Letters From Cages

After the reporter at the door finally realized that I wasn’t going to answer any of her questions and left, I got up off of the floor and walked back towards my room. I quickly lifted up my mattress and looked at about nine letters that I had stuffed under it that Carter had sent me. I don’t know what compelled me to go to them, but I knew that they’d help me get a little bit closer to finding out what really happened that night than watching the trial on the news like everyone else.

I picked up the first letter and quickly opened it and took out the paper inside. Carter was apologizing, telling me about his first nights in jail, and how awful they were. I couldn’t help but feel a pang in my heart at how I seemed to completely abandon him when he was convicted, but he abandoned me for the month before Daniel Cody’s death, and although I’m not a spiteful person, I think deep down inside I just wanted him to know how that felt.

I read through most of the letters, none of them giving me much insight except one. It was the most recent one, sent the day after I had left him when I had come to visit him that day that ended in yelling.

“My Dearest Gwenith,

There is probably many reasons as to why you aren’t responding to my letters, or haven’t been accepting my phone calls, or anything really. I understand why you wouldn’t. But the least I can do is hold onto some grasp of hope that you are reading these letters. I know that there is a lot that I haven’t told you, but I also know that you still care, you care about me and you always will and I know one day you’ll know that I would never lie to you, unless it was to protect you.

I miss you and I love you, and I’m sorry.

-Carter.”

I sat back on my bed and read the letter over and over, getting more angry and confused more than anything.

I know one day you’ll know that I would never lie to you, unless it was to protect you.

What does that even mean? Does that mean he has lied to me many times before when he felt that it would be because he’d be protecting me? Does that mean that there have been times when he has told me something, but was completely lying through his teeth? And protect me from what? Who or what would he want to protect me from?

I angrily threw the letter on the floor and kicked it under my bed when my doorbell rang once again. I groaned and got up to walk back to the door. I swung it open, ready to let my anger loose on the reporter again, but instead saw a face that I hadn’t seen in what seemed like forever.

“Hey, Gwenith,” Adam Powell said.

“Adam, wow, hi,” I replied. “Um, come in!” I opened the door wider and Adam stepped inside. He seemed to be a few inches taller since the first time I had had a conversation with him, when I was only seventeen. His dirty blonde hair was a little shaggier, yet was put in place, and his sky blue eyes crinkled with his smile as he stepped inside my father’s house.

“This is probably very weird,” Adam stated. I closed the door and turned to face him. “You know, me coming over when we barely ever really talked in high school. You probably don’t even really know who I am.”

“Of course I do,” I replied. “We went to a lot of the same social gatherings and stuff.”

“Yeah, but you were always with Carter so I wasn’t really sure you noticed,” Adam responded with a laugh.

“So what exactly inclined you to stop by?” I asked in the most polite way I could.

“Well, the whole town is buzzing about you moving back here,” Adam replied. “I half came to see for myself, and half came to just say hello and hoping you’re not shacked in here afraid to go out in the daylight.”

I laughed. “No, I’m fine, really.”

“Well, good,” Adam replied and then reached back and scratched the back of his neck.

A sudden idea seemed to burst itself into my head and before I could even unravel it, I looked up Adam.

“Hey,” I began and then quickly grabbed my coat off of the coat-rack by the door. “Would you like to go somewhere with me?”

“Yeah, of course,” Adam replied. “Where exactly?”

I opened the door and turned to look at him.

“To a junkyard.” I replied.



It was my eighteenth birthday, and I was in a green dress that matched my eyes. My hair was curled, opposite of its’ usual straight, and I was wearing more make up that I would ever wear in a month. If I wasn’t such a girl who kept her composure, I would have squealed with excitement at the fact that Carter would soon be picking me up and he’d be driving me two hours to the coast to go to the beach. Growing up in West Virginia, my father never took me to the beach. Supposedly, my mother flew me to Oregon when I was a baby and took me, but I don’t remember it, of course.

My nerves seemed jumbled up as I quickly looked towards the clock. It was 11:58 am, Carter would be here in two minutes.

But two minutes passed... and then five, and then ten, and then thirty.

Carter still hadn’t come.

I strolled along the house, finding little things to do like helping my grandmother fix a jewelry box, and reorganizing my beach bag. It was November, which meant the beaches weren’t going to be too glamorous and sunny, but Carter promised me that we’d just jump in anyways and pray we wouldn’t get pneumonia. We’d watch the sunset together and find some small seafood place to eat at, and then head home. For some reason, it sounded like it’d be the best birthday ever.

Forty-five minutes passed.

I stood by our house phone, but it never rang. I even grabbed my old cell phone that I never used to see if Carter had called, he hadn’t. Where was he?

After an hour and a half passed, I took off my shoes and sat down on the couch in front of the television with my dad and my grandmother. They were watching Jeopardy, and it was the most boring experience of my life. Earlier that morning they made me a birthday breakfast and my father gave me a brand new watch, but now all that watch did was remind me that Carter was now almost 2 hours late.

“How about we take you out to an early dinner,” My father said quietly. “Maybe go to that new restaurant that just opened downtown?”

“No, its fine,” I said sadly. “Thank you anyways.”

