Colin Adams
The last few months were hell.
I lost count of how many times I thought about giving up—just walking away from it all and letting go of any hope of ever living a normal life again.
Before I was tortured, I hated God. Deeply.
In my mind, He was laughing at me—laughing while I struggled to move even the smallest part of my body. But later, I realized how meaningless my complaints were. I blamed God for everything, when the truth was, the only person who put me in that position was me.
The first two months were awful. I cursed my body, cursed myself, questioned the promise I’d made to God every single day. I also questioned why I’d become such a bitter man—bitter enough to lose part of my family. But after a while, things started to make sense.
I had no right to question anyone. I’d had free will all along, and like Jennifer, I’d made far too many mistakes in my life. I’d carried resentment, anger, anguish—so many ugly feelings inside me—and over time, they’d only eaten me alive.
The following months were about acceptance, but also about perseverance.
And as strange as it sounds, I started talking to God. In my own way, of course.
I made another promise—that if He made me a better man, I’d give my best every single day. If that happened, I’d understand there was a purpose behind everything.
And lately… I’ve felt something. A strength deep in my chest that’s hard to explain. What I’m about to do—what I’m becoming—was never something the old Colin would’ve even imagined. But I’m not the old Colin anymore.
I never thought I’d say this, but I’ve changed more in six months of mental and physical weakness than in my entire life. Now I value the small things—the little gestures. And because of that, I’ve grown closer to someone I used to curse every day.
God.
I had to walk through hell to appreciate my life and the people around me—and I know now it was the best thing that could’ve happened. Not that I’d ever wish it on anyone else, but I learned lessons I’ll never forget.
Some of my employees needed therapy after what happened at the mansion, and it ate away at me because, well.
.. I didn’t exactly have the best opinion of “psychologists.” But Isabelle insisted that I see one too, and even though I thought it was a complete waste of time at first, I realized how much it actually helped—to talk about everything and nothing at all.
I started to see how my past traumas—whether I liked it or not—were shaping my present. And to move forward, I had to accept what happened to my family.
Accept.
Such an easy word to say, and such a hard one to live.
I used to be a man who refused, under any circumstances, to accept what happened to my daughter.
But now, I see things differently. My biggest problem was that I kept putting all the blame on myself, convinced Maddison’s death was the result of my choices.
I can honestly say I’m getting better at that. I’m nowhere near perfect—hell, not even close. I’m stubborn as they come, and that’s not changing anytime soon. But I can feel that I’m on the right path. And I plan to keep putting into practice everything I learned from those sessions.
I know I’ll keep getting better—with time.
I got ready to go somewhere I’d gotten used to visiting—but this time, for a very different reason.
Just as I was about to leave the mansion, Isabelle stepped in front of me, clearly trying to stop me from going any farther.
“Do you need something?” I asked with a faint smile.
“Colin, please don’t tell me you’re—”
“Calm down,” I cut her off gently. “And before you ask, yes, I’m going to the prison. But this time, it’s different.”
“How could it possibly be different? Every time you go there…”
She stopped mid-sentence. She still didn’t understand what I meant to do.
“Do you trust me?” I asked, pulling her into a warm embrace before pressing a soft kiss to her lips.
“Yes. I do.”
“It’ll be the last time. That’s a promise. I just… I need to free myself from a few things.”
I sat down in the chair across from that man, and before I could say anything he spoke first: “I’m glad you’re okay.”
Yes. Those were his first words when he saw me — and the worst part was that he didn’t sound sarcastic at all, which surprised me even more.
“What do you mean by that?” I asked.
“I heard what happened. You may not believe it, but I prayed for you. I made a lot of mistakes in my past, I admit that, but I’ve become a better person.”
For a few seconds I thought I was dreaming.
The man I had tormented every day I came here was saying he’d prayed for me. Something was off.
“If that’s true… thank you,” I said, and this time it was his turn to look surprised.
“You came here to—”
“To put an end to everything. This is the last time you’ll see me. I’m simply tired; I don’t take pleasure in hurting you anymore, and I won’t do it again. It’s not fair; some things from the past need to stay there.”
I could tell the man was close to tears after hearing that.
I know I’d gone too far during the time he was in prison—I know I was a piece of shit, humiliating him, even mistreating him while he was locked up. But that wasn’t the only reason I’d come here; I needed to do something hard, something I never imagined I would do… not with him.
“This is… very important to me. I was wrong, and there isn’t a single day I don’t regret what I did. I’m sorry, Colin. I was directly responsible for two deaths, and I ruined your life. I ruined your life, and—”
“No.” I smiled, cutting him off. “You didn’t ruin my life. At first I thought you did.”
