Salutations my dear friend,
I have been reduced to a sobbing mess. What have I done? My Grace is gone. I cannot believe it. My mind knows this to be true. As does my body that committed the heinous act. But my heart. My traitorous heart refuses to believe that my Grace is truly gone. How could I let the beast hurt her? The weight of what he has done is finally hitting me. For hours I have been pacing the floor, letting my anger fuel my sleep deprived body into taking one step after another as I tried to erase the image of her with another man. It would not go away!
I am a failure. My weak attempt to calm the beast has failed.
No longer can I deny it...Grace is dead. She will soon be food for the worms. I can hear the beast growling inside me, victorious as she seemed the only way to calm him. His venomous tongue is licking away at my black soul. He is egging me on. She betrayed us. She deserved to die. Oh how I wish I could silence him.
Perhaps Grace and I could have worked past this misunderstanding. Perhaps that man was forcing himself upon her. The beast laughed at this thought for no woman would moan in ecstasy if she were being attacked. And Grace had moaned quite a few times. I had to finally agree with the beast just to stop him from taunting me any longer.
Still, my heart hurts. If only I could pull the disloyal muscle from my body. I would do it in a split second. I feel as though someone is boiling my blood. It feels like a current of electricity is coursing its way through my wretched body.
My heart feels as though it is about to explode. What is happening my dear friend? What is wrong with me? Oh how I wish I could undo last night. Is this regret? Please forgive me for the tears that stain your pages. I cannot stop them from flowing. If only I could drown myself in them...I would. I would do anything to escape the beast. Anything.
Yours until death, O
Lucy stared at the long cursive handwriting she now associated with O. It looked a bit different than usual. It appeared frenzied. She could imagine O writing this entry, his nose running, his cheeks wet, and his breathing labored. She gently touched the page, almost caressing it. She was so engrossed in this entry that she jumped when her cell phone rang.
"Lucy goosey where are you?"
"Dillon?" Lucy asked. She looked at her watch. John had just left to go bowling with his friends.
"What are you doing while your boyfriend is bowling tonight?" Dillon asked.
Lucy could hear loud music through the phone, "Where are you at?"
"Hypnotic. You want to join us?" Dillon answered.
"Me and some friends. No big deal really. C'mon Lucy goosey...you know you want to. If you don't, you'll be home alone."
"I don't really go to clubs these days," Lucy responded. The truth was she didn't go to clubs at all. She didn't trust herself to be around that much alcohol.
"C'mon Lucy. I'm here so you'll be fine."
"You don't sound so fine right now," Lucy muttered.
"I'm just happy! Come get me or I'll be here all night. I'm at Hypnotic."
"I'm not your babysitter Dillon."
"No, but you're my friend, right? Aren't we friends Lucy?"
Lucy sighed, "Of course we're friends Dillon."
"Then come get me. I need a friend to talk to."
"I thought you said you were happy?" Lucy asked at Dillon's sad tone.
YOU ARE READING
ConsumedMystery / Thriller
Confessions from a murderer. This is what Lucy Hanson uncovers after reading a journal she finds in a secondhand desk. She soon develops a dangerous desire to discover the identity of the journal's author. With the police hot on the killer's trail...