Tell A Tale — Gothic Fiction

For Better Or Worse By MadameHistoria

Dear Gabriel,

By the time you read this letter I will be dead.

For the last few months you and several others have asked many questions regarding my husband’s latest research and his unsavoury acquaintance. Well, this acquaintance is not a new one at all but in fact a result of my Henry’s research. You yourself know how placid he is, often completely consumed by his research. But I am afraid to say that this has now taken on a physical manifestation. I do not recognize my own husband anymore.

True, our union has always lacked physical intimacy. But in the past weeks his restraint has dissipated under the influence of his creature. At first it was a welcome change. It was even pleasurable; nothing like what I had heard. And is it not a wife’s duty to please her husband? Even the bruises at first were easily covered with powder. But now I have come to dread simply hearing his footsteps on the stairs. Each night I would even pray that he would walk past my chamber but it is as if he sensed my growing fear. And it excited him.

At first it was only light restraints; a piece of cloth to restrict my wrists. But then they grew tighter to the point that they penetrated the skin. He would not stop until he drew blood, cutting off the circulation to my limbs. I even pleaded but that only gave him more gratification. So I remained silent for as long as possible until the pain was too much.

But he has not been near for the last week. Not since that night he bound my neck with his belt. He choked me until I passed out. I truly thought that was the end. He has not looked me in the eye since. He remains in his laboratory at all times now. I hoped that he had perhaps controlled his alter ego. But alas, recent news proves that he has only become one with the monster he desired to destroy.

I refuse to keep his secret any longer. His sins are too great. His work has all been in vain. He has crossed a line with taking the life of that poor girl. The papers describe a drunkard in shabby clothes but I know it is Henry. He keeps his blood stained clothes in a safe in the lab. He has since taken another life. But he will not take another. I swear to that.

I sincerely regret to leave you with these facts Gabriel but there is no one I can trust but you. I must save what’s left of my husband. His research will speak for itself and you will understand.

Yours faithfully,

Elizabeth Jeckyll.

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