Chapter 15 - The Prison Visit
One week before Logan's formal criminal sentencing, I drove out to the federal correctional facility in upstate New York.
I sat in a small, windowless visitation room, separated from the inmate chair by a thick panel of bulletproof glass.
The heavy metal door opened, and Logan was led inside by two armed corrections officers.
He was wearing a orange prison jumpsuit, his hair buzzed short, his once-flawless skin pale and broken out with stress.
He sat down heavily, picking up the black telephone receiver with shaking, handcuffed hands.
I picked up my receiver, looking at him with absolute, unwavering calm.
"Maya..." Logan whimpered through the speaker, tears immediately streaming down his hollow cheeks.
"Look at you... you're beautiful... your face is completely healed..."
"My face is healed, Logan," I said, my voice smooth and devoid of any hatred.
"But your life is over."
"Maya, please... speak to the judge at my sentencing next week," Logan begged, pressing his forehead against the cold glass.
"They're talking about giving me twenty years! I won't survive twenty years in here!"
"I'm losing my mind, Maya! Nobody visits me! Rachel signed a plea deal that puts all the blame on me!"
I leaned closer to the glass, my eyes narrowing slightly.
"You asked Ryan who would ever want me after what you did to my face, Logan," I reminded him softly.
"Now look at you."
"No fans, no money, no career, no freedom."
"Who would ever want you now?"
May you like
Logan gasped, pulling back as if he had been slapped across the face, his shoulders slumping in complete, total defeat.
I hung up the phone, stood up from my chair, and walked out of the room, leaving him sobbing hysterically into the glass.
