The 10

25

Shawn's face drops as he stares at Liza's necklace. Fuck, when did she put that there? Why was she even in the nightstand? He looks at his wife, then looks back at the necklace, then back to his wife. He shakes his head, beginning to chuckle lightly.

"It's a gift for you."
"Excuse me?" Julia asks, not buying a single word he said.
"Yeah, I got it for you the day you left. I was going to do a whole game where you would find it truly surprised, but I forgot about it, and yeah," he laughs nervously.
"Why a butterfly, though?"
"Because we've been through so much, it's like we've earned our wings." he lies smoothly. I can't believe I just brought my dead son into this. Please forgive me, Kyle. I'm so sorry.
Julia's eyes water. "Thank you."
"You're welcome. I thought you needed something good for once."
"I appreciate it." Julia rests the necklace on top of her night table and closes the drawer.
    The pair snuggle into bed together. Julia's fast asleep, but Shawn would spend the night sleepless, thinking about his son, the lie he just told, the lie that involved his son to convince his wife, and praying to his son begging for his forgiveness. He has no idea if Kyle had heard the prayers, much less forgave him.

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That following morning was the day Kate has been dreading. It was the day to turn in the essay. Kate dressed lazily, barely dressing in her usual attire. Coming down the stairs, backpack in hand drooping from her hand, she sets it on the couch and greets her mother in the kitchen, saying hello.
"Wow, that's uh, different." her mother comments.
"Didn't really sleep, besides, it's Friday." she shrugs.
"Well, have a good day regardless."
After saying goodbye to her mother, Kate gets into her car. Tossing the backpack in the passenger seat, she closes her door and starts the engine. Slowly backing out of her driveway, she drives down her road and makes the right to her school. Hawkins and Watson follow closely behind. Kate pulls into her assigned parking space. Cutting the engine, she grabs her backpack and yawns as she closes the door, locking her car. Loosely hanging the backpack on her shoulder, she crosses the pathway and enters the building.
Kate breezes through her first five classes and slowly treads to Ms. Peters' classroom. Taking a breath, she gives herself a little pep talk and enters the room. Smiling briefly at Ms. Peters', she takes her seat next to Isabella. Turning to hang her bag over her chair, she spots Luke's empty chair behind her. Shuddering, she forces herself to turn away, dropping her bag to the floor instead.

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Ms. Peters' waits for the bell to ring before closing her door. Walking back to her desk, she drags the podium to the center of the room, giving her a great view of her students essays. Got to make sure they actually completed the assignment, no slacking, she mentally reminds herself.
"Okay," she says, smoothing out her skirt. "Who wants to read their essay first?"
Of course, the students are silent. "Okay, I guess I will choose."
She eyes the room, curling her lip as she decides. "Isabella."
Isabella's eyes shoot up. "What?"
"I know you unfortunately lost time with your inmate, so I am curious what you wrote about him anyways. Please," Ms. Peters' motions to the podium.
Isabella opens her folder, grabbing the notes and the essay itself. Going over to Ms. Peters' desk, she hands her the handwritten notes. Ms. Peters' smiles gently and wishes her luck. Isabella places her essay on the wooden banister, clearing her throat, she looks at Kate to settle her nerves. Kate smiles, mouthing, "Good luck, you can do it." Isabella returns the smile. As she opens her mouth to speak, there's a knock on the door. Ms. Peters', and the students, raise a brow.
Ms. Peters' opens the door. "Oh, Mr. Hawkins and Ms. Watson, what can I do for you?"
"Per the Christopher Samuels' incident, we would like to listen to the students' essays," Brian says.
"I guess that would be okay. But I also suppose I have no choice in the matter?" Brian nods as he and Watson take seats at the back. Isabella swallows nervously.
    Smoothing out her essay, she begins. "Derek Daniels was an unbearable man to deal with at first. He wanted nothing to do with me nor the assignment. He was uninterested in talking to me, knowing my name, or even looking at me. Derek was sentenced to sixty years and had served twenty-two of them. He was in prison for brutally murdering a woman; his ex-sister-in-law, which I found out after pushing his buttons one day." She smiles slightly, remembering the moment. "I remember seeing he had run from the police after the police were sure he was good for the murder. I had asked him how he managed to stay on the run for so long. He smirked and said, "I managed a low profile, hid out in some abandoned houses with their roofs caved in, stole some hair dye, and crashed at friends' homes, even people the cops had no idea I associated with."
I asked for more about his personal life and received nothing, of course." She laughs lightly. "Because I knew he was not the type to open up, at all. I mean, I could barely get him to tell me his name. I asked more about the sister-in-law, and he admitted to having an affair with her, but only because he was newly divorced from her sister, and figured that she was a good lay because she was a prostitute. He became irate when she turned him down one day. He then found out, excuse my language, that she was fucking guys a lot uglier than him.
I asked him more about his crime, needing desperately to know more for my assignment. He was hesitant at first, but I managed to get him to talk. He said, "I don't regret what I did, I regret who I did it to." After pausing for a moment, I joked with him that his comment was "deep." He found it amusing but still kept up his rude appearance. I asked how his ex-wife reacted to his arrest. He said she spoke on his behalf; testified that he loved her sister like his own, that she believed he would never hurt her, especially not to that extent, and blah blah blah, I quote.
After his trial, he told me his ex-wife visited him a few years ago and wrote to him a few years ago saying that she was getting married and couldn't contact him anymore.
Unfortunately, two days later, Derek Daniels was shanked to death. He was in the process of writing me pages upon pages when his killer sneaked up on him and took his life. Derek and I hadn't spent much time together, but eventually I grew to wonder more about his life. I saw in his eyes that there was still a good human being inside of him; he probably refused to admit it, but I knew he was still a good guy, despite the crime he had committed. Come to find out, the morning following his death, he had written me his whole life story—the truth for once. Seven pages of the truth, to be exact, which I will now read.
"Rodriguez, I haven't been honest with you in our time together so far. After sitting here for a while, staring at these pages, I have decided to tell you my story. And yes, this will be the truth, so stop rolling your eyes at me as you read this. Now that you've read my sly joke, I expect you to smirk and look down before continuing. My life was hell even before I was born; I was born a crack-baby, I never knew my mother. I lived in foster home after foster home after foster home. I grew up knowing that it truly was every man for himself; I had to do heinous things to survive. Every foster parent was different; and some loved me, some beat me, some ignored me. I preferred the ones that ignored me, there were no emotional ties, and if I needed to spend the night in jail after being nabbed for shoplifting, I was okay with it. When I was finally sixteen, I had myself emancipated and used my saved up money to put down a deposit on some cheap, run-down apartment in a bad neighborhood.
Bills were expensive, shoplifting and pawning were no longer cutting it. So I resorted to something I never thought it would come to, selling myself. I put an ad online and did what I had to do to survive, and I apologize in advance for telling you this because it makes me feel ashamed of what I had to do. I would go to their big fancy houses and sleep with whoever however they wanted it. Once they were asleep, I would rob them and steal to pawn later. Afterward, I would delete the ad without a trace and do it again week after week. I'm ashamed of my past, I won't lie, but I'm not ashamed of how strong it made me. It paid for me to go to college, get some decent clothes, never worry about where my next meal was coming from or how I was going to pay for it, and more importantly, it made me me.
In college, I met Karen first. At the time, she had a boyfriend, so she planned a double date for us. She invited her sister Megan, and we had a good time. It wasn't right, but I couldn't take my eyes off of Karen. I had learned to love Megan, a few little things about her. And so, a few months after college, I married her. I thought marrying her would make me forget my love for Karen, but it only made it more complicated.
I got my first real job as an intern at a law firm, and a few years later, they gave me a real job as a lawyer. I had everything I had ever dreamed of; a big house, so many cars I didn't know what to do with, a beautiful wife. But no kids. It had always been a dream of mine to have children, so I could give them the life I never had. It would be my second chance, but Megan and I couldn't get pregnant no matter how hard we tried or how many techniques we tried. It's what originally pushed me into Karen's arms. I'm ashamed of how we betrayed Megan, I am. But we loved each other, we were happy. Before I knew it, we were acting like husband and wife more than my wife and I. A few years later, I realized I was with her more than I was home, and I realized how right it felt to be with Karen. When I was with her, and it was just us, it was perfectly perfect. The day I proposed to Karen was also the day I had found out she was pregnant. She was crying, but not happily. She said she couldn't marry me because the guilt of betraying her sister was eating her alive. I promised her I intended to leave Megan and that we could move away and start anew.

