(Two kilometres from San Fernando Correctional)

Dust and an occasional number of insects swirled around the worried people who were getting ready to approach the maximum-security prison.

Nathaniel, given his old age, was not included with the team of men tasked to face the unsuspecting thugs surrounding the entire prison building.

Earlier, the old marine, along with the Senator and the chief of police came up with an immediate plan. According to the Senator, their backup will arrive in three hours tops, but after Nathaniel recounted the horror of the call he had with his brother-in-law's phone, they decided to try and pacify the situation outside the prison building while waiting for help to come.

The group of forty police, along with the chief was divided into four teams, with ten officers in three teams while the team tasked to take down the group guarding the front of the prison building, had eleven. The Senator and Nathaniel agreed to stay behind to await the arrival of the Swat team.

The plan was to have the four teams approach the prison grounds in different directions. The first team shall proceed head-on, making themselves visible to the renegades. The remaining team will take the element of surprise, while the sacrificing team battles it out with the intruders.

According to Nathaniel, having fewer people per team was suicide, but if the remaining teams pulled off their approach, undetected, they will stand a chance. He argued that approaching their complete battalion in one tow and in a single direction, will not only make them an easy target, but it would also lessen the chance of anyone successfully penetrating the prison grounds.

"At least, one of us could make it inside," the marine stated, before ending their discussion.

Using the telescope, Nathaniel deduced that their enemy has about sixty men in total. That's twenty above their number, but he had seen a man in battle, one police can take down two men. They have a chance, he thought to himself.

With a final glance towards the Senator, the four-team proceeded to San Fernando Correctional's direction.
***

(West Wing - Second floor)

Twenty-five years, that's how long it has been since Oscar allowed a drop of tears to fall from his eyes. Well, maybe he did shed some tears due to physical torture, but never because of heartache. "God damn you BT" he cursed, before flinging the second letter he read towards Sheldon.

"How many letters did he write?" Oscar asked the teary-eyed man beside him.

"Fifty, but some of it is missing," Sheldon answered.

Oscar got to his feet and gazed down at the man beside him. "You better get these letters to your mother," he said, before turning to walk away.

"It's too late," Sheldon answered.

His words compelled the old prisoner to turn around, and throw a threatening look, before he angrily asked, "What the fuck was that supposed to mean?"

Sheldon fell silent. A couple of days ago. He received a text message from his sister, begging him to return to San Ignacio. According to Valerie, their mother had another heart attack, and it could probably be her last. His sister also mentioned, that their mother has fallen into a coma.

It's not that he is cold-hearted, but the things that happened in the past tortured and haunted him. Those endless nights of questioning himself, and blaming himself for the events on the night of his father's death were unbearable. It then turned into anger and that loathe was forced upon one person, in particular, his mother.

Sheldon made sure that his mother never had the opportunity to feel his love or care for her. He made it his mission to make his mother suffer. He did not understand. He never received any closure, and it slowly broke him.

But as he gazed at the letters of 247, Sheldon understood. He owed his mother a lot. Everything was cleared.

"Hey, you're not that old to turn deaf are you?" Oscar yelled when Sheldon once again failed to give his question a reply.

Sheldon closed his eyes and allowed his thoughts to circle back to the letter that he and the prisoner read.
***

Dear Maria,

It's a sunny day, I never expected February to produce a warm day, but it did. There's a ray of sun hitting the desk I'm writing on. I guess things don't always turn out the way we expect them to.

My previous letter contained my desire to kill your husband, and yes, I did buy a gun.

I thought I'd go through with it, on that same day, but I failed. Well, I didn't try Maria.

You might be wondering why. The answers are simple. You see, when I stalked your husband back to your house, I didn't expect to find you there too.

I held tighter, the gun in my hand, positioned it to aim a shot, but you suddenly came out from the kitchen door. I thought you would start crying again, but no.

You smiled, and you have a happy and satisfied smile. I took a step back when I saw that Maria. I felt confused. So I ran away and went back to the inn I rented.

Why were you smiling Maria? Wasn't he the cause of your tears? Why did you look so happy and satisfied to see him enter your house?

I remained inside the Inn for two whole days. I barely ate, but on the third day--I realized something. You and I were alike, in so many ways.

He was the cause of your pain, as you are mine. Yet, he is the reason for your happiness, as you are to me.

So, Maria, I gritted my teeth, held my emotions back, and threw away the gun. If he brings you happiness, I will never bring him harm.

I wondered what I should do after that. Well, I was running low on cash. So, I decided to look for a job. I had no diploma, no experience, and no documents to support my identity, other than the Birth certificate I was given, and it was a challenge to find a place that would accept me as an employee. Not to mention, I feared someone would recognize me as the murderer from Rancho Buenaventura

Would you like me to continue with this? Would you be comfortable listening to my experiences in life?

I hope it's okay because I can't think of anything to tell you right now. So, let me begin by saying, I worked as a butcher.

Are you wondering why I chose to work as one? There's no particular reason, other than, I didn't have papers and I felt comfortable with a knife.

I worked at a place called Meat Me. Yes, I know it's a funny name, but I'm certain, it is also familiar to you. Is it not Maria? That was where you often bought your meat from. You never saw me of course, that's because I was stationed at the back of the shop. I was tasked to chop an entire cow, sometimes pig, every day, and every day, I saw you walk up to the man behind the meat stand and asked for red meat.

I want you to know that I never intended to follow you or be near your house, since the day I swore not to hurt your husband. But Maria, why were you always buying red meat? You were never a fan of it. Why were you always asking for the same cut? It felt weird.

After four months of watching you-but first, allow me to say this before you make assumptions, it was only due to sheer curiosity that I followed you.

My only intention was to understand.

As I've mentioned earlier, after four months, I followed you home, but when I got closer to your house, something didn't look right.

Maria, why was your husband standing on the porch beside a woman, with his arms wrapped around her waist? Why was he smiling at her sweetly? Why were your in-laws smiling and acknowledging her like she was your husband's wife? Why did you just walk past them with your head bent? Why didn't any of them acknowledge your presence? What the hell was wrong with your family?

Maria, my Maria, why did you sleep inside your daughter's room that night, while that woman took the spot beside your husband's bed?

One more thing, you have only been married for more than two years, why did you have a six-year-old daughter?

I continued working in that meat shop, and as the weeks went by, I learned about the gossip. Your firstborn was the fruit of that awful day. I'm so sorry Maria. I should have chosen to stay by your side and not go after your rapist. I should have remained beside you and taken care of you. If I was there, I could have been your husband. I could have been the father of that child. Because Maria, I would have treated you better.

As I continued to watch you and your family, I saw how you were treated, I saw the indifference your husband had for your firstborn. I saw how he brought home a new woman every week.

I watched how you broke down every night. But still, I couldn't bring myself to kill him. Why? Because he still brought happiness to you. You still smiled whenever he came home alone and gave you a hug, a peck on the cheek, and a nod.

My heart kept breaking as I watched with difficulty how your married life unfolded before my eyes. Were simple gestures of love enough for you Maria? I didn't think so, because you're worth more than that. You deserved more than a simple kiss on the cheek.

Maria, I'm so sorry.

I felt torn. I didn't know what I should do. If at that time I took his life, it would have broken you. I didn't want to be the reason for your pain. That's his job, not mine. But I swore to protect you, what must I have done?

I apologize if I allowed that to continue. I was so confused. What was the right thing to do?

Merry Christmas Maria. I'm still here, I'm always here.

Love Forever

Your Silent Knight.