Oh, God. I can see how you stare at him, love and hopefulness evident in your stormy eyes, and then you turn to me, hate and disdain burning me like beams. Know that my heart shatters every time you glance upon me with disgust, with anger smoldering in your eyes. I ache and long for you to give me such attentiveness as you give him. You beg me to let him leave unharmed by my vengeful hands, but I cannot. This young man is the key to winning your love, and I shall not hand the key over. You know that if I cannot love you, the world shall perish, and you and I shall perish along with it.
Do not show me your spectacle of mourning. I have to resist terribly against every burning instinct that commands me to run to you, enfold you in my unholy arms and comfort you until all the sorrow is gone. God…do not torture me in this way! You know I cannot ignore you when you are distressed or in sorrow! Why do you want to harm me, to drive me mad?
You know I adore you, simply ravish everything there is about you. There is nothing in the world that would ever make me despise you, and yet, there you stand, whispering honeyed words of promise to the young…boy…and glaring at me as though I were the foulest thing your eyes had ever beheld. True, that I am, but is it not enough that this corpse bows to your every whim, no matter the cost? Know, my dear, that I have put myself through many self-afflictions in order to make myself what I deemed suitable for your delicate tastes. And yet, you scorn me still! There is no reason for this hatred…if you would only realize that you love and need me as much as I do you.
My songbird, please, make a choice. I know I have made all decisions thus far and insisted that your pretty head not be troubled, but now I ask you to decide: would you rather see the death of this pitiful young man, who has never loved you, or would you rather see the death of your angel, the one who has given his life to please you and make you the best among mortals? It is not an easy decision, I know, but I can feel in my non-beating heart that you will make the correct decision.
What? Why have you chosen him? Stop looking upon him with love, the love that you should properly be bestowing upon me. What has this mere child given to you that I have not? I know you are not choosing him because of his attractiveness, because in that contest, my dear, I am always the victor, as you well know.
Now, I would absolutely insist upon a revision of your choice, my songbird. Let me rephrase the consequences of your choice a bit more clearly. If you select the boy, I shall exterminate all of Paris, myself and you included. If you select me, therefore choosing to surrender all contact with the world above and depending on me and only me, then the boy walks free, totally unharmed by my anxious hands.
Cease that pretend sobbing! You know how much it pains me to watch you sob as though you were being tortured. You are not physically suffering, so why are you so unhappy? Make your choice. Now.
Come now, say it clearly. I cannot understand the word through the hysterical tears, and I might mistake what you say if I do not hear it clearly. My ears are not as keen as they used to be, I am afraid. Say my name with as much clarity as you give the notes you caress with your pure voice. Excellent, we are making good progress. Now, I want you to say one more thing before I let the young man go free. If you succeed in saying what I want you to say, and I can see that you are not lying, then he will leave without a scratch, all the hairs on his head intact.
Tell me, with genuine feeling, that you love me.
Ah, ah, ah, try once more. You were crying too hard for me to understand. See, my songbird, I always give second chances. Try your hardest, now. I want to hear the love pouring through. I want you to say it with so much emotion that I will be moved to tears.
Oh! Oh…my songbird…that was…t-that w-was…b-beautiful…see, now we are both choked with emotion. That was the first time a woman has ever said she has loved me and meant it. My mother, God rest her horrendous soul, never even said that to me. You are the first, and I am so exhilarated that it is you. Thank you…thank you, thank you, thank you, from the bottom of my nonexistent soul! You are such an angel…come to me, let me stroke your brunette ringlets…she is approaching me!...what a wonderful child she is…
Oh God!
My Lord! Oh, my God! My songbird, what a treasure you have given me! A kiss…oh Lord…an actual kiss…from a woman…a living woman!...I am the luckiest corpse that has ever lived! Thank you…oh God…my heart…my heart has started beating again!
Here, my songbird, I will let your young man go. See, I have not harmed him in any way. Go on, boy, she is staying with me! She shall stay with me for eternity because she loves me! You heard her yourself, with your stupid dull ears! Now begone!
Thank God, my songbird, now we are alone. No more trivial interruptions…we must prepare for our wedding. I already have my formal wear, but I do not even dare to think that you would wear that costume for our wedding. I planned ahead for this. Never fear, I shall always think of everything and be prepared for anything. Go to your room and put on the dress that is spread out on your bed. I shall prepare in my room and meet you outside your bedroom door. Now, go on!
Oh God. A marriage with my songbird…a wife I can take out on Sundays…even if she is only agreeing to stay with me out of fear and pity, soon I shall show her how kind and loving a husband I will be. I will be the greatest husband that has ever lived! I just hope she will not be disappointed with the wedding night…I am worried about consummating the marriage…suppose she will not let me…but she will…she will be a good, obedient wife, and I will be a great, slavish husband! I will obey every command, and I will never question her, because I know she will be right every time.
Are you ready, you pathetic carcass? You shall have to be cautious all the time, so as not to frighten her further. But I will not. She loves me for me, and I love every part of her.
My hand is shaking as I raise it to knock on your door. I knock twice timidly and pull my hand back as though the door has threatened to bite me. A second passes, the longest second of my life, and you appear.
Lord…you look so magnificent…take my arm, please, take my pathetic, shaking excuse of an arm. Your slim arm feels so wonderful curled around my lanky quivering bone.
I am slightly devastated, my dear, due to the fact that I was looking forward to playing my funeral mass that I had written especially for the occasion. But I am even more so elated because I get to play the marvelous wedding mass that I composed at the same time! Another example of my genius, do you not agree? I know you agree, I do not even have to look to know your answer. And do not fret, I thought of all the necessities for a wedding…including rings, my songbird.