I paused for a few seconds and looked up, remembering everything that had happened to me. Maddison, Jeniffer…
“I learned to value what I have, and I did it the hardest way possible. I never considered myself a good man—far from it. I’ve always held grudges, been vengeful, and I think you know that.
I hated God and cursed myself for everything that happened, but now I’m okay with myself. What happened wasn’t my fault.”
We sat in silence for a while. Speaking almost normally with him was still hard, but I had to do something—more precisely, I had to say something.
“I know I’ve said this many times already, but please forgive me for everything I did.” He lowered his head.
“Yes. I… forgive you.”
Yes — those were the words I had rehearsed in my head to say to the man who killed my wife and my daughter, and yes, it’s fucking hard to say them to someone who once lived in my head as the worst possible image.
I can admit that before, I only wanted five minutes alone with him in a room to kill him some way, make him suffer like he’d made me suffer, but strangely I had changed.
“This… is serious?” He turned his attention back to me, surprised.
“Yes. We can’t go back, and what happened can’t be undone.
It’s hard for me, and saying these words is even harder, but it’s the right thing, and I want to be at peace with myself.
I need to take care of my son, give him a good upbringing, and move on with my life remembering the good times I had with both Jeniffer and Maddison. ”
“I… I don’t even know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything.” I stood up. “I hope you find peace. We all make mistakes, but now I know remorse can outweigh pain in some cases, and you may be suffering even more than I am for what you did.”
At that moment he began to cry uncontrollably, and I just watched him for a few seconds.
Forgiving the man who killed your daughter isn’t easy, especially when you still carry hatred for him in some way. On top of everything, he used to be a man I respected—a best friend once. But I know it’s the right thing to do.
“I hope one day you can be at peace.”
“Thank you, Colin. This meant a lot to me.”
I didn’t need to say anything else. I walked away. I still had one more place to go. I needed to forgive one more person...
At the cemetery, I made my way to my daughter’s grave, just like I always did.
I brought flowers and placed them carefully on her tombstone, staring at the picture in front of me.
Every time I came here, I cried—and today was no different. I missed Maddison, and that ache… time would never erase it. Maybe, with the years, it would soften, but I couldn’t even say that with certainty.
“Sweetheart… I miss you so much.” I sat down beside her grave, wrapping my arm around the tombstone in the strangest, clumsiest way—but I didn’t care. “I know you’re in a better place, watching over me.”
I looked up at the sky and closed my eyes, trying to feel something—any kind of presence—but there was only silence.
“I’ll never forget the moments we had together.
They’ll stay with me, always—in my heart, in my memory.
I promise. I’ll take care of your brother; he misses you more than you know.
And I want you to know I’m not replacing you.
I know Hanna isn’t my daughter, but deep down, I see her as one.
I think you’d want me to be happy—and for the first time, I’m starting to find a little bit of joy again. ”
I paused, running my fingers over Maddison’s picture. “You’ll always be with me, my love. I love you so much, Maddison.”
I stayed there for several minutes, crying again, letting the emotions take me wherever they wanted. Today was a hard day for me—but a necessary one.
After a while, I stood and moved a few steps to the side. There was still something left to do.
“I never really talked to you.” I looked down at Jeniffer’s headstone. “The anger I carried in my chest was too heavy for words. I won’t lie—it still hits me sometimes, when I remember everything you did. But now, I’m trying to be a better person. And the right thing to do is forgive you.”
Yes, it was the right thing.
“As much as that tragedy tore us apart, I need to let go of the guilt I’ve carried…
and I think you do too.” I stopped, taking a deep breath.
“If there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that you would never have hurt our daughter.
You would’ve died for her—just like I would’ve.
So, what I need to say to you, what I came here to say, is that I forgive you.
I was never a man who could admit his own mistakes, and maybe our relationship fell apart partly because of me too.
The distance between us grew for many reasons—and I played my part in that.
So… that’s it, Jeniffer. I forgive you. And I hope you can forgive me for all my flaws. ”
I stayed in the cemetery a little longer, just standing there, staring at the two graves and remembering the good times we’d shared. There were so many—and they were real. Jeniffer had loved Joshua and Maddison as much as I did, maybe even more. I never doubted that.
“Daddy loves you so much, sweetheart,” I said softly as I turned away.
As I walked out of the cemetery, a strong gust of wind brushed past me, and a shiver ran through me. I didn’t know why, but in my heart, I felt it might’ve been Jeniffer and Maddison—letting me know they were there.
“Thank you for opening my eyes,” I whispered, looking up at the sky in gratitude.