Yours for Eternity: A Love Story on Death Row Read online

  Isn’t it so wonderful to be completely overpowered by these feelings and emotions, even if they do also bring pain? To feel it so strongly that it destroys any hope of rational thought, action, or feeling? I love it. It’s impossible to not be completely swept away, devoured. Nothing else could even come close to it. This is what I have been looking for my entire life, but I never even knew what I was looking for. All I knew was that I had a huge hole in me, a sense of emptiness that nothing ever filled, but now I have a sense of being complete, the hole is gone, the emptiness is gone, the pain is gone, everything is gone, and now everything fits together. This is why I am here, this is what was meant to be. Words are so useless now, it’s as if I could keep talking forever and still never even come close to saying what I want to say, what I feel. But I know you understand.

  Yesterday, I loved when we were both silent as much or more than when we were talking. The bits of silence were when I could feel the strongest sense of peace, the feeling of all being as it should be. I wish I could have prolonged them for eternity. To be able to just sit and feel you, look at you, to know you are so near. It’s just one more thing in a long list of things that I will never be able to describe.

  *

  Another thing I really hate about being here is that I have to wear the same clothes all the time, I can never wear what I want to. And today, I have an incredible urge to wear a suit, vest, and tie. I don’t know why, it’s just something I feel like doing today. I thought a lot about what you were saying about wanting me to let you dress me in your clothes, and how you think it would be fun, and I have another idea, another plan. One night, you can dress me completely as a woman, I will dress you completely as a man, even hide your hair under a hat, and we will go out like that, just to see if anyone can even notice. We have to take lots of pictures, and we have to ride in a horse and buggy. Maybe that would be great. It would be just like in The Witching Hour when Julian and his sister did the same thing. She was evening smoking a cigar! They became the scandal of the entire town. We have to do that.

  *

  I thought you were going to start crying on the phone this morning, I couldn’t take it. It’s unbearable to hear you cry, especially when I can’t be there to help, to hold you. It’s agony. You were talking about how you felt bad because you were losing control. Lorri, it’s not bad if you just stop trying to control it. Just release all control and let it happen as it will, and I promise that you’ll feel better, you’ll love it. Just let it run and spread like wildfire. Trust me, OK? Everything’s going to be fine. We’re together, and nothing else matters. Just let everything else melt away. Nothing else matters.

  *

  They just told me that my father and his wife will be here to see me on Monday. This will be an ordeal. How will I carry on a conversation with anyone in the state that I’m in now? I can’t pay attention without drifting off, I can’t even think without my thoughts coming full circle to land right back on you, constantly wondering what you are thinking at every moment, wondering what you’re doing, wondering exactly how you’re feeling. It’s a never-ending cycle. I wonder if my father will even be able to tell the difference. He always seems to be so caught up in himself that he more than likely won’t even notice. I guess that’s good for now though. At least I won’t have to answer 10,000 questions, the main one being, “What’s wrong?” I hate that question, and it seems that I hear it more and more often lately. Oh well.

  Forever and after to my dearest one,

  Damien

  July 29, 1996

  Dearest Damien,

  I am now at the airport in St. Louis. I can’t believe it—I passed out again! I don’t know what’s going on. I feel so weak. I tried to eat a plum (I didn’t buy the peach because of what you said about sharing it) but I couldn’t eat it because I got sick. I wonder how you are doing. I just hope you are O.K. I’m a fright to look at—I swear I look like I’ve seen a ghost. Suddenly I have huge black circles under my eyes and I am white as a sheet.

  Damien Echols—what have you done to me? I am smiling as I write that. This is the only thing that makes me feel better, to write to you—have some kind of contact with you. The people in the airport—they’re all scared of me—you know, they try to make small talk sometimes, but when they see my teary face they turn away—don’t want to look. It’s funny. I don’t want anyone to talk to me, anyway.

  I’m so happy that finally in my life I feel like loving someone—it’s a wonderful feeling. I always thought it would never happen to me.

  I feel like I don’t even need to eat or sleep anymore.

  The woman who took me out—she was nice—I tried to explain to them that Mr. Martin at ext. 403 had arranged for me to stay another hour—she tried—but she couldn’t find anything in writing—she kept calling me “Lorri,” [everybody called me Ms. Davis, and sometimes Ms. Echols] and she made sure I got the book.

  I suppose it’s good to know we really exist—isn’t it? It just made it worse for me. I kept saying to myself that your appearance didn’t matter to me—but I can’t say that anymore. Your arms are so lanky and beautiful—your hands I will never forget. I truly have never seen such lovely hands. And your eyes. It’s true—looking at your skin—I know what it feels like—it’s perfectly smooth—it has that coolness of very, very white skin.

  O.K. I can do this. I can accept this day. I can live with the pain—because to not live with this pain of longing—means to not live with you—at least for now.

  So I will be very, very strong.

  I will make it once again a part of us, because I can no longer say a part of me—because that no longer exists.

