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The waves crashed over the shores, thrashing and howling like wolves in the Midnight hour. The chill of the evening would have dragged me into sleep if my brain had not flooded with the vile apprehension of my thoughts. My heart was now a heavy burden I bore, dragging a chain of fear along my path wherever I ceded. The warmth of Clerval consoled me from the chill, his resting form a man's height away from mine in the small tented fort. My teeth ground against each other, my breath catching in my throat whenever the cacophony of thunder rang, in horror that it was the wretch's great roar traveling towards my current disposition to punish me for my delay on its ghastly request. My breath came out in rough gasps throughout the hour of darkness. I endeavored to calm my breathing in hopes not to disturb the sleep of Clerval, yet the rustling of my sheets brought the inevitable fate of his wake. I attempted to soothe my friend as he began to groan from the side of the tent, slowly shushing him back into his lethargic state of calm. I so heavily wished that it would infect my own awakened form. I cursed God's heavenly grace as sleep still did not come, my mind a warring army of starving men, loading cannons only to war with their own selves. My eyes traced the sharp angles of my companion’s face, distracting myself from the haunting curse of the dæmon I had so selfishly given life. The slight crooked curve of Clerval's nasal bone soothed me, despite the painful hand of life striking down my happiness, and my heart rate slowed as I stared.
Though my heart sickened, the warmth of Clerval's form brought me to a comfort no nurse or holy mother could conceive. My heart, to my grand dismay, restored its pounding after my eyes wore from tracing the silhouette of Clerval's countenance. I rejected my desire to wake my companion and soothe my anxious, racing heart by indulging in a friendly conversation with him. The chill soon began to nip at my nose; though I could not see in the darkness, I was aware of the redness dawning on my cheeks from the freeze. I soon sat up in the abundance of sheets that covered the floor of the tent, brushing my sweaty hair from my forehead, a sigh spilling from my lips. Tonight was the last night of my voyage, the last night I would spend, not shackled by my creature's request. I would depart from the countenance of Clerval, and the gentle lakes and clear skies of Switzerland, the company of Clerval in the part of Scotland where we now lay, and take a painful refuge in Scotland, alone to complete my work in cold solitude. I had desired to spend this night in the mountains, so with the help of Henry, we set up a small tent in the central east, settling in Perth.
When I moved from the spot where I lay, it must have rattled the spines of the tent, knowing that as I sat, Clerval's body shifted, and soon was sitting up in the fort as well, his eyes roaming over my anxious brow, concern etching onto his face. Soon, worry overcame my friend, and his calming voice rang out in the tent. “What burden pains you, my dear friend? Have the likes of my actions troubled you in this late hour?”
I almost laughed at the thought of being angry with him. He was the soul spark to my purpose, the only light guiding me through the dark, disturbing caves of my mind. I lay back down. “...Of course not, Clerval, my anger in my soul has never been by your hand,” I murmured to the ceiling as Henry brushed his hair from his face in my periphery. My thoughts raged violently like snakes as Henry’s eyes stayed set on my face. Once again, I selfishly spoke. “I have created something dreadful, my friend, a monstrosity beyond the delusions of the common man…it has eaten into my soul and carved a hole into my bosom. I fear that it will do the same to you, dear friend, the apprehension that it will find the clear, beautiful realms of your soul and soil its delightful air with cold, reched blood of its hatred…I am haunted by my wrongdoings, I have murdered my brother and beautiful Justine, and disregarded the likes of my dear father and cousin…I am a spoil, a rotting being, stained by my mistakes…and now I must pay my dues…Yet you, my friend, you have opened my mind and dispensed knowledge I now cherish, you have amused my heart and turned my sadness to ash when I am in your presence, the anger I feel towards my own soul contrasts the beauty your soul continues to hold.”
I feared his response, as he stayed silent for what felt as if it could be a fortnight, yet I knew it was only a matter of time before he spoke. A laugh left his lips before it ceded into a smile. I felt his warm hand cup my cheek in the dark of the tent before he softly spoke, “My happiness comes from my stupidity, Victor…if I had your brilliant mind, I would notice the pains of the world, I would blame myself for the monster of my anger, I would blame myself for the death of those I love and the misfortune of others, yet I am not.” He once again laughed. “I am a simple man, I do not need much, yet you, you have greatness embedded in you, and my only wish in this cruel life is for your happiness. It would be an honor to face the cold grasp of death by the hand of your brilliance.”
