Aria sat alone in her lumpy bunk staring at the envelope. She’d shaken it, felt around the edges, and even smelled it. She had no idea what it might hold. Opening it felt like too big a task. No matter what was inside she was sure it held a choice. Like he said, either use it or toss it in the trash.

Lifting it again, she finally put her finger beneath the flap and ripped it across the top. Tipping and spilling the contents she reached first for the handwritten letter with her name at the top.

---

Dear Aria,

If you have this, it means Libby couldn’t convince you to change your mind. I respect that and you more than I can explain in just one letter. I’ve sat across from important people many times in my life. I’ve thought them to be strong and wise, yet they all pale in comparison to the awe I felt sitting across from you.

For a while I tried to sort out who held all the blame in this. Somedays it was all on my shoulders. Other days I thought it was the circumstances we were victims of. Now I realize there is no blame at all. Because blame doesn’t change things. Knowing who hurt you doesn’t make you feel any less pain.

That realization won’t stop me from saying I’m sorry though. I truly am sorry for leaving things unsaid and unexplained. I’ve never been good at transparency. It’s always made me feel too exposed. But I should have known I was safe to tell you everything.

The only thing I could think to give you is what you’ve actually been asking for this whole time. Peace. In this package you’ll find the information for a man on the island who will provide you with everything you need to start fresh. Pick a new name. Get a passport. He’s already been paid. You’ll have a whole new background, and you’ll be free of the worry of being found out.

Also, and I know you’ll hate this, but I’ve included cash. Plenty of it. Also a prepaid credit card with even more. Fly somewhere new. Be someone new. Do it in a way that doesn’t destroy you bit by bit. Do it somewhere you love.

I won’t know your new name or where you end up. You’ll have true anonymity, even from me. It’s the only way I can let you go. If I know where you are, I’ll get drunk one night and hop a flight to wherever you are.

If you ask yourself why I’m doing this, if that matters to you, I’ll tell you it’s two things I know to be unequivocally true. First, more than anyone I’ve met, you deserve this. Whatever penance you feel you needed to make, you have. The second thing I know without a doubt is that I love you. You might think I’m crazy. You can’t figure out you love someone in the short amount of time we had together. You’re right about that. I didn’t know I loved you during that time. It’s every minute I’ve been without you that makes me sure what we had was love.

Whatever you do, don’t be a stubborn idiot. When you decide what to do, consider your own happiness. Things at the Carle De Blu will be rectified. All your friends who helped me while I was there are being well taken care of. Libby is seeing to that on her trip. Everyone else will be as well, though it might take more time. I’ll see to it. Now is your time. Take it.

Love,

Monroe

---

Aria clutched the paper so tightly it crumpled under her grip. She hadn’t realized she was crying until tears blotched the ink on the letter. Lifting the contents of the envelope she saw cash, the contact information, and bottle of the cream she loved so much.

“Damn,” she breathed out as she began to read the letter again. She’d been almost certain before she opened it that she’d be tossing its contents into the nearest trash can. Almost certain.

Her mind drifted to the pictures that used to hang on her wall as a child. Paris. Europe. Her backpacking trip. Every dream she had was suddenly at her fingertips with no strings attached.

Cramming the cash and everything else back into the envelope, she clutched it again to her chest. Aria had said no to so many things in the last few years. There was always a reason not to do something. He’d taken all those reasons away. There was only one thing standing between her and freedom. Fear.

There was something about this kind of captivity that no one understood if they hadn’t experienced it. You could hate the chains that held you, but miss the weight of them, the familiarity once they were gone. You could hate a place and still worry when it was time to leave it.

A far-off rumble of thunder echoed in the night, and soon the sky opened up with sheets of unrelenting rain. Like always, drips found their way through the thatched roof and plunked against the wood floor. When lightning crashed nearby and the wind grew fierce, part of the roof tore away. A small section above her bed. The storm howled on, and Aria stared at the sky as rain wet her face; she finally knew: it was time to leave.