Episode Three: Homecoming

I finally opened the door and let Henry in. "Have a seat," I told him. "And if you want, I have tea and some pastries on the counter."

He politely declined. Ah, Henry, still the same as ever.

I checked my email- nothing. Henry, who had been sitting there, watching my actions, reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope.

"Ah, right. Here it is." He handed it to me, and I took it from him, puzzled. "It's for you. From Elizabeth. When she heard I was going to be attending NYU, she gave this to me, just in case we came across each other."

I grabbed the letter opener and hastily tore it open. "Their internet was down when I left. I suppose it's probably up now, if not soon."

My dear cousin Victor,

I know you have been sick, but even the letters that Henry write to me don't seem to rest my heart at all. You can't write, nor hold a pen but you have to- in order to keep the people you have left behind from insanity. Your father has often considered going to visit you but I stopped him each time- a journey that far would set his health in grave danger. Even though I stop your father, I regret not being able to go to you myself! I can only imagine that you are in the care of some old nurse, who can never guess your wishes nor attend to them with the care and affection as I once did. But that is all over for Henry tells me you are getting much better and I impatiently hope that you will confirm this news in your own writing.

Get well- and return to us. In your return, you will find a happy and cheerful home of family and friends. Your father is healthy, and he asks to see you, to be assured that you are doing well; and nothing will ever stop him from his constant worries about you. I can't wait until you see the changes in Ernest! He's now sixteen and full of commotion and character. He wants to be a true American and enlist into the army, but we can't do such thing, at least, not until his older brother comes home. My uncle isn't thrilled with the idea of a military career, but Ernest isn't the same as you were when you were once his age. He thinks of study as a horrible restriction; his free time is spent out in the open, climbing the hills or rowing on the lake. I am worried that he will become a "nothing" unless we give in and allow him to enter the military.

Since you left our side, not much has changed, other than the fact that the children have now grown quite a bit. The clear blue lake and snowy mountains never change and I think our peaceful home and hearts are regulated by the same laws. My petty activities take up my time and keep me amused, and I am rewarded by seeing those joyful faces around me. Only one significant change has taken place in our household. Do you remember why Justine Moritz entered our family? You probably don't and so I'll tell you a little about her history. Her mother was Madame Moritz, a widow with four children, and Justine was the third. The girl was always her father's favorite, but her mother couldn't stand the sight of her, and after the death of M. Moritz, abused her. My aunt saw this, and when Justine was twelve years old, prevailed on persuading her mother to allow to her to live at our house. A servant today does not mean the same thing as it did many years ago as Justine, who had now entered our family, learned the duties of a servant, which, in our country, doesn't include the ideas of ignorance and the sacrifice of a human being.

Justine, if you might remember, was one of your favorites, and, if I remember correctly, you once told me that if you were in a bad mood, one look from her could melt it all away. Caroline became greatly attached to her, and she soon became tempted to give her an education superior than her intentions. This assistance was fully repaid; Justine was the most grateful little thing I had ever seen. I'm not saying that your mother taught her to the point where she went out and became a nurse or such, but even though I never heard one word pass her lips, you could see by her eyes that she adored her dearly. Although she was happy and somewhat inconsiderate, she paid the greatest attention to every gesture of my aunt. She worked so hard to imitate her that she now often reminds me of Caroline herself.

When my dearest aunt Caroline died, everyone was too occupied in their own grief to notice poor Justine, who had been there throughout the course of her illness. Poor Justine was very ill, but it seems that the heavens still had other tests in mind.

One by one, her brothers and sisters died, and her mother, with the exception the neglected daughter, Justine, was left childless. She became troubled and began to think her children's deaths were a judgment from heaven to punish her prejudice. She was a Roman Catholic, and I think her confessor confirmed the idea as well. As a result, a few months after your departure, Justine was called to return home. Oh, the poor girl! She wailed when she left our house- she changed since her protector's death. Grief changed her from a lively girl to a meek, quiet one. The fact that she would now be living at her mother's house wasn't going to restore her happiness. The poor woman was wavering in her remorse. Sometimes, she would beg Justine to forgive her cruelty but much often, accused her of having something to do with her brothers and sister's deaths. The never ending worry made Madame Moritz sick, which, at first, increased her touchiness, but now, she is at peace. She died on the first approach of cold weather, at the beginning of this last winter. Justine came back to our home, and I promise you, I love her affectionately. She is very intelligent, compassionate and beautiful. As I mentioned before, her bearing and her expressions continually remind me of my dear aunt.

Oh, I almost forgot about William. I wish you could see him, Victor. He's very tall for his age, with sweet blue eyes, dark eyelashes, and curling hair. When he smiles, two little dimples appear on each rosy cheek. He has already had one or two little "wifeys", but Louise Biron is his favorite, a pretty five year old girl.

Well, I imagine you would want to know about all the gossip that's been going around, no? Haha, well, the pretty Miss Mansfield has already received congratulatory visits on her approaching marriage with a young Englishman, John Melbourne. Her repulsive sister, Manon, married M. Duvillard, the rich banker, last autumn. Your favorite schoolfellow, Louis Manoir, has suffered several misfortunes since Henry left Sherrill, but he has already recovered and has been reported to be on the brink of marrying a very pretty Frenchwoman, Madame Tavernier. I must admit, she is a widow, and is much older than Manoir, but she is very much admired and a favorite with everybody.

I have written myself into better spirits, dear cousin; but my anxiety returns upon me as I conclude. Write, dearest Victor-one line- one word would be a blessing to us. Ten thousand thanks to Henry for his kindness, his affection, and his many letters; we are sincerely grateful. Adieu! My cousin, take acre of yourself, and, I entreat you, write!

