The day I left her, was the day I felt an immense weight had been lifted from my shoulders, one equating to that of the world. It was a huge relief having carried the burden of being guilty ridden, accused to no end and driven to the brink of insanity. It killed me inside to think how she'd cope with this. No doubt, she wouldn't take it lightly. She'd throw a fit of temper and conduct herself in such a childish manner. She tended to behave like this when things didn't go her way. Only one thing's for certain; she'd never get over this. Or forgive me. I know this oh too well, this being one of the reasons why I deserted her.
Perhaps I'd better elaborate on my seemingly harsh decisions. Leaving someone on their wedding day seems cruel and inhumane, and you're immediately groped with countering if there is a solid and substantial reason as to justifying your departure. A day when two betrothed couples vowed promises of forever ought to be filled with blissful memories and unexplainable joy and optimism for the future, I know. It was meant be perfect. The last thing you'd want to do is rob them of that happiness, right?
But you see I had every right to leave. I didn't make this decision impulsively. I wouldn't proceed ahead with irrational reasoning and I don't take well to being labelled the bad guy. It was getting a little too much for me to handle. If I so much as batted an eye at another lady, the accusations would be hurtled like daggers, and then the tears would fall. I hated those tears. I always felt so guilty, even though I knew I did nothing wrong. I couldn't leave her, as much as I wanted to. I just hated seeing her like that. You don't know how fatiguing it is to deal with these tantrums. And they didn't just happen here and there; it seemed we couldn't go a day without it happening. If you can imagine what I had to deal with, you'd probably do the same as me. With her frequent and untimely outbursts, you'd think she was a sufferer of bipolar.
Things weren't always like this. We weren't always at each other's throats, fighting like cats and dogs. Believe or not there were times when I looked into her eyes, and they were the most beautiful of eyes, and my heart fluttered. Her smile was dazzling and contagious, capable of lifting me from the foulest of moods, and I found myself smiling along. She was beautiful in a unique way, her beauty unaltered by age. Her placid demeanour made her a pleasant company to be around. It was only when she was ravaged by jealousy that she turned ugly. She refused to eat. She grew thin and weary. This skeletal woman skulked around the house and became reclusive. She was but a ghost of my lover. What happened to the woman I had fallen in love with?
I recall one of the most appalling events occurred during a booze fuelled evening that was meant only for heartfelt entrainment and laughter. Once she'd downed a couple glasses of wine, I advised her wisely to cease. But she's a stubborn woman and the inevitable happened. She raised her dressed and flashed her knickers, just above the ankle. Even a man, as devious and manipulative as me, was left completely and utterly aghast. Frankly, I was appalled and disgusted by her lewd advances. I don't in anyway condone such behaviour; especially as to what she was hinting-premarital sex. A part of me felt greatly tempted to give in but I was horrified at myself. Her influences on me were taking a sickening effect. If it were not so determined I'd upped and left then and there. But I'm a man of patience and so of course I stayed.
And so it continued. Somehow we arranged to be wed. Oh, what was any of us thinking? I regretted it every second, every minute, every hour. Every day... All I could think about was a clever scheme into eloping out of this train wreck. The thought of waking up every day to this deranged woman was enough to evoke all my most frightening nightmares. In fact, at that moment I was living in it, or rather I was about to. How could I have possibly let it get this far? Here's how; I was blinded by greed. I lusted for her wealth. No longer were riches and gold my motivation to stay with her. I'd somehow convinced myself that all of it was of no use or need. My only motivation was now a means of escaping as quickly and as far away from her as possible.
I couldn't bear another petty argument. I couldn't bear another accusation: where were you? Who was she? Where are you going? I couldn't bear another restless night, tossing and turning besides her. Only when I closed my eyes and blissful thoughts of escaping drifted into my mind, did I lull into a peaceful slumber. But even then the peace didn't last for long. She'd found every possible way to get to me. To further torment me … She sauntered down the path of the church, long white gown fitting beautifully, the hem trailing down. Nestled in her hands were a bouquet of roses and the organ swelled. Her cheeks were alive with colour and a pert smile graced her lips. I'd awake with a start, heart thudding a mile a minute. This reoccurring nightmare drove me insane. I had to admit it, no matter how much I didn't want to. I couldn't bear her.
On the day of our wedding I left her note. I couldn't possibly bring myself to face her. God knows what she'd do to me. Strangle me with her bare hands? Strike me one fatal blow? It all seemed possible, but there was something far worse that I feared. Eyes filled with lament and mourn would plead to me, and the silent tears that would escape. And it was me, ME who was responsible for all this. Had I not put her through even trouble already? Had I not inflicted enough injuries to her wounds? I couldn't continue on hurting her like this nor did I particularly take to seeing her in such a state. What am I? I'm a monster. I had been selfish; only lusting after her wealth. But as time went I really did fall for her and realized what a truly magnificent woman she was. I understand her possessiveness of me; she wanted me all to herself and had become so demented to the point where to her every lady was after me too. This decision was for the best... for the both of us. It'd be best if we were apart.
I could never have gone through with this wedding. The whole notion was absurd in itself; the two of us in holy matrimony. The days to come would inevitably stretch out like a prison sentence in front of me. I was a fool, yes, and I tell you I've learnt my lesson. I've indeed managed to dodge a bullet. Never shall I scam a lady of her wealth again. I know now, through that laborious ordeal, that it would only bring forth pain and misery. If you're like me, I warn you and take my word for it, resist this temptation. It's everyone's desire to be wealthy but trust me, it's not how one should go about to earn it. If you love someone it'll have nothing to do with their wealth but rather their character. And the poor soul you're scamming would have their heart ripped to pieces if they should hear of it. Like poor Miss Havisham. I don't partly blame her for this ordeal. A great deal, if anything, was of my doing. She was deceived with false hope and promises I could never keep. And for that I'm ashamed. I only hope she finds the man she truly desires and deserves, although at this point she'd want to avoid as many men as possible, should the events be repeated, and reconciliation is out of the question.