When he signed up for the inmate penpal program he didn’t expect a lot. Certainly not this. Not you.

Simon devoured your letters. He read about your days, your past, your dreams, he pinned the pictures you sent if yourself to the wall, he used his limited phone calls to chat to you.

Several dozen letters were exchanged, until he found out rather abruptly that he was getting released early on parole.

At first he couldn’t wait to tell you, but then he thought better of it.

Two weeks later and Simon tutted inwardly at the lacking security in your house. Anyone could just come in. Lucky it was just him.

He picked the lock to your door with ease and slipped inside.

Your picture did not do you justice, he realised as he looked at you.

Simon sat on the edge of the bed and traced your jawline with gloved fingers.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured. “Wake up.”