Alec Stoke - A monologue

Tess tries my patience every day; blemishing her face with scars of lost innocence and melancholy whilst moving in our home as a vacant tenant. I lived in ignorance; blissful ignorance, satisfied with only her physical presence. Perhaps I was wrong; perhaps I lived in vain whilst only her family's contentment breathed as my justification. I could never make her understand my sick twisted love, and whilst she shrieks at me to her hearts content, I realise that I couldn't possibly make her understand it now.

But I am a D'Urberville, and nothing is impossible.

My sweet possession continues to scream; savage words mould themselves around strawberry kissed lips, her rage empowering the seemingly ordinary conversation.

She was insatiable.

Movements predetermined and critical, she victimises me in a heartbeat; prompting me to recall the day those illusive eyes and unruly mouth imprisoned me. The day I became what my mother had always despised; the day I became obsessed. I can picture it now, Mother perched on her grand throne in a room occupied by exotic feathers and melodious songs (or so she says, apparently the impaired vision has heightened other senses), the ill name of D'Urberville indelibly tattooed onto her name and eyes narrowed in bleak, obscure dismay. She was my mother and yet she was not.

But now, Tess's' searching eyes hold something more than innocence: they hold disgust.

Thick with emotion, her voice wavers, hesitant in its act of justice with a single line, "YOU are at fault! You had me believe he was gone, that my own husband was the reason for my misfortune!" Her body recoiling from my gentle advances, she spews words that offer only resentment. Both enigmatic and jarring. I stand there in our lavish bedroom, drifting precariously between the borders of delirium and lucidity. Oh! Was it wrong of me to expect honest gratitude for the luxuries I gave her; her and her wretched family? Lathering her in the jewels, clothes and the tranquil life that every woman desires, but still there was only contempt.

But she forgets my name is D'Urberville, a man whose mere presence demands reverence and restraint. I will not be belittled by a meagre woman who expedites through life, weeping at its impediments. Startled by my provoked callousness, I breathe the perfumed luxury of my captive and tell myself that it's only Tess: sweet yet problematic Tess.

My hard ways are behind me; instead I must find solace in deceit.

And so it begins. My voice rising higher with each word, each word impeding on to the next with recklessness, transforming in to a slurry of emotion. "He never loved you, don't you see! The man you call your husband is a coward who deceived you. I would never have done that... I am the only one worthy of your love" I whisper, "Open your eyes, my darling" I wait for her earnest apology, receiving only misplaced scorn; full lips crying out in derision "You manipulated me. Echoing promises of abundance and stability but yet there is so little... there is always so little" she declares her words cynically, a broken record; as if they offer protection, as if her hollow words hold any meaning to me. Does she think me senseless? That I do not see the vague bleakness etched permanently onto her skin? She does not give me enough credit, for I see her as no other man has. I see her as mine.

It was then when the struggle began.

Tess does not stop, prolonging the defence of her returning husband; hardening her tone, sharpening her tongue, refining her bitterness till all that lasts is the empty vessel of a woman I once knew.

And only then does she stop when I stop. When I stop moving, stop speaking, stop listening, stop understanding everything she yearned to be understood.

Looking back, I think I did see the shining object in her hand; the threatening way in which she stood and the blazing fury encompassing her tear-stained eyes. I think I did see... But I did not want to.

I knew she would be the death of me, I just didn't quite know how.

"I suppose I am a bad fellow - a damn bad fellow. I was born bad, and I have lived bad, and I shall die bad. "