Victor—

 

As you read this final letter, know that my soul has already departed. As to where it now resides—I can only pray for the best. They wished to kill me Victor. They wished to punish me for a crime that I did not commit. They turned me into a monster. They stripped me of my humanity; my goodness, and I was forced to falsely confess to the unthinkable: the murder of innocent William.

Victor—you have always been so kind and gentle. Your faith in me has been unyielding. When all of the others questioned my innocence, you were the one to always uphold it. Why have you sustained your trust in my virtue?

I spent my days in this rotten cell first consumed in sadness, but then transfixed in deep contemplation. I perceived this heinous misunderstanding (if it can even be called as such) to be punishment for the murder of my mother. However, I now question all validity of this claim.

You were uneasy when we last spoke, Victor. Your eyes shifted; sweat dripped from your temples and forehead profusely. In that moment, you seemed anxious, and more concerned for your well being than that of mine. I cannot help but question your reaction Victor. Why did you appear so fraught, and what compelled you to plead my innocence so adamantly? Even Elizabeth, my dearest friend, cast doubt upon me. Victor—I have come to the frightening realization that perhaps you are privy to the real circumstances surrounding your brother’s demise. Your reaction was not one of despair for my current situation, but one of guilt for your own. What have you done? What twisted, perverse scheme has your brilliant mind concocted that would cause this unfortunate mess?

My sanity is all but gone. My faculties are fleeting. I now question if I am in fact the murderess they believe me to be. I have taken the life of my own mother—perhaps I have killed the young and innocent William as well. What a wretched, pathetic life I have been condemned to! I am a beast by every sense of the word. And this is your doing Victor! You have turned me into this monster! You have taken from me my humanity. You have forced me to question my very existence and all that I am. I now cower in my own presence, as I look at this creature that I’ve become—because of you! I have become exactly what they perceive me to be.

Whatever crimes you have committed—I shall continue to pray for you Victor. Even when stripped of my humanity, I must cling to God during this time—with what little strength and sanity I have left. You may have made a monster of the girl I once was, but you shall never take from me my faith in God. What will become of me? Do monsters go to heaven, Victor?

 

Yours,

 

Justine M.

 

 

 

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