9/8
Carol,
Hi.I haven't written to you for a while, so I figured it's about time that I did so. In case you hadn't heard from somewhere else, I'm going back to school - back to Saltonstall, in fact. I'm studying art full-time now. That's what I really wanted to do. It just took me this long to realize it. I haven't run across Kristin yet, but I'm planning to call her soon.
On that note, I should update you on what I've been up to lately. I've met this woman, Racine. She's a student here. She's really attractive, and smart, but a little wild. OK, she's a lot wild. Body piercings and tattoos, some that I've seen, and I suspect some more of each in places I haven't seen yet. That's just scratching the surface. (So to speak.) There's a lot going on behind that neo-punk exterior. She's also into this weird pagan-like religion. Fairly typical youth rebellion stuff... I think.
Not really my type, you say? I wouldn't have said so either, but somehow we clicked. In fact, If you had asked me last year, I wouldn't have said that I would be going out with anyone at this point, much less someone so close to the edge as Racine. It seems radically removed from the sort of life that I have led. Well, people sometimes change, even if they have to work damned hard at it.
We've seen each other a few times, and get along great. (Shocking, isn't it?) I think we balance each other out. It helps that I'm older, too. She's well read, and we get to discuss a lot of obscure philosophies, authors, and artists that no one else has heard of. She might be just the person to bring me out of my "shell" and into real life. Whatever that might be.
I admit that the thought of a relationship with her is both exhilarating and terrifying. I never really got over Kristin, you know. (Please don't mention this to her.) I don't want to jeopardize whatever might come of me and Racine because of her shadow falling over us. Not only is it kind of pathetic and embarrassing, I want to be able to stop dwelling on the past. Carpe diem and all that.
Maybe then, for once in my life, I can stop running away from things. This may be my last chance to stand up, take a deep breath of life and experience what's really out there. I've been stifled by my own fears for a long time. So long that I don't know if I can break out and live uninhibited. I feel as though I've squandered what should be the most passionate years of my life, and my art will suffer from that. It's like a grey haze has been drowning me and me art for years. I need to be able to burn that haze away.
I've been holding myself back from life, and my art. I can't tell you how hard it was to gather up the courage to see if she really did like me, especially after Kristin. Damn, I'm doing it again. But my painting is already getting better. I'm rendering these amazing things from my dreams - vibrant and alive. I haven't been able to show them to anyone else yet, but at least I'm getting them onto canvas. I never had the courage to paint anything so personal before, so honest. I'm getting better at this, my painting is finally becoming something I can feel proud about. (I've even asked Racine to pose for me...) So I guess things are looking up for me. Maybe I'll see you if you come out to visit. Take care.
Sincerely,
Dave
9/28
Dear Carol,Here I am again. Not for much longer, I hope. After four years of undergraduate and three working on my doctorate, I think I will have just about filled my quota here. Although it hardly seems like the same place we roamed as freshpersons. Everybody is so young... I went to one party last weekend - yeah, I know, but I had to get away from my work for a while - anyway, there was this one cute, kind of well-built guy there that I was watching, and before too long, he noticed and started staring at me, smiling just too much - the usual. I think he was trying to be subtle, but who can tell? You know, it was tempting... But then it hit me - this guy is still of the age that thinks that posters of semi-naked Barbie-doll women with "Budweiser" on them are de rigueur bedroom decorations.
Haven't I outgrown this sort of guy? Don't I deserve a promotion?
No time for that, anyway. I've got loads of work to do. I think I've got a title for my thesis - "Man: Sage and Terror, a study of patriarchical societies and the control wielded through religion and superstition". I've found some great sources. Some of them are totally tangential, but great fun to read nonetheless. And I've also come up with some fantastic theories. I'll probably be able to fit in some really wild and zany sub-theories in the sidelines, too.
Oh, you know who I ran into the other day? Remember David Plaistow? Yep, he of the puppy-dog eyes. I haven't thought about him for years. I think he's over me. You never can be too careful, though. He says he's met somebody, and from the way he's talks it seems to be pretty serious. I hope he knows what he's getting into. He always had a tendency to fall for things a little too far, too fast.
