Letter to a Widow
By Laura Schiller
Based on the Matched Trilogy
Copyright: Ally Condie
Dear Ms. Nea,
I am Ky Markham, chosen Match of Cassia Reyes. We never met, and you may find it inappropriate for me to be writing to you like this. If so, I'm sorry. Cassia wanted to do it, but I asked her to let me. I was there. I should tell the story.
Your husband, Vick Roberts, was killed in a firing in the Outer Provinces last November. My friend Eli and I were the last to see him alive.
We were decoys sent to draw fire from the Enemy. I first met Vick when we disposed of the body of one of our group, and since that moment, we had each other's backs. He helped me bury our dead when we were ordered to leave them on the ground; he kept the new boys from breaking down; his irony kept us sane.
We escaped together into the Carving, he and Eli and I. We could have brought more people along, but the Enemy – so we thought – was attacking, and we were afraid to draw attention. We taught the other decoys how to rig their useless guns into firing back, but we don't know what difference it made. Do not think worse of him for leaving them behind. It was my idea.
One night during our travels, he told me about you. He cut notches on his boots to mark the days he lived without you. I gave him a piece of wood carved with your name.
The next morning, the Society dropped missiles to poison the stream where he was fishing. He died instantly. Eli and I removed as many of the missiles as we could. We buried him with a gravestone shaped like a fish..
I couldn't protect him, Ms. Nea. I am so sorry. Empty words, I know, when you lose someone, but all I have to give.
Your husband was one of the strongest, most incorruptible people I have ever had the honor of knowing. The Society took his life, but he never let them take his spirit. Even while he claimed to follow me, he taught me what it meant to be a leader. Knowing him helped me to forgive my past and look toward the future.
Enclosed, you should find his tissue sample. We came across it in a secret storage facility in the Carving. As his wife, it is your right to choose what to do with it.
Yours in sympathy,
K. M.
PS: On my last flight searching for Plague survivors, I landed by that stream. The rainy season washed away the poison. I saw a fish jump, its scales sparkling in the sunlight. It might have been a rainbow.
