Immortal Whispers #2 Villain of My Heart
My dearest Lady Rose,
By the time this letter finds you, I will be gone. Or dead. That choice still remains to be seen, though this is not a concern you should dwell upon. I have made sure all the affairs are in order, you shall never need to work for as long as breath finds your beautiful bosom and your tender heart beats. I know this is sudden, I know this is the actions of villain, but the thought of you baring my child, taking that risk.
Its just not worth it, I cannot bare to see one I love in such a state, so I took the cowards way and run, though my cowardice knows no ends for ending my life maybe the only way I can make amends for the lives I have ruined over countless centuries.
Forgive Me Rose.
Attached is a journal, a chronicling of my sins. Please forgive what I have done to you it is all I can do, all I know how to do.
The villain of your Heart,
Grem D. Hardwick
Rose Hardwick had read that letter everyday for the past twenty one years. The tome like journal had become a constant source of information, hatred, longing, and hurt. Today was different, her time was almost up. The body she had held together during the birth of her daughter twenty ones years go was giving out, her will to live was not enough as age, fatigue, and depression took it’s toll.
“Mother, do you really believe these lies”
“Darla your father, never lied to me” Rose rasped
“Mother this journal is fiction” she stomped her foot before continuing “living for ever, impervious to injury, the ravings of mad coward!”
Rose watch their daughter as her hand frayed the edges of her blouse sleeve. He would do the same to his shirts she thought. That thought made her smile.
“If you do not believe then prove your horrible mother wrong”
“How can I prove that the curse of immortality should have killed me and you during my birth?” Darla asked
“I am dying Darla” Rose saw her daughter look away
“He should have stayed”
“He thought we would die and couldn’t bare to watch us torn torn from him like so many others, but he still held out hope and left us all we could ever need to live off”
Rose pushed up in her bed the strain bringing her a body rattling fit of coughing for the attempt. Her daughter came to her side all rage and confusion gone as she helped her prop up on the lavish silken pillows. In a fit of strength Rose didn’t know she still had in her, she shrugged off the help and pointed to the desk against the far wall.
“There, is a picture of him and the address were my men last heard word of him.”
Her daughter hesitated, rose waived her off as a another fit of coughing shook through her. On the desk the picture looked up at her his steely blue eyes broad stern face oozed power and dignity. He wore his hair as braid he coiled oddly around his neck then let hand down his front. This was her father? She snatched up the picture tears falling as she looked at the man her mother loved and was dying for.
Rose spoke her voice weak, and tired “if you find him, and he is the same as that picture” a cough broke her plea but she quickly forced it away and continued “then love him, be a family with him if not” Rose smiled a smile so dark, so deliriously vengeful that she looked nothing like the women who raised her “then take the pistol in the desk drawer and kill him, the villain of my heart”
As the worlds left her mother she cough so hard it looked as if something tore inside her. Then a trickle of blood appeared at the corner of her mouth and another ran from her nose. She embraced her mother but it was fore naught her mother had slipped away her legacy left to the only family she had left, her daughter.
Darla took a carriage to the address left by her mother a week later. She had packed light the pistol, the picture, and her mothers obituary. The driver pulled in front of what looked like the shambles of a flat that had seen better years.
“Do not wait for me” she said with out looking and entered the building
The dirt, dust, and bleak space couldn’t be called a living space for it barely registered as space. The cramped stairs lead to a cramped foyer. She knocked on the only door there. Nothing. She knocked again. Again Nothing. She cocked the first hammer and pulled the trigger just inches from the door knob. The sounds of splintered and destroyed wood was barely audible over the pistol’s report.
Darla strode in. Sitting in the wreck of a living room was a man who could have been the image freed from the picture in her pocket. He didn’t look a second older than what was captured. He didn’t speak, didn’t stand, only raised his hand to his lips as if to stifle a scream. In that moment Darla darted forward, pistols raised hammer back. The barrel pointed at his forehead and when the warm metal met his flesh it leapt with fire. Her eyes locked with his stricken, lulling orbs as he slump back in the mess that was the physical components for his most inner thoughts.
Breathing heavily she lay the obituary on his still chest, turned and strode toward the door. Content to leave him just as he was something stopped her.
“Her last was love for you, the villain of her Heart…father”
The impossible happened next. He leaned forward, stood and spoke as Darla’s word became nothing. she hit the floor in a heap.
“And I loved her”
This work by Jason G. Banks is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.