And too deeply. I guess it was that vulnerability that made it impossible for me to reciprocate. He made me feel like his mother, or big sister, having to save him from... I don't know what. Maybe himself. But he does seem a little more self-assured. She might be good for him. We both know I wasn't.
She was almost all he talked about - how she had given him new inspiration for his paintings, and how he was getting so much more from life. He says she makes a great model. I hope he doesn't get too obsessed with her. We've seen that happen before. Ahem.
I accepted an open-ended invitation to take in dinner with them at some point, but I don't know when - or if - that'll happen. Still, I have to admit I'm curious. He seemed determined to introduce us, although vaguely frightened of the prospect, too. I don't blame him for that, that takes guts. I don't even know why he's putting himself through this. It would be so much easier just to not introduce us.
So, when are you coming up here to visit, anyway? You can even bring along what's-his-name, the Hulk. (Don't tell him I said that.) But do come to visit soon, please. I'm getting a little too involved with my work. I need to talk to someone about utterly trivial things, about the world outside, the here and now. And write back soon, too.
Love ya,
Kristin
11/7
Yo - Carol,I am not jealous! Sheesh.
I am sorry to hear about the fight between you and what's- his-name. You didn't have to let him read my personal letter to you. And you certainly didn't have to tell him that you were the one who came up with that nickname for him. None of his business. But seriously - if he's going to fly off the handle about a silly nickname, what's going to happen if there's real trouble? I know I've never been very supportive of your relationship with him, but as a friend, let me tell you that he's not doing anything for you. He's too much into his own perfect body.
I'm sorry I'm being such a pessimist about this, but I can't help it. You definitely deserve better than him. If the only reason you're staying with him his so you don't have to move back in with your parents, only for a little while... Well, that's no reason. You should find some guy who cares for you at least as much as himself. At least find one with a sense of humor, for crissake. You're too good for old Hulk. Tell him I said so.
So... if you two break up, will you come visit me then? (Ha. Signora Machiavelli strikes again.) I'm too wonky from sleep deprivation to be a usefully compassionate friend right now. We can talk seriously when you come out here. You are, aren't you? Well, I can always hope. Anyway, there's always work to distract me from... well, work.
Things are pretty darn hectic. I have more than enough research of my own to fill up most of my time. I've got my coffee machine set up on my desk, just beneath my lamp. Lots of caffeine, lots of sugar. The lost fountain of all- nighters. It's the only thing I can fit up here, besides my computer and stacks of notes. Even my phone is on the floor, buried by notes, books and hard copy.
My only class this semester is "Exotic Theologies" with Dr. Coyote. She's great. There are some pretty weird people in that class, though. People who are taking the class more as a sampler of religions, rather than a scholastic endeavor. Or there are a few people who have decided which religion they like, and are so convinced they made the right choice, they can't fathom why everyone else hasn't. We have the obligatory fundamentalist Christian - only one, thankfully. But there are a few others, an Islamic convert, and a Buddhist. The Buddhist is a lot cooler about it, he'll only cut the others' arguments to shreds when they try to convert him.
We have one or two people I can't quite place. One woman - well, girl - is contemptuous of just about everybody in the class, even Dr. Coyote. This kid implies that she knows much more about life (and death) than any of us. She doesn't try and convert anyone, mostly because she seems to think it would be wasted on us. She has that annoying sort of arrogance that feels that it doesn't need to prove itself. Just the sort of person that rubs me the wrong way. She doesn't take the class seriously at all; she comes in late or never. She typically swaggers in at fifteen minutes past the hour, throwing her books on the floor (she never takes off her leather biker jacket), dropping into a seat, and muttering little asides about how this or that isn't quite accurate, how she "knows better". Brrr.
Did you know they're tearing down the mini-apartments on Fourth and Lawson? Ah, the good old days. Back when we thought it was a miracle to get off-campus housing, never mind that it was an entomologist's dream. Just the four of us, living off the land, wild and free... Well, sort of. Gah, I'm getting dizzy. More caffeine. All work and no play makes Kristin a giddy kitty. Must sleep. Goodnight.
