Bella's POV

It took less than a week for the pack from the service to arrive. Along with the introductory leaflet, there was a thick booklet labelled 'Rules and Guidelines' and a pre-addressed envelope for me to post my first letter in. The only thing I was told about the prisoner I had been matched with was their number- I wasn't even allowed to know their gender. It took me 3 days to pluck up the courage to sit down and write the letter. Before reading the guidelines novel, I had a rough idea of what I was going to say. Pure common sense told me I couldn't give away too much for my own safety- obviously I wasn't going to tell a potential murder where I lived, but I had hoped I would at least be able to tell them my name. The more I read into what the rules were saying, the more irked I became. I knew what I was getting into when I signed up for this, the person I would be writing to would definitely be an unsavoury character but they were still a human being. I didn't like the way the rules took away their humanity, their individuality.

It took me another 3 days to rethink my original plan and draft my letter. Writing it was quicker than I thought; it took less than 20 minutes to write it and re-read it before sending it off. I knew that no matter how many times I Iooked over it, I would still be paranoid I did something wrong or left something out.

Dear Prisoner #200601,

I wish I was allowed to know your name, I hate referring to you as a number, I feel like I'm dehumanising you. The infinitely long list of guidelines I'm looking at as I write this also forbids me to tell you what my name is, as well as where I'm writing from. I didn't think there would be so many rules to this, so many strict regulations I have to stick to for my own safety. I hope it's worth it though, that both of us feel like something has been accomplished.

They told me not to tell you about myself but not to be too personal. I think this is a very fine line to walk but I will try my best. I am a housewife, married to a man who loves and cares for me. We have no children and my days have all become a constant blur. That's why I joined this program. I wanted to add something different, unusual into my daily haze and writing to somebody like you seems an interesting way to do this. My intentions are not purely selfish though, I know that monotony must have a completely different meaning to you and I hope that somehow we can make a small difference to each other's lives.

I don't know how long this letters are supposed to be, or whether I've said the right things but I want to emphasise the fact that although you are a criminal of some sort, I don't judge you for it and I don't think any less of you as a person. Whatever you did you were caught, trialled and punished and it isn't my place to have an opinion of you without knowing you. If it's okay though, I am wondering about a couple of things. How long have you been in jail for? What made you want to sign up for this program? What's your daily routine like? When are you due to be released? I hope the questions aren't too personal and you can feel free to ask me anything you want and I will answer you as honestly as I can while, of course keeping in the guidelines.

Looking forward to your reply,

B

As I walked away from the mailbox, my mind began to fill with even more questions that I should have asked, and whether or not I had written the right kind of information. My heart began to thump and paranoia slowly began to overcome me as I thought of all the things that could happen. What if I was writing to a violent murderer? What if they somehow tracked me down?

I slept restlessly that night, waking up at random intervals to check my room for criminals. Jake noticed after the 8th time but I passed it off as hormones and luckily, he believed me. I rang Rose the next day and she finally put my irrational fears at ease by reminding me that they would have no idea who I was, let alone where I lived because all the letters were usually sent to prisons in states the other side of the country.

I spent the next few weeks undertaking my usual routine although there was a nice change in the fact that, for the first time in years, I was hopeful. Although nervous, I was also somewhat excited to read whatever reply I was sent back, even if it was just plain insulting. My anxiousness was rewarded when, exactly after 30 days after I sent the letter, I received one in return. Hand written in delicate italic script, it was not the response I was expecting.

B,

I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart for taking the time to write to somebody like me. Most people in society today would look down upon me, see me as scum and unworthy of a thought. But you appear to be without the shallowness and false superiority that so many people today are too full of, so thank you. I signed up for this program out of loneliness, my family write and visit often but I long to meet new people, my old line of work saw me mingle with a variety of people everyday and I do not have that privilege here.-amongst other things...

You were right with your letter, since entering this desolate place 12 months ago, my identity has been taken from me, anything I knew outside of these four walls is irrelevant- I don't have a name or background, now, I am just #200601. I have no hesitations in telling you why I am here, as you said, it is my own fault and I take full responsibility for my actions. It happened 18 months ago, *Text censored by supervisor for breaching of privacy rules*...an animal at best and I would do it again in a heartbeat if I could. I don't believe in disrespect of any kind, especially not towards those who I love.

I hope my frankness and approval of violence does not stop you writing to me but I understand fully if it does. You would not be the first to not write a second letter.

E

The person I received a letter from was not the violent, unintelligent thug I had inaccurately expected and I felt shameful for stereotyping. In almost complete opposite, they seem to be intellectual and share some of the same fundamental beliefs that I do. My heart jumped with excitement as I read each line over and over again, memorising it almost by heart and my curiosity went into overdrive reading over the censored words. What rule could he or she have broken? With the enthusiasm of a five year old child on Christmas Day, I picked up my pen and a fresh sheet of paper.

Dear E...