I do not own anything.
Mary Reilly-property of Valerie Martin
The Strange case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde- property of Robert Louis B. Stevenson
When I close my eyes I think of you.
Those things that never happened are the ones that hurt me most; now I know that I don't count with the chance of turning back and neither to speak myself up to him, because… Because… Because… He is dead. An increasing feeling of emptiness overtook me day after day since that dreadful day, a stupid hope made me cry thinking and day dreaming nonsense believing it was a nightmare and that I will find him in the studio or in the library when I wake up. Not mattered how much I hope or desire it I knew already that nothing will change. I was longing to say that words that I never dare to breath, I was hoping to look once more into those blue eyes that so many time had stared at me with that paternal and sweet expression that had always made me felt uncomfortable, I would give anything to be one more time by his side; even I knew he was not a perfect man and that he had made me suffer so much, I still hold in my heart the hope to wake up from this horrifying dream.
Once again, I couldn't force my tears back remembering that afternoon and being certainly sure that he didn't fall asleep, that he died in that cold bed in the auditorium. I was by his side, I didn't care for myself, I couldn't stand the fact I was losing the man I loved most. And the worst of all was that no mattered how much I tried I couldn't save him; he was already dead even when he was talking to me, the poison was already in his veins travelling through his body slowly. I cried I couldn't show me as the strong girl he thought I was, I wanted to die by his side, but I knew that was just not right, not to me neither for him. I got to defend his memory, I couldn't let that his murderer destroy him in the sight of society.
I remembered that day, I remember his fearful look, I remember how he struggle and shake, I remember his last words as if he were here saying them to me, I remember that I wanted to kiss him even knowing he will die while I was pressing my lips against him, even if his cold skin was a signal that he already passed off, I wanted to believe in fairy tales for once in my live and believe that he will come back to life with just one kiss.
I did kiss him, I did that action I never dare to do before; maybe he was longing for my heart much as I was longing for his, but given the fact that the kiss didn't work, I am not sure if it was because fairy tales lied or that he never loved me. Because I loved him with all my heart, because he seemed to be my only hope in this weary world, because he took care of me when I was just his maid, because his eyes, the way he stared at me, and a few words that the circumstances and our differences he could say to me, made me hope for this teenager love to be reciprocate; I knew he loved me, despite all, he did love me. I stared at his empty look, I touched his cold skin and I cried. It was the worst way to learn that fairy tales never come to live.
Sorry for all the mistakes above.