Yours for Eternity: A Love Story on Death Row (12 page)

*

I’ve been living all these years and I’ve never experienced this! I feel like such an explorer—see, right now I can’t even imagine what you are thinking—it’s like, what? Is she really this silly?? I’m afraid I am. Poor Damien. You really don’t know what you’re in for—did you ever imagine? What a silly one. Well, I’m sorry, but I find the whole thing crazily exciting.

*

Here I am, so far into this letter and I’ve just received three
beautiful
letters from you—and I want to respond to them.

About the IQs—I think our intelligence is very similar—I, too, retain so much of what I see and hear, like what I explained about details and seeing movies—but I sometimes can’t remember simple words to explain something—even though I know them—and sometimes I can’t remember names. Strange what I
do
retain and can recall. Like I can tell you who sang just about any song that was played on the radio when I was growing up—the director of most (not recent Hollywood) films and anything else he or she did—what year it was made—who was in it, so on and so forth. But I choose to know nothing about my profession—I care not for architects, designers—I like to keep my money source and my loves separate—that’s why I don’t really care about my job—except that it allows me to draw. I really dislike money—but in a way I’m starting to have more respect for it—because it is my link to you right now—so I will take better care of it.

Back to intelligence (what do you mean—“it could improve my focus”—whatever could you mean?) I’m sometimes amazed at how intelligent you are—sometimes you write something and I am just blown away—I am completely sucked in by your mind. I love it—it’s like a constant source of information and insight.

*

It is very funny you should think of me as a ghost—I was very taken aback when you said that on the phone. Sometimes, I feel I am a ghost. I always have—I’ve never quite felt I belong in this time—or anytime—I’ve always had a problem “placing” myself—but don’t feel uncomfortable about it. Only one other person felt that way about me—and I received a letter years after he left me (he was a very dear friend who helped me when I was very distraught in Ohio—the one I screamed at from my car).

He said he was always puzzled at me—couldn’t get it straight, he didn’t believe I was really
alive
as he was—that I was put here or came here from a different time—that I had “haunted” him as a ghost would. That’s why I was so insistent that you explain—I’m still trying to figure it out and I can’t find Andy to ask him—he has disappeared. Probably forever.

*

Something I didn’t mention from before—I received your certificate from the church! What was that? Did you complete a course? Have you spoken with this pastor or the “brother”—are they nice? Did you learn interesting things??
*

Yours forever,

Lorri

August 20, 1996

My Dearest Lorri,

So I’ll be seeing lots of movies with you, huh? Actually, I probably won’t see any because I would much rather watch you while you’re watching the movie. To watch your facial expressions, to feel the tension in your hand, all without you being aware of it. I would look completely absorbed in the movie, but every part of my attention would be focused on you. That would be sublime, to feel the movie through you.

*

The 17-year locusts—we have to memorize every tiny detail about this year, so that the next time they are out, we can remember, and see how much we’ve changed, how much we’re the same. Maybe it’s a symbol—now we have 2, the yin/yang and the 17-year locust. We must remember. 1996. The next time will be in the year 2013. Isn’t that amazing? Envision looking at the dark grey sky that is filled with huge swarms of the 17-year locusts. Imagine their humming, as loud as thunder. Doesn’t that seem wonderful?

It’s so hot in here tonight. I’m pouring sweat, even my hair is wet. And the mosquitoes are horrible. The air conditioner must be out. I didn’t think anyone was capable of throwing me off track, but you have proved me wrong.
Sorry, I couldn’t resist. You started it, it’s not my fault!!

Yours for eternity,

Damien

postscript, 2014

It’s funny; there were many things we experienced together while we were apart. Movies had always been a source of inspiration to me, and so I wanted to share that part of my life with him. We could see the same TV channels, so we watched the same things at times. Movies were shown over the weekend at the prison over a closed circuit channel. Sometimes I was floored by their choices; I remember they showed
Eagle vs Shark
, although I didn’t see that one. . . . Damien had definite ideas about what a good movie was: It had a monster in it. I’ve never been a monster movie girl, nor did I ever see blockbusters, or movies with superheroes, or films based on comic books. I was stuck-up. I’d put too much time and energy into my education to waste time on “fun” movies.

Damien got out, and the first movie we saw together was the remake of the classic 1980’s horror film
Fright Night
. It was horrible. I didn’t know it at the time, but he couldn’t really see movies, or read books, or write. He was too exhausted, and he didn’t have the concentration or whatever combination of things it takes to do such things. He wouldn’t for almost a year. But in the fall I asked him to see
The Artist
with me, at the Angelika [in New York]—it was the Oscar winner for 2011. The entire time, Damien writhed and twisted in his chair as if he were the Marathon Man. I told him he would never, ever see one of “my” movies with me again, and I meant it.

Now, two and a half years into our lives in the free world together, I see movies with Damien because it’s fun. We see all the new horror films;
Dark Skies
,
Mama
, and we see every new blockbuster that comes out, even the ones that start out with the Marvel or DC Comics logo.

He does not see my movies ever, and it’s fun.

