My Dearest Ethan,
My mother once told me that letter writing is truly the sincerest way to bestow your deepest and most hidden emotions. Whilst my feelings and emotions run deeper than the very blood in my veins, you and I both know that there are no secrets. Nothing that we have and hold closes is a secret, not now.
Admittedly, I am not fond of the written words that stain and conceal themselves within the page. You cannot amend a letter; you cannot retrieve it once it has left your hands. I suppose this is the reason that I have chosen not to let it go. That, and the fact that I am not aware of your current address, or whether there is an address to send a letter to at all. Would you believe that I have over eight-hundred and sixty-two letters stored away at my disclosure? I must confess that all of them are written to you. I could not bear to let them all go, even though I am certain that the recipient of these letters has left me now. That is only a small part as to why I do not let them leave my chamber though, a small part of this is in the tireless worry that these letters would somehow end up in the wrong hands, yet my main motive of this seclusion is because these letters contain a part of my soul. I am not so frivolous as to give that away so easily, as I fear that it is sought by many and taken by others. That was my secret. Something that I so desperately wanted, no, needed to keep to myself. Yet, it seems that fate designed it not to be so.
Many of the people that I have known longer than I have known you have not seen all of me. The term sounds strange, but not even Sir Malcolm can understand what you have witnessed where my states are concerned. However, I know that you fear what I saw of you that night in Ms. Poole's accommodation, more so than any fear I have ever seen within you.
I will not comfort you about your past. I, of all people understand that pity and delicacy are not wanted when the individual feels that they do not warrant nor deserve it. I know that you wish to be punished for what you have done, but I also implore you to believe that what I witnessed that night did not make you a monster, for if you are a monster I must be the ruler of all sins, and I like to believe that there is some goodness in me yet. Punishment does not replenish your soul; it just creates more time for you to think about what has occurred. I have been a lost soul for so long, wondering whether there will ever be a single person that I could ever confide in. I will be brutally honest that even I, when seeing you with a drink in your hand and a gun in your holster, thought it would be you for even a second, yet so much has changed between us that I cannot bear to be apart from you.
I want to be strong and I am determined to carry on. Sir Malcolm once said that we walk alone, I did not think about it then but the statement contradicts itself. Even when we were 'walking alone' there was always someone. Now every soul that once resided within this place has disappeared, leaving nothing but empty memories and desolate loneliness. Everything has wilted in my life and I feel as if I have lost my purpose, though I was always unsure of what it was in the very beginning I always assumed that I had one. I confess into thinking that you were my purpose. I thought I had be secretive, but perhaps it was obvious from the moment I turned the card that prophesised us to be the lovers. Even Satan himself knew of my secret desires.
My father used to tell me stories when I was younger, fairytales as it were. With Princesses and Dragons and Witches and Princes. Once the evil was vanquished the Princess and the Prince were to live a happily ever after. I never assumed myself to be a princess, and I certainly never saw you as my knight in steel armour, I did not even wish for a happily ever after. I did, however, wish for comfort, perhaps love, but most of all I wanted peace. Surely we had vanquished the evil of Ms Poole? Surely this time was ours, to spend it as we wish to? Yet here I am, alone, in a house that was once so warm and inviting. The darkness that pervades my soul now matches the darkness within the confinements in which I have unhappily stayed. It has taken what feels like an eternity, but I have come to the realization that it is you who lights up each room in which you enter, and most importantly, it is you who lit up my heart each time my eyes fixed upon yours. Now you are gone, and I fear that I will never feel that lightness again.
I wish desperately to know where you are. For the first four months of your voluntary arrest I stood on the fourth step leading to the second floor. I was convinced that I would not hear any telegram deliveries otherwise. That fourth step anchored me somewhat. Any higher up and I would not be able to hear, yet any closer down to the door and I felt that I was tempting fate too much. I stayed there for hours, fixated upon the fact that if I moved I would not hear. I did not eat nor did I leave the house. It was only after the fourth month that I stopped waiting at the fourth step, because I could not bear turning my back on the door each time the clock rang eight, signalling twilight. I have not looked at the door since, there must be many letters that remain untouched, because the disappointment would be too heavily weighed when I finished opening the letters and came to the conclusion that none would be from you.
I know that you are still breathing upon this Earth. You are above ground, breathing, I can feel it as strongly as if my fingers were resting against your wrist, the steady thrum of your pulse beating through the pads of my fingers. Each beat would remind me of the waltz that you practiced with such fierce severity at Ballantrae Moor. I wish for you to return to London, I wish for you to return to me, yet each day the door remains unopened, and the darkness continues to overwhelm every essence of my being.
Why could I not leave with you? I asked you if I could go. Our lives would not be entwined with safety and certainty, but if our bodies, minds and souls were together then surely we could face anything - including our past sins. I could close my eyes and perhaps fool myself into thinking that if I knew where you were I would promptly send you this letter. Alas, my thoughts and my love for you will remain unknown.
Your acceptance of me, my darling, meant everything and more. I had never been truly loved by another until you entered my life. Perhaps it is rather presumptuous to assume that you love me, yet I can feel it. That is the true beauty of our connection Ethan, our ability to feel one another with the need for physical touch or the spoken word. I do not care about what force takes over your form, just as you do not heed what takes over my own. Please come home to me. I am so afraid without you. Every moment feels like a terrible dream, one that I cannot wake from. I cannot see the light that you brought into my life anymore and it frightens me desperately that the light may be dying out completely.
Return to me,
With love always,
Your Vanessa.
