A Short Story
I wonder how I, a perfectly sane and rational woman, could ever love a monster like Edward Donnelly. I don't know why; there is no rational explanation why I should allow myself to be corrupted by him and pledge my love and loyalty to someone who obviously doesn't deserve it.
He is charming and trustworthy to strangers or people who are fortunate enough to never experience his wrath. Beneath this deceptive mask lies a volatile violence and aggression that will enact upon the cruelest forms of torture and killing at the slightest provocation. Luckily for me, I have only been threatened by such aggression only a few times but they were so unexpected and terrifying that I would end up cowering in the corner of our bedroom, shivering and crying to the point where I'm tempted to call the police; anything to get this monster away from me for good.
After these outbursts towards me, he would always return and cradle me in his arms, his voice gentle as he apologizes for his behaviour and kisses me. Edward's eyes would be full of remorse and like a fool I would fall under his spell every time. I can't help it and a part of me loathes myself for it.
Edward's taste for cruelty is taken out on the innocent. He manipulates them, lulls them into a false sense of security with him before he goes in for the kill; both literally and figuratively.
On occasion he has kidnapped people and locked them away in our basement where he would inflict the worst kind of pain and suffering on his victim. When this happened I would go outside and busy myself with some yard work but I could still hear the screams. Our home is on the outskirts of town, an old 19th century cabin surrounded by trees so I hardly ever worried that someone might figure out what was going on here and alert the authorities.
Once the poor unfortunate soul was dead, I would help Edward carry the deceased to the woods surrounding the cabin where we would dig a deep grave and dump the remains unceremoniously. I always ignored the mutilated state of each victim. Edward would then leave me to clean the blood in the basement and the small trail of red that was caused by carrying the dead out of the house.
I never stepped foot into the woods; I found it frightening to walk on ground where I knew bloodied victims lay decomposing in the earth.
I saw on the news how the police were investigating a string of missing person cases from the area. My heart skipped a beat and I felt fearful but Edward shrugged it off and said there was nothing to worry about; we were okay for the time being. I had my doubts but decided it was best to not argue with him.
I lived in paranoia after that. I hated going into town because I had the irrational feeling that people knew what I had done and were silently accusing me. I felt that I would reveal too much if I spoke to any of them.
Edward began to get irritable with me soon enough which I attributed to the fact that he hadn't killed anyone in months. The angry outbursts occurred more frequently and posed more of a threat to my life. He had no innocent bystander to take his rage out on and so I was the next best thing. Where all this anger and violence came from, I could never fully comprehend.
Yet I remained by his side. I fear him most days yet a part of me smothers the fear and godes me into staying because that part of me foolishly cares about him. I know if it weren't for that then I would have run off a long time ago but I had gotten too involved to be deemed innocent; I am an accomplice and so I must remain.
Tonight, Edward is in the basement again. He brought an unconscious young man here a few hours previous, giving me a maniacal smile that made my blood run cold before disappearing down the stairs.
He always goes after the young and strong whether they were male or female. The majority of the time they appear to be young kids who are either in university or have just graduated from it and it breaks my heart if I ponder on it too much. The true reasonings behind Edward's preferences has never been revealed to me so I can only guess why.
I don't retreat outside nor do I make any attempt to stifle the horrifying sounds coming from the basement. I just sit on the couch in the dimly lit living room and stare at the floor, feeling numb and hollow inside. It's a sensation that I have become well acquainted with.
Once night falls, Edward finally emerges from the basement; either because he grew bored or the boy was dead. I go out into the hallway and meet him halfway, with every fibre of my being telling me that I shouldn't have. The light from the basement illuminates him from behind and it reminds me of Satan emerging from the pits of Hell. The blood splatters on his clothes and face and the crazed look in his hazel eyes make him look even less human than I thought was possible.
I can't tolerate the sight of him any longer so I turn on my heels and hurry upstairs, my sanity far too fragile to able to play the parts of janitor or undertaker. I've had had enough. I can't deal with any of this anymore.
I stand, shaking and sobbing by the bedroom window, gripping the window sill hard enough to turn my knuckles white. Within moments I hear Edward approach me from behind and wrap his arms around my waist, pinning me against him.
He lowers his head so his lips are next to my ear. "You want to leave don't you my dear? You would run away from here in an instant but something is holding you back." Something about his voice sends shivers down my spine.
I can feel the sadistic smile that forms on his face as he continues speaking in a low voice. "You had ample opportunity to turn both of us in, yet you never did. I allowed you to come and go as you pleased and yet you never jumped at the chance to stop me." He pauses and raises his hands up a little so I could see how bloody they were. "You allowed me to touch you intimately with the same hands I use to kill. Now tell me, why haven't you tried to stop me?"
Why? I knew why, but I certainly didn't want to say the reason outloud. However, it would appear that I have no choice. I manage to choke out; "My heart won't let me."
The laughter I get in response angers me. He's mocking me but what did I expect? Edward is incapable of feeling remorse or compassion.
He lets me go and walks out of the room.
When he's gone I close the door and throw myself onto the bed and sob. I feel so lost. I wish I could go back to the time before I knew Edward and I wish I never met him at all.
But I love him, and I hate myself for it.
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