Loves and Hugs,
Kristin
11/25
Hey Carol,Guess what? Now, remember, I have written, dated proof of my innocence - err... honesty. I ran into Dave again, about a week or so ago. We agreed to have dinner that Saturday - him and me and his girl. It turns out to be the one from "Exotic Theologies". Brrr. (You saw this coming, didn't you?)
Now, you made no comment on my last letter over this girl - "Racine", she calls herself - about me sounding jealous over her, so don't start now. I had already made up my mind impartially and fairly. I can't stand her.
She was a little more accessible in a social setting than in class, though. She was bragging about whatever it is she adheres to, "It's so much more... real than Wicca or anything like that," she boasted. So she's trying to convert me now. Great. I liked her better when that sort of thing was beneath her.
She seemed awfully defensive with me around. It was odd to see her look so anxious. I think she's afraid of losing him to me. It's comforting in a way, to see that she does have flaws and insecurities. It made her seem almost human. It's lets be believe that Dave might have fallen for someone who actually does care for him in return...
She had that look in her eyes that I've learned to recognize. The look of a tigress protecting her catch, or her young. She was tense, as though she were preparing to spring with claws fully extended, hissing. It was actually rather unsettling. I don't think he noticed. But, the more we talked about old times, the more fiercely protective she became. Finally, she interrupted us.
"Dave - you're right. We should share more of our lives. I've been keeping you in the dark about so much of what I do..." She hesitated. It was touching, really - she was preparing to sacrifice her privacy, just to keep him. It must have been as hard for her as this dinner had been for him. But she was still uncertain - what if she gave it all up, for nothing? What if he still wanted to be with me, after all? I felt particularly uncomfortable being the silent, unwilling partner in this game of one-upmanship.
"You know I've been studying the Rites of Binding. Lets go into the woods tonight. We can perform the ritual tonight. It needs a man and a woman. We can do it together." The die was cast. I watched them both, as the game unfolded. She looked almost as though she was expecting someone to call her bluff. I already felt guilty enough as the catalyst - I couldn't say anything. Even if I knew what to say. He agreed, enthusiastically. It took a lot out of her to propose, I could tell, but it worked.
He had been lecturing me on his recent improvements in style and technique, the combination of colors, and the use of light. But he forgot all that in the wake of her suggestion. He must have had some idea what she was talking about. I didn't, but I still didn't like the look on her face when he agreed. She glanced at me for a moment, with a glimmer in her eyes and a twist in the corners of her mouth that said, "I've won, I've beaten you."
That look made my stomach clench a little. I thought that it was a little premature for her to be celebrating, but it still bothered me. I felt free to dislike her again. I tried to get David to start talking about his work again, but he was distracted by the promise of being able to share this bit of her life. He only answered my questions distractedly. She held him raptly, only pausing to cast a victorious glance at me every once and a while.
It seemed likely that sex was at least an element of her invitation. (Probably a fair bit of the basis of there relationship - he found someone who won't hold out on him.) I didn't hear anything to dissuade me of this opinion. Whatever it was, she had really reached down deep to impress him. In class, when she bothered, she had never missed a word of recitation. But this one must have been unfamiliar to her, because she assured him they could study it further before they began.
Eventually, I got him back to talking about his paintings. "I'm getting closer to the edge," he would say. He really got into this whole Jim Morrison ideal of going over the top in the name of his art. You know he was always particularly dissatisfied with his work; he never thought it had the right amount of dementia. He may just get it from Racine, who's never seemed to be in short supply of that sort of thing. While Morrison went over the top in sex and drugs, Dave is going over the top in, well - Racine. He's gotten all caught up in her life (which might still involve a fair amount of drugs... and sex.)
Our dear friend Dave is in for some unpleasant surprises, I think. I shudder to think, actually. If he's falling for someone like her - she'll wrap him around her skinny little finger and just keep tightening... Snap.
Still he's got more energy and determination than I've ever seen. I have to admit, he looks happier than ever. I only hope the momentum he's gaining from this relationship doesn't drag him over the edge and back down into the pit. I've seen it happen before. I've seen it happen to him before. But I don't know how to get them apart, or even if that is really the best thing for him right now. Time will tell...