  I am happy. I now know where you are. I can see you, I can imagine the place.

  I called Susan from the parking lot where I passed out and I was almost hysterical—I couldn’t figure out what to do because this makes no sense to me. Susan’s great—she just tells me what I would tell me . . . Lorri—just live it (Damien, it’s what you would tell me—just relax). So . . . I am trying now to relax. I have never had a harder afternoon—you know, even when I knew I was leaving David and my heart was broken and I thought the pain would never go away—well, this afternoon was different. It was like I knew you were so close—I could’ve been breathing the same air—and I felt like I was just lying in a field—well . . . maybe because I was! I was so scared—but I don’t know why.

  I must tell you something very funny, that I realized just now. I was looking out the window of this plane and I was biting my lip and looking in a certain way and I felt like I had your face. I think I managed to engrave your mannerisms in my mind.

  I have to stop, now.

  I love you.

  Lorri*

  July 31, 1996

  My Dearest Lorri,

  For some reason, I feel a little guilty because you said that you thought seeing me in person would have eased your pain a little, or have made things a little easier for you. But I knew that wouldn’t be the case, I knew what my physical appearance would do to you, I knew how it would make you feel. But I had to see you, to sit in the same room with you, to drink you up. It also ended up being a double-edged sword, because I was entranced by you, I would be content to sit and watch you forever. You are beautiful. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more beautiful creature. I know I’ve never seen a more beautiful creature. No one and nothing has ever held my attention so completely and totally as you do. I wanted to hold my breath every time you moved.

  The only reason your age “freaked me out” is because I feel so much older than you, and I guess it just slips my mind sometimes that I’m not. Your age doesn’t matter to me, it just shocked me for a second that you could possibly be older than me. That’s the only way I know how to explain it, because once again, “the words don’t fit.” I know you will understand what I mean.

  You asked what’s to become of us. I have no idea, but we have forev
er to figure it out, and I will never take even a single second of it for granted. I have always despised time, because it slips away like the wind, and I never notice until the day comes when I look back and realize all that has passed, all that has happened, and all that has changed, then I feel the cold black emptiness creeping over me again, but you make me realize that time is not always my enemy. Because with you, not even eternity would be enough time.

  You were also talking about falling in love. I’ve been steadily falling deeper in love with you ever since you asked me about chastity belts, whirling dervishes, 17-year locusts, and Paganini. From that moment on, I was completely swept away. You are the most lovely form of poison. This is true magick, magick in its purest, rarest, most powerful form. It’s everything in the world.

  I know how you feel, because I want you too. To be completely lost in you, to let the world dissolve until only you’re left. Just relax right now, though, we have all the time in the world and we will be together. All it will take is just a little more time. I know it’s hard to have patience, so I just keep telling myself that I’ve waited such a long, long time for you that a little more time isn’t going to be so bad. I can do it. You make everything worthwhile.

  So you want to bite me that bad, huh? You can bite me all you want, but I give you advance warning—I will trade your every bite for a kiss—your hands, your face, your lips, your ears, it doesn’t matter. But every time you bite me, I will kiss you.

  Sending all the love I am capable of giving to my dear one,

  Damien

  August 1, 1996

  My dearest Lorri,

  I received the most beautiful letter from you today, though I doubt you were feeling very beautiful at the time. It’s the one you wrote from the St. Louis airport. The emotion was so strong, and I could feel it so clearly. I could see you writing it in my mind, and it’s so beautiful. It affected me so strongly, I was throwing up, couldn’t stop shaking and crying. Not to mention cramping up. I just love you so much, and it’s causing so many wonderful, painful things, in my body, mind, heart and spirit. I could never express with words how dear and special you are, how much you mean to me.

  *

  You were beautiful beyond description. I was trying to memorize everything about you, so that I can reconstruct it in my mind again and again. I love those little tiny lines around your eyes. And I couldn’t decide if your eyes were grey or light green. But I love them. Everything about you seemed so tiny, but your ears were the best. I would love to kiss them.

  *

  I feel so completely overcome with emotion right now that I don’t even know what to do or say anymore. So I only sit here, thinking to myself. It’s all I can do.

  Lorri, next month my case goes before the Arkansas Supreme Court. A few people are building up energy, which they will focus and release to help the case along, but I need you, too. I need you to every day, concentrate with everything you have for a few minutes on pulling me to you. All you have to do is pull as hard as you can. I don’t think you even realize just how strong you are yet. You have very powerful natural gifts. Just pull me to you.

  I love you more than you can imagine, beautiful creature,

  D.

  August 3, 1996

  My dearest Damien:

  I have been crazed all day—I couldn’t wait to get home so that I could write to you. The letters you wrote after you saw me were so incredible. So beautiful. I like what you said about me being “simple” and uncomplicated in my physical appearance. That is exactly the way I see myself. It’s funny, too, when I talk to people who know me about their first impression of me—it’s always so different from what they know. They usually think I am how I look, which I am—I think—but there’s that whole other side—the “spooky” side that no one sees and that you alone know. I like it—it makes me feel like I have a natural camouflage—I can’t be seen.