Lorri

August 24, 1996

My dearest one,

I just got home, I received your shirt today—it smelled
so
wonderful—I was completely lost in it—Damien, you smell so—the only thing that came to mind was cloves! How can you smell like cloves? It’s agonizing—
so
,
so
close to you—smelling you, I found one of your hairs on it and almost went into a swoon . . . This is heavenly. Thank you
so
much! This means
so
much to me. This means
so
much!!! I had to go lie down on my bed and think of you—sometimes I get so deep in thought of you that I start seeing these incredible images. I can’t believe I am wearing something that has been next to your lovely skin. I will treasure it until the day I die.

*

I loved your story about the preacher and your encounter with him . . . that kind of thing is one of the first things I noticed about you—your self-confidence—that’s the thing that David was so taken aback from—because he has always known it in me—he was so surprised to see it in the exact form in you.

I also loved what you said about feeling protective and maternal about our child—and watching him grow up—you are the dreamiest. I love you
so
much. I love that you think about these things—kissing skinned knees and us being grandparents—it makes me feel so much a part of something incredible. I can’t wait to raise a child with you—you will have
so
much to teach him—and me. It’s going to be very difficult not to become pregnant right away with
you—the way you make me feel about it—but I really would like a little while with just you—just the two of us—

But it’s sure going to be difficult.

Especially if you keep talking to me the way you just did on the phone!

*

Being in love with you is the single most beautiful, inspiring, breathtaking, erotic thing I have ever known. It is all-encompassing. I really never knew I could feel this way about
anything
.

Yours forever,

Lorri

August 29, 1996

Dearest Damien,

It’s funny what you said about
Endless Love
. Those two—everyone
in
that book drove me crazy, too. Especially Jade—she was so stupid for not seeing what he was—she just couldn’t see it. People always try to mess with things that are so strong and true—because they can’t cope with it themselves—they can’t live up to the intensity or the power of it—so they try to destroy it—and that’s what I meant about how I was feeling on Monday night—it wasn’t you—it was the thought of all the people who couldn’t see me—or hurt me—or hurt
you
—people who can’t see you—even though you play with them—and I understand that, now—but I could never see the point in playing with them. But maybe you had nothing else to play with—I mean—you work with what you have—I just chose a different route—which is far too elitist—for lack of a better term. You are more humble in a way—it puts me to shame; at least you don’t look at them as not worth your time or energy. But it still drives me crazy and I don’t even mind that it does—I
want
you to drive me crazy—I just have to make one thing clear—I am
not
angry with
you
—I
know
that you would never hurt me—Do you know what I am talking about?

*

. . . Today I was thinking. The first time we are ever physically together—I mean actually
see
each other—hug each other—as soon as we are alone together, even before we kiss—when we are
standing up—looking into each other’s eyes—I am going to make absolutely certain that I am wearing a skirt—I am going to take your hand and place it between my legs where you will feel what I am feeling every hour of every day being apart from you while you have your way with me—how I feel upon waking—it never leaves me now—you have me in a constant state of sublime suffering.

I will leave your hand there long enough so that your finger goes ever so slightly inside me—my hand on yours the whole time—my eyes locked on yours the whole time—then I will remove your hand—put it into your mouth—and then make you wait.

I am absolutely shameless, now—sometimes at work I find myself sitting with my legs apart—my head thrown back, my hands on my knees—eyes closed—all I can think of is you—I truly am losing control and I love it. You must be having a great time.

*

I want you to
know
how I am suffering—that will be how I work on you—for you to know that I am constantly waiting.

Your touch, your kiss, your tongue, your fingers, your voice—

Always on the brink of hysteria—of possibly madness—

And sometimes I will take myself as close as I can to you—but I will be screaming your name—pleading for you to save me.

I am completely entranced with you, my love,

Lorri

September 3, 1996

My dearest Lorri,

I just got off the phone with you, and once again you asked me to teach you to do what I do. Lorri, I swore that I would do anything you ever asked of me, that my only pleasure in life comes from serving you, pleasing you, making you happy, but you don’t really understand what you’re asking me to do, you don’t know what you’re getting into. You see, Lorri, any type of magick, even the smallest little thing, creates a thirst in a person, and the more you learn, the more that thirst grows, until you have to fight with it every minute of every day just to try to keep it from consuming you. Once you realize that with magick, all things are possible, you only crave more, more, more. It all comes down to one thing—power. And it is the ego that craves power. Lorri, magick for the sake of magick is
bad
, it is a curse on yourself. You are supposed to let these things develop naturally, through certain practices, like yoga or meditation—and it is good, because you are also learning when they are acceptable, and how to use them properly. You remember a long time ago when I told you I didn’t practice magick anymore? That’s because I realized what it was doing to me. That
it
was using
me
, I was not using it. And it slows down the progress you make, because it distracts you from the true purpose you are in this life for.

Please just think about these things, OK? I only tell you because I love you. I can
not
refuse you anything, so just be careful what you ask of me.

I will now tell you how to do this one thing, the thing you have asked me for. Don’t expect instant results, because it’s just like anything else—practice makes perfect. You get stronger as you go.