Elizabeth Lavenza

It was nice to hear from her and I immediately wrote back, only to feel terribly exhausted afterwards. I fell asleep, only to wake up three days later. Soon, I felt much better- enough to leave the house once again. From our encounter at Hyde Park, Henry has stayed with me since. One of the first things we did was to go around and introduce him to my professors: M. Krempe and M. Waldman. Waldman taught chemistry, and in him, I found a true friend. Krempe was very much less personal, but a spectacular natural philosophy professor. Throughout all of this, Henry noticed that I had a particular reaction whenever the matter of science came up—especially the lab. Therefore, he threw out the things in the lab and proceeded to make it his room, while persuading me to take a language class with him.

Spring came around, and as Henry and I came home one day, I found an email from my father.'

My dear Victor,

You must have been impatiently waiting for a letter telling you when to come home, and at first, I was tempted to write only a few lines, simply stating the date on which I should expect you. However, that would be a cruel kindness, and I would not dare myself to do such thing. What sort of surprise might it be, my son, when you have expected a happy welcome but to behold, tears and wretchedness? And how, Victor, can I speak about our misfortune? Absence cannot have made you insensitive to our joys and grieves, and how shall I inflict pain on my long-absent son? I want to prepare you for the unhappy news, but I know it is not possible. Even now, I cannot imagine what is going through your mind as you skim over the page to seek the words that pass on to you the horrible news.

William is dead! That sweet child, whose smiles delighted and warmed my heart- Victor, he is murdered!

I am not going to attempt to cheer you up, but I will tell you the story of how this entire incident occurred.

Last Thursday, (May 7th) I, my niece, and your two brothers went for a walk. It was a warm and serene evening, and we walked on a bit farther than usual. Soon, it was twilight and we thought of returning, when we realized that William and Ernest, who had gone on before, were nowhere in sight. We took a brief rest and waited for their return. Right then, Ernest came and asked if we had seen his brother. He said they had been playing, that William had run away to hide and though he sought for him in vain, and waited for him a long time afterwards, he did not return.

This startled us, and we continued to search for him until night fell, when Elizabeth suggested that he might have gone back home. He was not there. We came back, this time, with torches. I couldn't rest with the thought that my sweet boy had gotten lost somewhere out in the New York wilderness and was exposed to all the dangers and horrors of the night. Elizabeth, too, suffered. About five in the morning, we found him, my lovely boy, whom, the night before, I had seen thriving and lively in health, stretched on the grass livid and motionless, with the print of the murder's finger on his neck.

He was brought home, and the agony that in my expressions betrayed my will and revealed the truth to Elizabeth. She desperately wanted to see the corpse. At first, I tried to stop her, but she insisted, and upon entering the room where it lay, hastily examined the neck and exclaimed, "Oh, God! I have murdered my darling child!"

She fainted and it took us a while to bring her back but when she did, all she did was moan and sigh. She told me that William had pestered her about letting him wear the necklace of your mother. It is gone and without a doubt, it was most likely what brought him to do such horrible deed. We have no evidence or trace of a possible suspect at the moment, but we will not stop here. However, they will not restore my beloved William…

Come home. Only you can comfort Elizabeth. She continues to weep and accuses herself of his death and her words pierce my heart. We are all unhappy, but will not that be an additional motive for you, my son, to return and be our comforter? Oh, your mother! I can finally say, thank God she didn't live long enough to witness the cruel death of her youngest!

Come, Victor. Don't bother to think of vengeance against the assassin, but come home with feelings of peace and gentleness that will heal our wounds. Enter with kindness and affection for those whole love you, and not with hatred for your enemies.

Your affectionate and afflicted father,

Alphonse Frankenstein

With this, I began to sob violently and Henry became rather alarmed. "Victor, what's the matter?" Without even lifting my head, I handed the letter over to him. After several minutes, he, too, had the same reaction.

"Victor, what are you going to do?"

I grabbed several tissues and blew my nose. "I have to go to Sherrill, back home, as soon as possible. Henry, come with me."

We set off to board the earliest flight possible, which turned out to be at 2:47 AM. Exhausted with grief, my companion soon fell into a deep slumber. I, however, could find myself unable to close my eyes. The flight didn't take long, merely an hour, but felt agonizingly slow. I kept thinking about poor William, my father, and dearest Elizabeth. As we drew closer to home, although it was still dark out, the beauty of this place was still illuminated by the stars and sky. Everything was still as I once remembered it, but this entire situation seemed to make thing feel like it was my first time passing through. The plane landed, and though it was now sunrise, the entire city was dark. Rain poured down from the heavens, lightening flashed and thunder rang in our ears. A storm hung not only over our city, several of the neighboring cities, towns, and villages as well.

When I arrived at my brother's plot, the funeral was already over and his coffin was cover with a dark cloth. Inspired by the noble war in the sky, and not in the right state of mind, I cried out, "William, dear angel! This is thy funeral, thy dirge!" Just then a flash of lightening revealed a figure standing behind the trees. At first, I doubted myself, thinking that this was not possible, but I knew. I recognized my monster immediately- it's height, the awkward posture and its hideous deformity.

Why was she here? Did she have something to do with my brother's death? As soon as the mere thought of it crossed my mind, I was convinced it was the truth. This revelation struck me, and I fell upon dear William's coffin. The figure ran past me, and I soon lost sight of it in the darkness. Lightening flashed once more, and I spotted its fleeing shadow headed for the forest.