A/N: I read some of the reviews for this one, and one of you mentioned that Claude's language is choppy at the end of the story. While I think the inconsistent words and thought processes show how truly lost he is, I have smoothed out some of the choppiness in order for smoother reading. Thank you for your reviews!!!
When Love Destroys
This is a narrative by the tormented priest, Dom Claude Frollo. He seeks the gypsy La Esmeralda, but when she refuses to have him, he decides that his love for her will destroy both of them.
She would not have me.
That pitiful girl… I can remember her imploring words: "O wretch! who are you? What have I done to you? Do you hate me so? Alas! what do you hold against me?"
Her anguish was like a stab to my already tormented heart. So, she truly thought that I sought to harm her, then? The terror of such evilness gripped me, and those fateful, condemning words flew from my lips:
"I love you!"
I could sense her astonishment as she shuddered and whispered, "But with what kind of love?"
"The love of one damned!" I cried, full of despair. I then poured out the miserable story in its entirety: how I had desired her ever since I first saw her dancing in the streets, how I had tried to resist her but had failed, how I had attempted to have her carried off, and finally, how I had stabbed and killed her lover, Phoebus.
Phoebus de Châteaupers! No one else on this earth do I despise more than he! He never cared for my dear, sweet girl… he only sought after her body. I still tremble with rage when I remember the crude, lustful way he eyed her. I'm glad I killed him! He planned to use her to supply his own selfish wants, and then, he was going to throw her away like so much used rubbish. Her heart would have been broken because of his thoughtlessness and cruelty! So, you can see that by killing him, I protected her young, fragile heart.
She, however, was cold to my desperation and sacrifices. I even showed her the self-inflicted wound I had obtained when she screamed as her lovely, delicate foot was crushed (Oh, I still curse myself for not foreseeing the possibility of torture!). Still, she remained unmoved. I pleaded with her to allow me to save her life, and I promised her that she could have as much time as she needed in order to learn to love me. Yet, all she could think of was that cursedly handsome captain.
She refused to let me save her. Instead, she shoved me away, screaming, "Go! monster, leave! Be yours, priest? Never! Never! Nothing shall unite us, not even hell itself!"
She destroyed me with those words.
Oh, why could she not pity me? She was not born to hate, that has never been her nature. She is so kind to all she meets; it is I alone whom she loathes. Her small, gentle hands – though they bless others – will only touch me in order to strike me. Her musical voice scorns me, breaking my heart with every breath. Oh, if only she did not posses so much power over me! Yet, I would happily yield to her if she would only show me a portion of the tenderness that she gives so freely to others.
I cannot escape this desire for her, this youthful innocent. It burns me as though it was a white-hot flame. It burns and consumes like it is hellfire.
If I cannot have her, no one will.
Love is supposed to cause joy. Love is supposed to cause healing. To me, love is not anything that moves me to rejoice; love only brings me grief and weeping. I now know the truth: love is deadly.
Love has destroyed me, consumed me… and now, love will also destroy her.
End.