I slowly sauntered into my room, thinking maybe Carter would come in through the window to surprise me. I felt so stupid, just waiting on him when I could be out about the town doing fun things for my birthday. But the sad thing was, I didn’t even have any friends to go do things with. It was as if Carter was my life, my only friend. I wasn’t sure if I liked the sound of that at that moment, because right then, I felt crushed by my only friend.

Three hours passed and suddenly the doorbell rang. I was dressed in sweatpants and my father’s old T-shirt now, but my hair and make up were the same as this morning. My stomach sank as I walked towards the door, half hoping that Carter would be standing behind it because that meant he was safe and nothing happened to him, but half dreading seeing Carter there because that means he is literally three hours late, on my birthday.

I swung open the door to see Carter standing there, and the look on his face mirrored regret. His hair was disheveled and his shirt was half tucked in. What in the world had he been doing? I crossed my arms and leaned against the doorframe.

“I’m so sorry I'm so late,” Carter said softly and then looked at me. "You look beautiful." He added. He stepped forward towards me but I took a step back.

“So what’s the excuse?” I asked. “It’s obviously too late to go to the beach and now I’m just bitter on my birthday, so what happened? Why are you three hours late? And why in the world didn't you call?”

“It’s hard to explain, Gwen,” Carter replied. “All I can say is that I’m sorry and I just got tied up and it’ll never happen again. Let me take you out to dinner to make it up to you. Or anywhere else. I'll take you anywhere you like."

“Not until you explain,” I said sharply. “I don’t care if it’s hard, I’ve obviously got all night for you to figure out how to tell me.”

I could see Carter look behind my shoulder at my father and grandmother, who were probably listening intently to our conversation. I stepped forward and closed the door so we were on my doorstep and no one could hear us.

“Listen, something came up and I had to deal with it,” Carter said and tried to grab onto my hands. “I’m so sorry, I would never do this to you intentionally. Please, let’s not ruin your birthday, let’s go out and do something fun.”

“What came up so urgently that you couldn't have even picked up a telephone and called me?” I pushed. Carter let go of my hands and I could tell I was aggravating him. “What came up?” I repeated.

“Gwen,” Carter said, his head lowered and his deep voice itching with annoyance and anger.

“Tell me what came up!” I almost yelled.

“The guys needed me okay!” Carter yelled, his hands in the air. I paused for a second.

“Guys?” I asked.

“Charlie, Marco and Jerry,” Carter said, his voice low.

“You seriously ditched me on my birthday to help out some guys who work at a junkyard?!” I almost yelled. I was so frustrated with him to the point where tears were falling down my face. Carter reached forward and tried to wipe them away but I just pushed him off angrily.

“Trust me, it was important,” Carter replied while leaning his head up and down, trying to make eye contact with me.

“Well, Carter, I guess it was obviously more important than me,” I replied. I truly hated how Carter was hanging around those three… men. I didn’t understand why, and I didn’t understand what they did that made Carter so infatuated with them. I couldn’t grasp it.

“No, Gwenny, you know that’s not true,” Carter said while stepping toward me. I turned and opened my door and slammed it shut before Carter could say another word.

Happy Birthday to me.



“So can you tell me exactly why we’re going to a junkyard?” Adam asked while twiddling his thumbs on the dashboard of my car that I had saved up and bought from working at Freigle’s.

“I’m trying to figure a few things out,” I said vaguely. “And this would be the first place to go. And I didn’t want to go alone.”

I pulled into the dirt driveway of the old junkyard and a wave of feelings seemed to encompass me as I got out of my car and stepped towards the fence. I then leaped forward, and began to climb it.

“Gwenith, what are you doing?!” Adam said. “Obviously no one’s here if the gate is closed.”

I remember Carter driving up to this road and beeping at the gate, and then it opened.

“That’s not true,” I replied and hopped onto the other side. “Well, are you coming? Please?”

“Not before you give me an explanation as to why we’re here,” Adam replied easily with a small laugh, even though I knew he was dead serious. He probably thought I was crazy.

“Just trust me,” I said and I realized that I probably sounded just like Carter sounded to me whenever he was vague about what was going on in his life. Adam just sighed and then a crooked smile formed on his lips.

“You’re lucky I’m such a nice guy,” He remarked and then jumped forward to climb the fence, his natural athletic build swiftly got him over and in what seemed like a blink of an eye, he was by my side.

We both walked towards the middle of the junkyard where there was an opening and a covering with a table under it with chairs, just like I remembered seeing when we came the very first night, but this time, Charlie, Marco and Jerry weren’t sitting in the chairs.

I looked around and it honestly seemed like the junkyard had been abandoned. There were only a few old looking, half demolished cars here and there within the shrubbery, unlike the abundant amount of cars I saw everywhere the first time we came. I looked over at Adam who was walking around the open shed like area and leaned down to pick up something off of the floor.

“Gwenith, look,” He said. He reached over and handed me a dirty piece of paper that looked burned at the edges, as if someone burned it with a lighter slowly, making sure the fire blackened around the paper evenly. I turned the paper around and my mouth opened at the sight. It wasn't just a paper, it was a picture... a picture of me.