Here, I want you to kneel…slowly, now, I do not want your dress to tear…you are so beautiful…so ravishing…but I must think pure thoughts now, because we are being joined in the eyes of God.
In my vows, I certify that I will live my life devoted to you. I will die to protect you from any threat, and whatever is mine, I will give to you as well, for as my wife what is mine is yours. Now the ring, Lord? Yes…give me your sweet, tender hand, my dear…oh, it is like grasping the hand of a precious doll! The ring sits so nicely on your finger, my songbird, almost like it was meant to be there all along. Wonderful…now it is your turn for vows, my dear. You may say whatever you like. Simply pledge that you will remain faithful to me and you will love me all the days of your life, as I have so pledged. Thank you. Here is the ring that you purchased for me…such simplistic beauty…you have exquisite taste, you know.
Is it time to kiss the bride yet? Oh, yes! Now, I shall remove my shield from my face…please do not shudder away on the wedding day, my songbird. Any other day, I shall conceal my terrible self from you, but not on the day of our union. Please, just endure it for a few moments, and then the ugliness shall vanish, I promise. Come, dear wife, kiss your eager husband.
Oh, good God…now I can die a happy man…now if only I could convince you to have a proper wedding night with me…but I should only be happy and grateful that you have agreed to wed me, so I shall not ask for more. Husbands should not be greedy and selfish. See, now I am putting my mask back on…I shall never again remove it in your presence unless you specifically request it.
If you would allow it, my dear wife, I would like to take you to our wedding feast, which I have labored over for the entire morning. Splendid! Off we go to celebrate our permanent union!
Why are you crying, my songbird? You should be the happiest of women today, of all days. I know you are not crying over that boy, so I am entirely uncertain why there are tears staining your perfect cheeks. Besides, one must get used to everything, even eternity, so there is no reason to cry. You will spend eternity with someone who loves, adores, and worships you. He will kiss your feet, be your slave, kill himself if you desire, but he will be totally obedient. You have absolutely nothing to fear. Please, calm yourself, and do not spoil this day. This is all I have ever wanted. I have you in my possession, so no other man's wandering eyes and lustful thoughts can ever infect you, and I have your voice, which is so much better than my own. Your voice does not need to be shared with others; it is too excellent for mere mortals to comprehend. I can assure you that I will do everything to make you happy in our living quarters.
Here, I shall seat you at the female's place of honor, and I shall seat myself right next to you in the male's seat of honor. Now, all the food you see spread before you? It is all for your consumption, so please, eat all that you can. Eat until you feel drowsy.
I see that fear has not diluted your appetite, but I still believe that you will eat very little. You always have. Always like a bird, my sweet girl!
Ah-ha! Just as I deduced: you have only eaten a little, my dear. Are you not feeling well? No? Yes? Please alert me to your condition so that I may work magic to heal you again.
Are you absolutely positive that nothing is wrong? If nothing is wrong, then you should be simply swooning with delight. Other women would all be doing so on their wedding day, the happiest day of their lives.
My dear, know that I will be here until the day that we both die in unison, so until that day, I will be here, by your side, waiting for your wishes.
You wish me to do what? All right, I shall, if it shall so please you. Now, let me see here…oh Lord…oh dear sweet God…may I…Lord…may I…may I please take you into my arms so as to carry you into our bedroom?
Lord! My pathetic heart is thumping out an erratic tattoo upon having you nestled in my thin, weak arms. You are so light and yet magnificent…May I kiss you again?…I suppose not, although the slap was a bit much, my dear.
I do not want to seat you on your bed yet, but you are protesting, and I must not keep you unhappy. There. Is the bed to your liking, my dear? I certainly hope so, because I will not be the one sleeping in it!
Do not give me that sweet but confused look you possess and employ frequently! You know that I prefer to sleep in my coffin, lined with sable velvet and very comfortable so as to make me wish for death so I could simply remain resting in there longer. Please remove that disgusted look from your innocent face. You are so young and vibrant and beautiful; what could you possibly know of hideousness? Do stop pointing at me, for I know what I am, and you must forgive me, if you could find it within your most pleasant self, for presenting such a grotesque image in your presence. You know how I hate to upset you. But this, my dear, this is the one thing that I absolutely cannot control!
I am on my weak knees before you, stroking your hand and begging your forgiveness, and yet all you can do is weep? Please, I am so, so sorry that I must present you with this horrible porcelain substitute, but is it not better than the visage underneath?
Would it possibly have entered your pure mind about the wedding night? I mean about actually consummating our marriage, my dear…we are husband and wife, after all. Would you like to proceed?
Oh God, do not cry!...you know it rips my heart into pieces when I watch you cry! What can I do to make this any better for you? Shall we hold off on the wedding night until you are simply more at ease in my company? I believe that is how we shall handle this matter…there, see, there is no more need for useless tears. Come here. Tonight I shall ignore the lure of my coffin and stay with you in this…uncomfortable…bed…or would you rather I slept on the floor as faithful old dogs do? I shall do whatever pleases you most, my dear wife.
This bed is not so bad once you recline into it. Come, my dear, come nestle in my arms. I shall not hurt you at all, I swear it. We shall simply lie here together. Oh, you hair, your beautiful, beautiful hair…it feels like a velvet blanket draped across my thin chest. And your thin, tiny arms wrapped around my waist are a source of sweet pleasure that I have never known before! My dear, we shall have a fine life together. I am watching your eyes droop. That is an excellent idea. I, too, am exhausted. This has been an important day, though. It is not every day that one gets married. My dear, I forgot one thing.
I love you, now and forever.