(no subject)
*rubs at his forehead*
My Lucy's here. I can bearly believe it myself, but she's here. Or... something that used to be my Lucy, my love, my sweet fiancee, is here. I only wish I could have taken her away to be married before this all began, with her mother and my parents all fell ill, and then she...
The time I saw her-- the last time I really saw her was, I suppose, when she died. She was lovely, in her white dressing gown, golden curls spread across her pillows, and when I kissed her forehead and watched her eyes close, I couldn't help but imagine that she had found peace. She hadn't. And then the second time-- it was horrible. I couldn't let anyone else, so I... all I truly remember from that night was the strength of my grasp on the stake. It was unfaltering, but then my hands wouldn't stop shaking for days. It's odd how things turn out sometimes.
The memories are terrible. But nothing so terrible-- so secretly wonderful-- as seeing her again. I know my love, know the look in her darling eyes, and that wasn't her. I know this, and I tell myself... but nothing stops my heart from yearning for her. She's not right, and nothing's right.
I had a few too many drinks with John and Quincey in the mansion last night. Why does this typist girl want me to say that nothing happened? Of course nothing happened. Times like this, it seems a good bottle of brandy and understanding friends is what a man needs.
My Lucy's here. I can bearly believe it myself, but she's here. Or... something that used to be my Lucy, my love, my sweet fiancee, is here. I only wish I could have taken her away to be married before this all began, with her mother and my parents all fell ill, and then she...
The time I saw her-- the last time I really saw her was, I suppose, when she died. She was lovely, in her white dressing gown, golden curls spread across her pillows, and when I kissed her forehead and watched her eyes close, I couldn't help but imagine that she had found peace. She hadn't. And then the second time-- it was horrible. I couldn't let anyone else, so I... all I truly remember from that night was the strength of my grasp on the stake. It was unfaltering, but then my hands wouldn't stop shaking for days. It's odd how things turn out sometimes.
The memories are terrible. But nothing so terrible-- so secretly wonderful-- as seeing her again. I know my love, know the look in her darling eyes, and that wasn't her. I know this, and I tell myself... but nothing stops my heart from yearning for her. She's not right, and nothing's right.
I had a few too many drinks with John and Quincey in the mansion last night. Why does this typist girl want me to say that nothing happened? Of course nothing happened. Times like this, it seems a good bottle of brandy and understanding friends is what a man needs.