Well, I've got to go see if there's any turkey left over from the feast my house mates threw. Then back to my work. (I got one of those warehouse-sized cans of instant coffee not too long ago, and I'm already starting to run out.) Sigh.
Yours in Exhaustion,
Kristin
12/10
Carol,Jingle bells, jingle bells... Only fifteen days 'til Christmas! I want Santa to bring me a new coffee maker, this one is inadequate. I must make do with Jolt, Mountain Dew and lots of sugar. Bleah. Are you going to be home for Christmas? I'm not. This is my home nowadays. But if you felt like a couple days' drive, you could come and visit me here. Come on, it's not that far...
I've seen Dave around campus occasionally, when we were both furtively stocking up on supplies to last us in our respective hidey-holes. He seems to have gotten a little more reserved, not shy like he was before, just quiet. He hasn't really had much time to talk to me when I have run into him. He's always in a rush to get back home. I guess I'm not used to that. Especially not from him.
I haven't seen Racine in class or anywhere else. I suppose she has just completely given up on going to class and is living in sin with Dave full-time now. Probably thinking of more religions she is superior to. He seems content for now. OK, more than content. Over-flowing, perhaps. What is it about her that makes him into such a slave to her whims? You know I'm not superstitious, but I can't help but think of all the ceremonies she performs in the blackest night - eye of newt, wing of bat, and all that sort of thing. I have little doubt that she has tried to cast spells on him, even if they were only in her mind. What if he has gotten that wrapped up in her ceremonies? Maybe her spells could have a sort of placebo effect on him. Is he that naive? Or am I that cynical? Or am I that jealous?
No, don't say anything. I really don't want to know. I've got enough on my mind. Work, work, work.
Speak of the devil. I step out for just a minute to get some more soda, and I ran into him at the store. I asked him if he'd like to go out for coffee at some point, maybe dinner. At first he was reluctant. He seemed eager to get away. Almost like the old David for a moment. Then he suddenly remembered that Racine was going to be home for Christmas break, and he offered to cook dinner for me. Gotta love a guy that cooks. Oh, damn. I'm trembling. Hmm. That's OK. It's probably just the Mountain Dew. I've had a lot tonight already.
Ick. There are little soda cans dancing at the foot of my bed. Those had better be hallucinations. I'll be really ticked off if not. Maybe they're just telling me to go to sleep.
Say "Hi" to your family for me.
Love,
Kristin
12/26
Carol,Dave came over last night, bringing food, wine, and himself. He cooked the most amazing meal, ever so capable. He's changed. In all the ways I wouldn't have expected, knowing the relationship that he has with her. He's got really amazing self-confidence and strength. And even while he was in my kitchen, cooking a meal for me, he was still very much in charge of himself. In charge of the whole situation, really.
I can't believe this is the same little boy that chased me around for over a year with that look of helpless devotion. Of course it wasn't the same little boy - that was years ago. This was a different person entirely - a man fully in charge of his own destiny. (At least, apart from that witch.) I suddenly realized just how attractive he had become. I was stumbling over my sentences, and my hands just wouldn't sit still.
When did he get so sexy? His vulnerability didn't disappear, but it was well concealed. Later in the evening, we had scavenged some wood for the fireplace, and we were basking before it, sipping wine. He was massaging the semester out of my neck muscles, and one thing did indeed lead to another. After a little while, he stopped, looking away from me, and staring into the crackling embers. I heard him gasp painfully, and he whispered, "No, I won't do this to her."
Ironically, hearing that admission of helpless devotion and fidelity made me need him that much more. It was an admission of humanity within that pillar of strength. Never mind who it was for. And, aside from the warmth I felt on hearing it, there was also a deliciously sinister sense of conquest. I could take this man and make him forget everything else and love me. I could overcome his fear for him.
I reached out to him, pulling his face away from the fire, and into me. I held him tight, watching the embers die, he protested weakly, but eventually his reluctance evaporated. For good. When he looked at me again, the weakness behind his eyes was gone, replaced by fire. He knew what he wanted, and he wanted me.