I was grateful for his silence after he spoke, because it gave me time to reflect on the beautiful soul of the man who consoled me. Henry Clerval was a boy when we met, charming, handsome, wild, beautifully stupid in the way that satisfied my every desire. He had cried when I departed for Ingolstadt, and tears again slipped down his cheeks when he had seen the violent depression I had induced myself to when I had created my monster. He had soothed me, taking the objects that chained me to my misery out of my sight, so I could live peacefully. His hand had held mine tightly when he heard the tragic news of poor William. I was struck by the epiphany that I did not want to leave him, and my heart felt as if it were being drained of its blood, and warm tears slowly flooded from my eyes, dampening my lashes. I suddenly felt disgusted as I wished the monstrous wretch would kindly, calmly, caringly slay my darling Elizabeth so she would not be stained by the horrible sin I so heavily desired to commit. I did not beg God, yet I accepted the entry to hell I would soon be acquainted with. When Clerval still did not speak, I took the time to do so instead. My body coiled in hatred as I whispered through my tears. “Forgive me…for I will damn us both.”
My lips caught his mouth slowly, tentatively, and as I waited for the cold strike of his rebuff, it did not come. Instead, his forehead landed onto mine, and his spare hand traveled to the unoccupied right side of my face, consoling me in a way I thought only the warm fate of my own death could. His leg tucked between my own as the salt of my weeping slid into the sinful lock of our lips. He groaned into my mouth, and I damned myself further as the pulsing of my erection traveled to my head, straining against my pants. My hands swarmed like summer locusts into the softness of his light mahogany locks as I felt his tongue delve between my parted lips. I did not know how I was meant to feel aside from any medical aspect of my arousal. I had noted Clerval's growing erection, yet I still endeavored to know his feelings. I did not feel the way I felt in the company of Elizabeth, her beauty and kindness beyond any man’s desires, yes, yet my heart did not stutter in the vile, sinful way it did when the likes of my friend's mouth was attached to mine. Maybe I was not aware of what you were meant to feel, Clerval, and I were only twenty years of age as we fornicated beyond the eyes of anyone I had loved. My eyes widened harshly as his lips moved from my own, giving my lungs time to refill with air, and his mouth encircled the pulse point of my nape, causing me to squirm from underneath him, yet his disposition did not change at my discomfort; instead, he soothingly ran his hand across the left side of my jaw. His right hand reached downwards, tentatively running his palm across my manhood, causing a feverish chill to run down my spine.
Once he knew of my enjoyment regarding his actions, he became harsher in his movements, unpracticed hands clumsily running up and down my cock through the thin material of my trousers. My hands soon tugged at the buttons of his shirt, and he immediately complied with my request, tearing the linen off himself to reveal the light tan of his lean chest, and my hands roved up and down the muscles of his abdomen, tracing his ribs, feeling the warmth of a living being, a harsh contrast to the freezing, clammy flesh of my hell-brought creation. He soon tore my own blouse I wore to sleep, exposing the pale, thin shape of my torso. He splayed his fingers over my beating heart before his opposing hand finally slid down my waistline, gripping the pulsing, beating pain of my manhood. I gasped, the sin of the intimacy catching up to me, but the calm, beautiful eyes of Clerval soothed me as he began to softly pump his fingers against my burning skin. He was a handsome man, with olive skin, light brown eyes, and a nose apparent and Augustan in silhouette. He had a warm smile and straight, pearly white teeth, along with freckles dappled about his countenance.
The time I had spent studying my friend's features, an unfamiliar feeling built inside my gut. He sneakily smirked as he saw my face contort, my eyes rolling back into my skull as the tight knot that formed inside of my abdomen broke loose, a rugged groan ripped from my throat as I spilled over the hand of my dear companion. After the shock of my release, I was hit with the cruel reality of my selfishness as I realized Henry’s lack of pleasure. Yet as my eyes traveled down, the moonlight shone a messy stain across the tanned material of his pants. His lips soon found mine again, this time meeting mine in less haste. I gladly accepted his actions, slowly responding to the gentle assault of my mouth, and my tears had now dried. He soon took his mouth from mine, laying his head on my chest as he draped the covering over our sweat-ridden forms.
I would leave the next morning, leave to melt in my own hatred and vile obsession, while he would make his way from Perth and continue the likes of our travels on his own. Yet I relished in the sin of my actions. I was damned by God, subjected to a life of painful punishment in the infernos of hell, yet I would not be lonely in my eternal prison, for I had damned us both. Our eyes locked onto each other’s, and did not leave until the warm hand of sleep reached to drag me into her arms. The last words I would hear from the mouth of Henry were quiet, simple, and calm, yet they warmed in a way nothing else would.
“You could not damn me if you tried, my friend…”