“No, Joe. You and I are dynamite.
I can’t tell you how, nor when, but just get ready, the fuse is going to be lit. ”

You caught me off guard, Bronte. I didn’t see it coming.

Is this your way to apologize? Or do you need a bigger revenge?

I’m so confused I don’t even know what to think.
I just know I’m weirdly caressing this paper as if it was your snowy skin.
Slowly, lovingly, patiently.
I miss that, I miss skimming every inch of you with my fingertips.
Especially when you were trying to write and used to call me a sneaky tempter devil.
You asked me to stop, but truth is you just begged for more.
And I always won, you closed your laptop and gave all your attention to me.
Sometimes I have the feeling I didn’t treasure enough all the moments we spent together. And apparently now there’s a dim chance we could get many more ones.

There’s another important thing I can't help noticing.

This time is not like when you typed that fake goodbye.
Not that I don't love a bit of vintage, but it’s something colder.
Instead now this is just your handwriting, something I’ve never had the pleasure to find out.
It’s like you want to open up to me a lot more, Bronte.
Your calligraphy is elegant, tidy, but the pen stroke is bold, belonging to someone who clearly knows what she wants.
Tell me, Bronte, have you finally decided what you want?

I read your letter twice more, only to impress every word in my mind and in my heart.
Although the guards lucky for me stopped controlling the mail addressed to me, your letter is just too dangerous, too compromising, I can’t keep it around.

No one is watching me, it’s now or never.

I rip it in four parts, crumple them, insert one at once in my mouth and gulp it down, helping me with some water.
I do the same with the envelope, for good measures.
I inserted a fucking key in my arm and opened the scar with my bare hands and my teeth to draw it out.
In comparison, this is a piece of cake… actually a piece of paper.
Ah-ah. Not even jail can kill my peculiar sense of humor.

TBC
Notes:
I’m really glad that in the TV series they don’t mention the prison Joe ended in (I don’t know if it’s explained in the books, I still have to read them!), so I could pick the one I preferred XD
So, now you’ll figure out why I needed Bronte to write a bestseller, I need her with money, LOL
Hope you’re still liking it, but feel free to tell me everything
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Ezra and Ella

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