He was amazing. I hadn't felt so good for a long, long time. I don't think I've spent that much time in bed for months, and I don't even recall sleeping until after he left this morning. I've just woken up from that sleep. Slept like a log. Again, the first time in ages. Every woman should have someone like him.
I have no idea how he's going to tell Racine. Or how she'll react. Maybe she'll put a hex on me or something. Oooh. But, what would happen if she doesn't back down? I'm not sure that he could resist her on his own... If she won't let go, I'll have to figure out some way to get him out of her clutches. She's got to let go of him. For his sake. If she won't listen to reason, than maybe something more dramatic....
I'd still like you to come up and visit. Can you get away from work? Can you get away from what's-his-name? All right, you can bring him along if you really feel it's necessary. I don't suppose he knows how to take care of himself on his own. Maybe he could learn some things from Dave. Maybe we can give him to Racine.
I just reread this letter. Did I really say all that? OK, no more late night writing sessions for you, girl. No more coffee, colas and high-sugar junk food. Well, maybe I'll stop next semester. Take care.
Yours,
Kristin
1/21
Carol,I'm sorry to hear about you two breaking up. It was overdue, but I know it was hard on you. You're always welcome here, of course.
I haven't seen Dave since Christmas. I haven't seen much of anyone, honestly. My paper is in a slump. I keep getting books out of the library, and I read them, take down notes, but nothing seems to jump off the pages anymore. I've just been going through the motions of research and writing. My brain is going. It's all muddled, my theories are messy, and my conclusions are downright dumb. Aaaahhh! Help!
I'm spending too much of my time in bed, not doing much of anything. I hardly go out anymore, just slink away in the middle of the night to some convenience store if I'm really desperate. Which is fairly often, given the way my life is going.
I'm too tense. I wonder if Dave could help me out with that. Where the hell did he go? He hasn't called, and I don't even know where he lives. He's not in the directory, we don't even have any mutual friends here. (Or much of any friends, for that matter.) I'm sure he's with her. But why? Skeevy little bitch. She's got him wrapped around her finger, all right. Very tightly. Wasn't I his ideal woman? You remember him saying that to his friends back then, don't you?
Someday I'm going to give her a piece of my mind. If I could catch sight of him, I could track him back to their lair, and tell that little vermin just what everybody thinks of her.
Yours,
Kristin
2/14
Carol,I've found him. He's living on the other side of town, in some dirty converted warehouse. I haven't seen Racine, but he's buying enough groceries for two. I haven't been able to confront him. It's too much for me, knowing that he's still going back to her. I don't want to show any weakness in front of him, either. What's so special about her? If he really cared about her, would he have slept with me?
No. I've got to talk to her. Tell her that she's in the way. One way or another, she's got to understand. She's got to let go of him. I'm just waiting for her to come out from her lair. Dave is becoming like a fly that can't help but keep returning to the web. He's been going out into the woods on a regular basis, building some sort of ritual fires for her. She's dangerous, and I can't make him understand. I've got to get her out of the picture.
He's coming back out again. I've got to go now.
Kristin
2/19
Carol,It's been hard for me to write for the past couple of days, but I have to. I'm shaking...
I went to David's place the other day, when I knew he wouldn't back for a while... I was insanely jealous. My mind was swimming with horrifying images. I... wanted to scar her, or just hurt her. I had gotten so possessive over him that I hadn't thought of her at all.
It was time for another fire in the woods. I knew he wouldn't be back for some time. After he left, I sat in the my car for a few minutes, trying to think of what to say to her, what I would do if things turned violent. There were many scenes of her face getting cut... I'm not proud, but you should know. There was blood. Blood is poison.
I walked over the building, nervously fingering my keys, letting them jingle slightly. Perhaps a warning. I don't know. I knocked, and there was no response. I thought I had heard a noise, but from the street, I couldn't clearly hear any sounds within. I had assumed she was in there, but I was getting less certain. Maybe she had slipped out when I wasn't looking? I thought of destroying some of her personal things, or wreaking havoc with her room. Is she just ignoring me?
