Dear Reader,
The following work was found sealed in the library of a castle, belonging to an ancient noble family, in the Champagne region to the east of Paris. The dates of the events contained within are attributed to sometime in the 18th century. It appears that any other record of the Marquis featured within, and the estate that he kept, have since been expunged from historical record. It is as if there was an omertà (conspiracy of silence) which sought to erase him entirely from collective memory - one that might have succeeded if not for the astonishing recovery of these letters.
It has been my duty to act as caretaker to this work since I agreed to its restoration. I have found, regrettably, that my colleagues have failed to grasp the momentous importance of these letters and their wider significance. There is, I admit, some question of authenticity that requires consideration. For my part, I have forcible reasons to believe that these letters are genuine. I have submitted the work to a broader audience, however, for precisely this object; I have hope that, by breaking outside the narrow remit of literary academia, I may yet find a willing readership committed to studying these letters as seriously as I have.
As the Judge might once have heard it, so the Reader shall hear it now.
Unfortunately, I must also include a notice of warning: the letters of Charlotte B--- speak of diabolical horrors and the direst human cruelty. I believe that, were these letters recognised, they would take the place as the first of the modern écritures maudits (damned writings), above de Sade or Corbière. Hence, I recognise that such subject matter is certainly not for everyone.
Should you decide to turn to more pleasant reading, I certainly could not blame you. The world can be a sombre and unforgiving place without having to reflect on its grimmest parts.
The choice to continue, Reader, is entirely your own.
Yours faithfully,
Dr. Samuel J. Collins
Still mourning from the untimely death of her mother, and a week before leaving the Nassau county with her best-friend, and with that, everything else she had ever known,
Sol find herself wrongfully charged and incarcerated for the murder of a member of her family.
Already depressed at the idea of her once-promising future now marred by the bleak confine of a prison cell,
she now also has to the deal with the fact that she has just caught the eyes of a man, whose power and reputation for brutality alone precede him.
.......
"Little flower" , He said, his fingers gently tilting my head up to look at him.
"Yes", I breathlessly exhaled
"If you ever speak to me like that again, I will rip your fucking throat out.", He continued with a terrifying smile.
......
- And because his ancestors were never picky about their business endeavours, partly due to their direct ties to royalty, and due to their connections to upper-class members of the justice system in Europe and eventually in North America and Asia, the man's family had been direct benefactors of both world wars due to their involvement in the weapon industry, and as suppliers of the adrenaline-pumping drug both the Germans and the French/Americans were injecting in their soldiers before sending them to battle.
It's safe to say the man's power knew no bound or restrain.
Power that carried through with every single one of the man's actions. Indeed, The man never yelled and never raised his voice, he never had to. The man was curt in his speech. His deep, raspy, baritone voice almost always resonated through with the same monotonous tone. Unless it was to handle his bi-daily entertainments, which were often eccentric in genre and deriving from eclectic sources.
It was only then, you'd see the man's eyes twinkle with amusement, frequently at the expense of others. -
______
WARNING
[Contains mature, potentially triggering content]