Yours for Eternity: A Love Story on Death Row (10 page)

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 forever 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?