Whatever I was thinking, I hardly hesitated before trying the door. (It wasn't locked.) The living room was a minimalist mess - there were a few old books lying around, some sort of arcana that she was studying. There was also evidence of some sort of rituals - little bits of wax that had been only partially cleaned off, and patches where some sort of powder had been ground into the carpet. A small table and a sofa had been pushed out of the way, but there was very little else there. (I think they had had a stereo and music collection, which they recently sold.)
Once I walked in, I was struck in a powerful, oddly familiar odor. It was a sweetness, but with something sour lingering beneath. Removed from any context, my mind couldn't decide whether to gag or to start my mouth watering. Curious, I continued on into the kitchen. The refrigerator was all but empty, the stove was reasonably clean, and the cabinets were bare. I remember wondering if her religion had some distaste for personal belongings. I checked in the bathroom, which fit the rest of the place - featureless, yet permeated with that odd smell.
There was one door at the end of the barren hallway, slightly ajar. It was the only one left, it had to be their room. Smoldering with jealous hatred, I moved down the hallway. Brushing the door aside, I looked around in the dim light of a few candles. The room was extravagantly decorated compared to the rest of the apartment - there was a dresser, a large mirror, and a bed with a huge pile of rancid laundry upon it.
Above the dresser, lit by several of the candles, were several portraits. The leftmost one he must have painted years ago, while still infatuated with me. It was flattering, but it made me uncomfortable to see it here. The last one I couldn't make out, but the center portrait was Racine, naked, and posing in the thin light of his studio. The stench was strongest in here. I fumbled along the wall for a light switch.
Once the ceiling lights came on, I instantly recognized Racine's black leather jacket on top of the pile. Then the twisting feeling that had been growing in my stomach started going into knots. Something wasn't right with the bed, but I couldn't grasp what. Not until it moved. Not until it uncurled itself and raised its head unsteadily on a neck much longer and elastic than it should have been. One pallid forearm emerged, and pulled it forward unsteadily. Its skin was shriveled, except for the grotesquely distended belly, which dragged across the bedsheets as it crawled from its nest.
The knots in my own belly tightened, and I fell to my knees, retching. I looked up at the creature as it drew close, and I felt an odd sensation amongst the horror and nausea. I felt sympathy for this thing. Somehow, in that instant, I felt I understood it. Looking back on it, I think that is what scares me the most. The thought that I could have anything in common with that monstrosity was unbearable, yet persistent. I felt pity.
Until it spoke. Its voice was guttural, harsh and wet. Its breath stank of rotten apples. It didn't sound unhappy at all. "Hello, Kris. We've been waiting for you."
I can't remember anything clearly after that. I got to my feet. I ran, I stumbled, I thrashed about the apartment in blind panic, trying anything to stop any pursuit. I think it called out after me while I was still in the kitchen, but I don't remember any words. I hope I never do. I fell out of the door into the night and ran. My flight was pure instinctive terror. I wanted to run from all of it, leaving even the memories behind.
I reached my car, having sprinted mindlessly through the rain and a parking lot full of puddles, fleeing from each wet footstep I heard. Even though they were mine, the sloshing sounds made me quiver. I kept glancing back, each time expecting to see it right behind me. I could hear its voice, and smell its breath. Once I reached my car, I clawed at the door for several minutes before remembering my keys. Even then, the panic made my fingers useless and my flustered brain was unable to pick out the right shape.
After an eternity of fumbling, I stopped and fell back against the car. I had lost. The flight was in futile. I can't run away from it. I curled up into a ball, waiting for the end. I listened to the dripping and pouring sounds in the distance with nameless dread. A trickle of rain from the car ran down my back. It helped bring me back to my senses a little bit. It's not going to be able to catch me, I thought. Will it even come out into open? I didn't know.
But then a miracle happened. A flower bloomed in the rain. A beautiful, fiery flower consumed the building entirely. That is the clearest memory I have of that night. It was then that I remembered what I had done in the kitchen during my flight. Still, it didn't feel as though I was watching a consequence of my own actions. That fireball was like Noah's flood - sent from the heavens to purge the earth.
