I fear that I have truly failed my best friend. I had the chance to save him but all the evidence points to me coming up short. I don’t know if I will ever be able to live with myself.

When Victor cam to Strasbourg to begin our trip to London my heart was a flurry of emotions. During the past months I had failed in doing any meaningful work. My mind never wandered far from Victor, and thoughts on how to save him. Now that he was here I had to do something, I had to put some plan into action. Part of me believed, or hoped, that when I saw him his condition would have improved. I thought that maybe seeing Elizabeth would have soothed him. But that was a foolish thought; I don’t believe he even loves her. No, when I saw him he was just as pale and skittish as before. If anything the despair in his eyes had deepened, as if he had accepted his fate of constant sorrow.

As we rode through the beautiful countryside I tried to reach him. While he was gone I had done some academic studies in the field of psychology, in the hopes that I could reach the root of the problem. My studies had taught me that illnesses of the mind were brought on by illnesses of the body, so I subtlety tried to determine if Victor was ill. Although he seemed pale, and generally underfed, I thought him to be otherwise healthy. I tried to talk to him to get at the root of his anguish but he refused to open up to me. The only thing that seemed to soothe him was the beautiful landscape we passed. He stared out the window with a calm, content look in his eyes, and muttered about the divinity of nature. I put on a mask and agreed with him, saying I was overjoyed to be in this wonderful landscape. My true feelings were different. My heart constantly cried out for the apparent death of my friend.

When we arrived in London I went to the best physicians and philosophers to try and find an answer for Victor’s melancholy. I asked Victor to come with me, but he refused. He said I should continue my studies about India, and shouldn’t worry about him. He was completely delusional; I hadn’t been interested in India in years, he was the only worry that occupied my mind anymore. No progress could be made if he refused to come with me to the doctors. They could only suggest possible treatments, all of which he refused to consider.

We continued our travels to Perth. While there, he abandoned me for a second time. He said he was going to continue his travels alone throughout Scotland. But it was clear he had no intention of traveling. He packed his bags with the horrid instruments I had found in his lab years earlier. He planned to re-visit whatever had made him this way. I couldn’t let him go, I pleaded for him to stay. I unpacked his bags and hid his belongings. But he left in the dead of night when I

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