The Nightmares Come While I'm Awake

Jane or Cora, either way you are still dear to me:

I know he can’t stop you from seeing this, even though he has stopped us from being together. Part of me believes that you were never going to be mine, that you were never anyone’s but his. But, you belong to yourself, as you always have. It does not matter that he marches you through the streets now, ignoring the cold wind and the sky draping the city in white for your wedding. I hear an old woman weeping, and it is hard to hold myself together.

There were many of us, I know, those who would serve as groomsmen for our wedding, who wished to be in my place. I do not wish to be in his place. You must know what I’ve done by now for you, and that it is not the worst that I have done. Still, he is taking you to an awful place.

You will endure, and thrive. I know it. It is tempting for me to join you, to follow the editor’s cowardly way. But I cannot. There are other cities, and perhaps other monsters who prey on perfect things like you.

For the first time I had a purpose. I wasn’t just some rabid dog set upon others by those who lived outside the law. I wasn’t just the puppet of the sick, sad forces of the world. I was my own man, for you and because of you Jane.

I hope that you find yourself away from him someday, and can stay away. If you can, I’m sure you can find me.

Yours,
John Stag