I haven't left my room since that night. I've been staying under my covers, where it's safe and warm. I've asked my roommates to mail this letter. It don't want to go out there again. Can you please come out and talk to me? I'm not asking you to believe me, but I'll go insane if I can't talk to anyone. Take me away from here.
Love,
Kristin
2/27
Carol,I'm late. I hadn't been thinking about it during the past couple of months or so, but I'm late with my period. And I've been throwing up in the mornings recently. They're inside me. They're devouring me. I'm getting thinner. My arms and legs are wasting away. I'm eating everything in sight, and I'm still getting thinner. But my belly is showing.
David did this to me. Racine knew. But she welcomed it. And deep inside, I want it, too. And that frightens me more than anything. I just want to crawl into bed and stay there, let the world go by. But I can remember seeing her delighting in the pain. I know why I felt that sympathy with her. We both loved our children.
Despite the terror in me, I love them even now. They are consuming me from within, eating me alive, and I love them. I want to protect them, keep them from all harm. Isn't that how things work? Isn't the man merely the spark that ignites a woman's eggs? Aren't they mine? Isn't it natural to love your children?
Only this isn't natural, they aren't human. How can they be my children? Oh, what did he do to me? He has called a few times, but I've told everyone I don't want to talk to him. He's even tried to come and see me in person, but luckily they didn't let him in.
Because I don't know if I could resist him. He would take me away, and stick me in a hole, awaiting his children. Just like Racine. But aren't they his children? Doesn't he have a right to them? Doesn't he have a right to continue his bloodline in this world?
Not if his bloodline doesn't belong in this world. They know, I can feel it. They are in my mind. They are slowly eating that away, too. It's easy for them to play with my body and my hormones until they've consumed me whole. Soon I won't even have the strength for a thought of my own. I've got to remember the flower in the rain. If I'm not strong enough, if I can't remember, they'll win.
Either way, this will be the last chance I will have to say goodbye to you. I don't know if you understand or believe me, but if you can, please forgive me. Goodbye.
All my love,
Kristin
3/1
Dear Carol,I am writing because I know you have been Kristin's closest friend since we were all together years ago. I know that mutual friends have called to tell you about Kristin's death and the memorial coming this week. I hear you will be attending. I'm glad. I feel that she would have wanted you to come.
But I do not know how much you know of the circumstances that led up to the unfortunate events recently. Many of us have had reason to question Kristin's sanity. You know that she had been working much too hard on her thesis. For some time, she had been complaining of hallucinations. I personally believe she was becoming paranoid. She had an extraordinary imagination. It wouldn't take much to push her from the sleepless, highly stressed state she was in for so long to one in which she had begun to create a disturbing world of her own, full of God only knows what.
Last Christmas, I went to her house, since our respective house mates had left us alone, (My girlfriend and I had had a fight, so I didn't feel like going to her parents' house - another mistake on my part) we both got rather drunk, and after that, well we got intimate. When I awoke the next morning, I remembered Racine, my girlfriend, and the child of mine she was carrying. I left, and couldn't bring myself to call Kristin again out of shame. This turned out to be a tremendous mistake. I had no idea of Kristin's true state of mind. How could I have?
I should tell you that Racine recently died in a fire of suspicious origin. This is very difficult for me to say, but I suspect Kristin started this fire out of jealousy and paranoid delusions. I had no proof, but after my repeated demands for information, the police did confirm that someone of her description was seen in the area at about the same time.
Please forgive me for speaking this way about her, but I feel I must try and explain where I stand in the wake of all this. I was enraged and terribly confused. That was a terrible loss for me. Again, I was not able to talk to her. And again, this was a mistake. Now have lost the two of the only women I have ever loved. As selfish as it sounds, my anger has no useful outlet anymore. She has deprived me of even that.
Since you knew Kristin better than anyone else, I was hoping that we could get together and try and discover what it was that caused all this suffering. Maybe together we can try to repair some of the damage that has been caused. I hope to be able to fill in the void each of their passing left in the world, if only in some small way. I pray it's not too late. I very much look forward to seeing you in person again.
Until next time,
Dave