Karen was all for it. She accepted my proposal, and we made love to celebrate. But this, Rodriguez, this is where my story gets even more interesting. Karen's boyfriend, Randell, was always away on business, so it wasn't much of a relationship. I was certain Karen was unhappy, but I was also certain that I made her happy. Randell was never around, until that day, that is. He walked in on us. We never even heard him. Not until he kicked the bedroom door in, at least. He dragged me off the bed, and he wanted to kill me. I remember the look on his face, his fist up in the air about to strike, and then I remember Karen. She grabbed his arm, told me to go, and I did. Stupidly, I walked out of the apartment, got in my car, and went home. Randell killed her. He killed her and it was my fault. Of course, because he traveled for work, he had a plane ticket that placed him out of state during the time of the murder. Because of my record, they just assumed I was good for it. Knowing that they would never believe me over Randell, I plead guilty to a crime I didn't commit. Now I'm here. I didn't lie about my wife taking the stand for my defense. When I left Karen's place and went home, I confessed to her about everything.
Megan took the stand and admitted to Karen and I's affair. She cried but insisted that there's no way I could've done it. The jury looked like they believed her, but our affair held them back. Karen died wearing my ring, and my prints were the only ones on the ring. They assumed that I had proposed to her, she had rejected, and in a fit of rage, I had brutally murdered her. Hell, it was a really good assumption, but it couldn't have been any farther from the truth. But hey, the jury believed it and found me guilty. I spent my first two years in here seeing Megan every day. But every time I looked at her, I saw Karen. I admitted to it one day, and she slapped me and stormed out. She never came back again. After a while, being alone became my new normal. I never left my cell and I never had an interest to.
But you, Rodriguez, you gave me a reason to leave my cell. You made everything seem normal again. It was almost like Karen or Megan were visiting. And no, you don't look like them, so don't ask, smartass.
I appreciate you, Rodriguez. I appreciate you and everything you're doing for me. Even when I was being a complete douche to you, you never gave up on me. You wanted answers and I held back because I didn't want to get attached again to anyone. But goddamnit, you're convincing. I looked forward to seeing you every morning, and I greatly appreciated what you were doing here. So, to conclude my own essay, because we only have a few time left, I'll leave it at this: if there's anything else you want to ask me, Rodriguez, look up from these pages and ask because I am your open book."
And Derek Daniels memory will live on through me- all because of the impact he made on me in our short, brief time together. Thank you." Isabella smiles and hands her essay to Ms. Peters before sitting back in her seat.
"Okay, Kate, you'll be starting us off on Monday." Ms. Peters smiles.