Dear Samuel,
I know it seems I forgot even the thought of you over the last 23 years after the War, but I didn’t. Oh, believe me, I didn’t, there wasn’t a single day, I allowed myself to be carefree and not to think about you, not to imagine your face under my tight-closed eyelids. And there is a reason. Yes, a very good reason to everything: why I’ve been avoiding you for so long, why I disappeared after that Christmas without a word, why I haven’t been answering to any of your letters (which, by the way, I received, all of them). But all that explanations can be given only along with the main one – why had Ellen never came to see you that snowy night of the 25th December 1922, right when you decided to meet for your sweet engagement before the World War I started separated you for the whole three years. Separated all of us, actually, but who cares, right? I’ve stopped to be the part of our trio the moment you became a thing, no, I think even the moment I introduced you to each other and you stole her from me, my dear friend.
I’m such a coward, Sam! Oh, God, if only you knew how much I hated myself for what I’ve done, and how much I hate you, as well. Surprised? I’ve not even started yet with surprises.
It was the Christmas Eve, the best one, the worst one. For all there are reasons, Sam. For everything. And some of them are you. Yes, it was 25th when I saw her for the last time. I remember it vividly. I knew that it was supposed to be your “big day”, but I asked her to come to help me with something, can’t even remember what I made up as my problem now. And she came! Right before your meeting. She came, looking all nervous and beautiful. Still, when I close my eyes, I can see her rose face looking at me with her understanding and kind eyes, in which I always know was a never-ending love and hope in people, even to such a moron I am. I could have told for the look at her eyes that she knew what was going to happen if she came that evening. But she came. She came, because she was an exceptional person and a good friend, the best one I ever had. But just friend was never enough for me. I was so hopelessly jealous to you. Oh, my dear, you can’t even imagine, how much I hated you for you to be chosen by her over me. I hated you from the very moment she looked at you with these flattered loving eyes.
And you’ve never known! Not about my hate, neither about my love. Oh, no! You were my devil! The devil, that was sent to me to make me suffer with all that your happy talks about your dates and, oh God, your nights. And I suffered! I hate you! I always hated you! That’s all your fault that it happened! YOUR! But it doesn’t matter now. I’m about to meet her in person again soon.
So you probably want to know, what happened that evening, right? As I told, she came to help, as she always had done. She was so beautiful that it hurt me. All dressed-up for you! For your big night! Hope, you’re glad to know that it was one of the reason, that made me do what I’ve done. Oh, how furious it made me to see how much she cared for you! You never were worth it!
She came in and asked me what’s wrong. With this gentle look at her face and in her warm tone of voice, like I was a child that need to be calmed down with some toy or a song, a child, spending his Christmas alone. And as a child, I started to cry, when I realized, how much I loved her, and, of course, our kind and generous Ellen couldn’t have stand to start comforting me in her hugs, whispering to me some big lies about what a great person I am. Hugs, which I made to grow into the kisses and even more.
She tried to fight me, my sweet little Ellen. But along with her weak attempts to push me away I continued to lose a control over myself. That very moment she looked at me with that shiny enthusiastic eyes…enthusiastic to see you, of course, I knew she would be mine. I know how selfish, evil, terrible it was, but I didn’t care anymore, she MUST to belong to me. And I pushed her on my couch and started undressing her, while my cupping my hand on her mouth not letting her scream too loud. I was obsessed, obsessed with her tender alabaster skin, I kissed every little centimeter of her body with my sinner lips and she went silent. It was such a delight to understand that she accepted me, that she’s not against it with me. I got so excited by this that I wanted to see it in her eyes. I looked up at her face, taking away my hand, that was still pressuring her lips and realized. She wasn’t silent, because of acceptance, she was silent, because of death. I was so possessed by her body that it never occurred to me that my palm is too big to cover just her mouth, but her nose too. I choked her with my bare hand to death. And her dead white tender body wouldn’t breath, smile, eat or love anymore.
I must have stopped, must have called an ambulance and a police, but I didn’t. You should think, that that’s an end to my story. And I wish it was. But I didn’t stop, she MUST have belonged to me and I just pretended I didn’t notice she’s dead, I allowed myself to think that she just silently enjoyed being this close with me and continued kissing and hugging and… By the time I finished she was still a little warm. And I enjoyed this.
I’ve gone mad, so mad. She was dead. And I seemed not to realize it fully, I just knew, that my father would never forgive his son a murder, so I needed to get away with this quietly. No one knew she’d come to me, so it was easy. I covered her pale yellow body with her clothes, round her up in some old blanket, waited till 2 o’clock in the morning when everyone is already drunk enough with Christmas not to be suspicious, and drown her beautiful corpse in the Seine along with some boulders.
Then I came home and started to drink. A lot. I remember drinking up all the alcohol from the home bar, but it didn’t stop my madness from spreading, nothing would. So the next day I decided to move to England and start a new life. And I did. I thought I did. You haven’t known that evening, Christmas evening, that you would never see your two closest and dearest people in the world again. All that years I waited for just one thing to happen. And it did. The World War II started to take lives once again. I hoped it would take mine too. No one can survive two wars, right? And as you can see, the first one damaged me badly enough to go crazy.
And I was right. I will see Ellen very soon. In a day or two, as they said. I’ve killed lots of people for these years, you know yourself, and it’s time when someone else will took my life. Slowly I’m dying from the infection after the enemies’ bomb exploded too close to me, agonizing. I waited for this for so long! The War is almost over and I was getting afraid to live it through, but I couldn’t let my father down by committing a suicide or being a bad soldier, you know what a person he was.
I guess, that’s all I wanted you to know before I died.
And don’t you dare to think that I’m somehow apologizing to you, Samuel! No, I’m writing to let you know, that she died, because of YOU.
P.S. If you still alive to read this letter, then either burn it once you’ve read it or burn yourself since it’s all YOUR fault. I don’t care since I’ll be long dead by the time it finds you (if it will). Merry Christmas, my good old friend!
Leon,
25th December, 1945, Edinburgh
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