  Whereas you—you are so uncannily physically beautiful that you draw people to you—in a way that must be exciting—is it scary sometimes? Those beautiful, full-of-everything eyes of yours—I just want to look into them forever. I will never forget them. Once again—the opposites of each other—you the male in body, but so exquisite—me the female but so straightforward—kind of like the ducks! (But the opposite.) I love it.

  I would love to see you unclothed—you must be a vision—sometimes I imagine what your body would look like—very thin and delicate in a way—but so fine—like porcelain—every vertebra would show—ribs, too—very little hair, but where it is, it is very black. Lots of shadows on your body—can see blue veins through the skin in some places. White, white skin—not even stretched across bone—it fits you perfectly—there is no strain—unmarked—so, so beautiful. I know you are.

  *

  I am fortunate in the fact that I don’t suffer from the American female “I hate my body” state of mind. I have always loved it—not the way it looks—or any vain aspect—but that it’s me—it does wonderful things for me—why not respect it? I can’t understand why people mistreat or hate their bodies. I feel sad for them . . .

  Oh you . . .

  You just called and I must say I have never wanted to be with someone so badly as I want to be with you at this very moment. My whole body is alive with it . . . it is agony.

  *

  In complete and bewildering love,

  Lorri

  August 5, 1996

  Dearest Damien,

  You asked me today if I was surprised at how fast things have happened with us—if I even imagined after I mailed the first letter—I think I’m only relieved—that you are who you are—I honestly don’t think the feeling of “surprise” has ever come about. Confusion sometimes, even a slight feeling of fear—because of the profound nature of it all—I suppose the way people who finally or first experience a true miracle or see their efforts or sincere beliefs come to pass—there can only be a small amount of fear—but that has gone, now. What about you—are you surprised? I suppose it’s a little different for you—I mean, for me it was like a lightning bolt hit me, literally. I was kind of in shock for a while until I figured out what to do—but for you—I just sort of called out and you were there. Are you surprised?

  Completely with all my love,

  Lorri

  August 7, 1996

  My Dearest Lorri,

  Last night, after we talked I was so upset and hurting so bad that I was going insane. I didn’t know what to do, so I called Rick.* As soon as he answered the phone, I didn’t even give him a chance to say anything, I just began to rave like a lunatic, about pain and beauty, life and rebirth, destiny, chance, and just about every other abstract concept you can think of, and I was crying so hard that I’m surprised he could even understand a word I was saying. When I finally shut up, he sat there for a minute, completely silent, then took a deep breath and said, “So the rock star’s in love, huh?” I was struck completely dumb! Then I started laughing! I couldn’t believe I was so transparent. I think the strangest part was that he completely and totally understood. I knew beyond a doubt that he understood what I was feeling, even though he couldn’t feel it himself. Just like your friend Luis, and what he told you. They both understood. Maybe they can just feel it radiating from us or something. Maybe only someone completely dead wouldn’t be able to see or feel it. I don’t know. It must be extremely powerful.

  *

  Yes, it will be so wonderful to be unclothed, completely naked with you, to have absolutely nothing between us. I would love to trace the shape of your entire body with my fingertips and mouth, to kiss every inch of you, from head to foot. To be able to have my arms around you, holding you against me, just flesh against flesh, nothing to separate us. That is the way I would want to stay for eternity, to just hold you forever.

  I love you,

  D.

  August 8, 1996

  My Dearest Damien,
/>   Speaking to you on the phone tonight was so fun—I like finding out things about you, like you’ve acted. I would love to see you act—I know you would be so great at it—you have such presence. So . . . you were in the gifted program—that’s so funny because I was, too (as I told you)—did they have you take an IQ test? They did me—you had to have at least a certain IQ to get into the gifted class—I liked it a lot because we got to get on a bus and go to a whole other school for 2 days out of 5. That’s where I learned how to play chess and develop black-and-white film.

  *

  Damien—it would be so fun to have a bookstore together! I’ve been thinking about it. I can’t stand it that you don’t get each and every book that’s ever sent to you.

  I have an image of that bookstore in my mind—what a wonderful place.

  *

  I’m lying on my bed, in my bedroom (imagine that—a bed in a bedroom (!))—the walls in my room are very pale yellow, the floor is wood, my bed is very plain—I have one lamp (very old) and a clock that is a 1/2 hour fast. There is nothing on the walls except a mirror I bought on Broadway 5 years ago. I like things very, very plain—bare almost. There is one window in here with a plain white curtain. This is where I always talk to you. I want you to know where I am.

  *

  D: Will you try to explain your feelings of getting a second chance? What do you think it means? In a way, I think I know—even though I said I feel so new at this, meaning dealing with it—I feel we’ve been here before—I have felt that strongly since I found you. Also—could you tell me what you wrote about my breathing? I was so giddy on the phone—I wanted to hear more about everything!! Everything about you.