23.01.1907-
Diary, Charles Black is a criminal, a killer! He has lied his way closer to me
and now I lie in bed while I hear him calling to me through the locked door to
my room! He has murdered the forty-three people who were staying here over
Christmas, and has now come for me, I have tried multiple times to escape but
to no achieve. Oh please God, my Lord, help me please! He has come for my
blood, he will leave me for dead as he did the others: he stabbed them first
and then slashed the left corner of their mouth, slit their nostrils and gouged
out their right eye! Has he no humanity, what is he, how could such human
appeal become such beastly monster?! He is calling to me now telling me that he
wants me, he’s wanted me all along. Oh please Dear God! Please, my Lord, help me.
If not to prevent my death, make it quick, not the slow awful pain the others
have gone through, please let it be quick. Please don’t let me die! I think
he’s going to break the door down, oh God, please, I write to you now diary for
the hope that whomever would be to read the events that occurred this night,
would bring this monster to merciless justice.
Mother,
Father, please let it be quick. Please don’t let me die, please help me
V. Rose
16.11.1907- Tatters is what I see my
life torn in, death is all I see before me. Charles Black has kept me locked in
the same room he claimed me in. He blackmailed me with my own life, to
willingly give my hand unto him, in marriage. My shame is all that dwells upon
my mind, all I allow to dwell upon my mind. Since that fateful night, he has
forced me to conceive two children, the first was a miscarriage almost a month
following the attack but the second I am seven months pregnant with. I beg each
night upon the first star I see revealed in the sky outside my barred window,
that if not my life, my child’s life will be saved.
V. Black
02.01.1908- To Whom It May Concern, this may be one
of the hardest things I have ever had to do, abandon my only baby daughter to
the mercy of the residents of Grenwich. Care for her, is my desperate plea to
you, and never let her know of her true origin- which was of Victoria Rose
Black. My babe can no longer hold her faith and hope upon me, for I can no
longer bestow such luxury upon her. So please accept her and protect where I no
longer could. Her name is Anne-Rose Black.
Yours, V. Black
13.07.1908- Charles Black still relentlessly kills
innocent people frequently for no reason I can see, I pray to you, my Lord,
protect his victims and their families and help them through as you did me.
Please, I don’t think I can suffer much more like this.
V. Black
23.12.1919- Eleven years have passed and I feel my
heart is already ancient, for I have experienced such trauma, hated, fear and
loss. Today my husband sold my 6 month old son, Albert, to a factory in Ireland
and I resent myself for the opportunity I couldn’t even grab to save him. Lord,
I have always prayed and worshipped unto you, but such high love could surely
not watch upon me as I burn and fall and slowly drown. I want to die, I wish to
die, I have wanted to die since I discovered the pool of blood surrounding the
Christmas tree that night years ago, when I discovered who Charles Black, really was. I have heard the
police around the manor, never daring to actually enter, I have read the
stories about how I murdered
all those people. And I know why he’s making them believe it’s me, why he
wanted to marry me in the first place, because he has managed to leech out all
the money I ever inherited since my father died and I know now that he is soon to
leave because it is almost gone and I am of no further use to him. I have
worked all this out, yet I still fail to see his reasoning behind his
intentions of murder of those innocent people, but mother once told me as a
child, “Monsters need no reason.” I miss you Mother, and Father and I hope I
see you again soon.
V. Black
18.06.1920- Goodbye
The book tumbled to the ground,
echoing loudly around the silent mansion, followed by a small splash, as a
single tear hit the ground.
And suddenly the déjà vu that had
sat dormant for almost eight years, erupted around Emilia, and she was 13
again. Standing alone in the house, paranoia creating sounds of muted shuffles
and footsteps behind her. Darting figures beside her. Glowing eyes before her.
All those years ago when she had
been bullied into entering the house alone one night, she had been left there,
abandoned, terrified, until hallucinations and delusions drove her out one
night, unaware of the time that had passed unaware of the cause, just to get
out. And she had never moved passed that single moment of terror when she had
ran for her life through the infinitely long maze of hallways and corridors,
her heart pounding, her blood racing.
But now, the only sounds she heard
were shouts, shouts from outside, but she was paralysed in fear, her eyes locked
ahead of her.
Until she heard that one voice she
had never expected to come to her rescue, not ever…
“Emilia!”
It was her mother’s.
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