Yours for Eternity: A Love Story on Death Row

by Damien Echols

  I love you, Damien. It hurts, but it’s exquisite.

  L.

  August 3, 1998

  My lover,

  I cannot wait to get all of those college books. I feel as if I am undertaking a huge task. I’m very excited about it, too. By the time I do get to school, I won’t even have to open a single book. I’ll finish all my work in a matter of minutes, make perfect grades, and have plenty of time to look around and examine everyone and everything else. I cannot stop thinking about those books. I can hardly wait for this.

  *

  You’ll not be getting any of those letters that people send, because when I sent them to you a long time ago, it hurt you very badly, and you made me promise that I would look out for you, and not let you have anything that would harm you, no matter how hard you begged. You made me promise you that. So I cannot let you have them. I’m just looking out for your best interests, and my sanity.

  *

  I do not understand why you say you liked New York so much, if it’s as disgusting as you say. But I cannot wait to go there with you. I think of going places with you all the time now. I want to go everywhere with you and do everything with your beautiful little self.

  *

  I just watched a National Geographic show about sperm whales. Lorri, I cannot get in the ocean. It terrifies me. It’s a nightmare. It’s not even the creatures I’m thinking of, it’s all that water. I would lose my mind in it, I would not be able to stop screaming. I can’t do it, Lorri, I’m just too scared. I don’t want you trying to make me do it, either. There are things in there, Lorri. I can feel them. I can’t even look at pictures of it without getting chills, and my stomach feels like it’s falling. I can handle a swimming pool, and the river won’t bother me. I don’t know about a lake. It depends on what it looks like. In my dreams I’m always flying, and it seems to be the most natural thing in the world, I don’t even think about it. And I would love to be fire. I would swim in it. But I cannot take the big waters.

  I love you,

  D.

  August 4, 1998

  My beloved:

  I know when I am so intensely sad at being apart from you, I know it makes it very hard on you—but there are times in this life with you that it becomes . . . not unbearable, for it is a pain I accept—it is almost “home” to me or at least it is something I understand completely—but I want to be happy for all of this love I feel—not sad.

  But it is during these times when it is so intense that I feel myself falling deeper—it’s been like this for a while and I love it—oh, I love you more, more with each passing minute, but these passages of time that I feel myself in at the moment . . .

  It is like falling down a very, very long flight of stone steps—it hurts so much, but not enough to kill me, or even scar me, yet I want to keep falling for it is taking me to a much deeper place in the house—that’s just what it seems like. My love for you has always been this way, it affects me physically—it manifests itself in my body—as well as my heart and soul. I wish you could feel how strong it is within me—how it will accomplish what it needs to bring you to me.

  Today, when I was walking from my car to my house, a voice sprung out of nowhere, it was kind of amused, but it said, “Aren’t you amazed at how fast everything is happening—you are now living in Arkansas and you were sent here to receive him!” That’s what I mean—the magick is very strong now, I can feel it—the magick that has brought us together.

  *

  Did you watch Rebecca? I am trying to listen or watch every little thing that you do, even more than ever—’cause it does something to me—but sometimes watching TV hurts too much. I don’t want you to see that stuff. I know that sounds awful. But I don’t. I don’t want you to see any of it. I’m in a very, very possessive way right now . . . And yet, none of it can touch you or touch me.

  Yours forever,

  L.

  August 6, 1998

  My Dearest One,

  I feel a little hurt tonight, wounded. It’s because I keep thinking of the things you were saying, about how you feel alone, because you are going through something right now that is not the same as I feel. And you say, “You sound good,” as if it’s an accusation. It makes me feel as if I am the one who is alone. You always act as if you are the only one who ever has to feel some things, as if I am completely exempt from any suffering or pain. Well, I am not. And it makes me feel as if the things I say to you never penetrate very deeply, they only float on the surface. Or maybe only select things. You seem to pick the things you want to penetrate and those you do not. I say that because I’ve told you a thousand times before when I was feeling as you now are. Yet now you still feel as if you’re the only one. I’m really, really trying not to sound bitter or mean, because I know it’s just my hurt feelings that are talking right now. I’ll deal with it and all will be well.

  All day long I kept thinking about how I know exactly how you are feeling, so I must be so, so sweet with you, and handle you so gently. I must be whispers and rose petals. Yet, now I feel very selfish, as if I am making things even harder for you.

  I really wish I could carry you through this time, love. I would take it all for you if I could. I would make sure you never felt any pain. I love you so much, Lorri. I hope you can feel that. One day I’ll find a way to show you. I love you, I love you, I love you. We’ll be together soon. I belong to you.

  I am yours for eternity,

  D.

  September 1, 1998

  My dearest:

  I’m having one of those days when I am overcome with the love I have for you, and the love you have for me—it is euphoria, Damien, it is why I live.

  Tonight, I leave to come see you. Well, to come look at you for 3 days—to be near you while they hold you in that place—but I’ll be holding you so close to me. I know you will feel it the whole time.

  Yes, we will have fun this time and I will not shed a tear—there is no reason for me to be sad—my heart skips a beat just thinking of being in the same room with you with no glass between us—just wood, chairs, and bodies—much easier than 1/4˝ glass.

  Damien, that Sarah that works at the prison—who takes my appointments to see you—she’s good—she always wants me to see you—I called her today and thanked her for it. I don’t do things like that often—but I did today. I hope she stays there for a while.

  I am amazingly calm—I hope you are as well. I look forward even to the nights of just sitting in that hotel room alone—feeling you. It reminds me of when I used to come down here to see you. How I would sit in those unknown places—yet I knew you were so close by.

  I never want you to be physically separated from me again. I will always go where you go. I feel better than I ever have about one of these things. Very strong, very confident. Something is going to happen, I can feel it, yet I protect that feeling—not to “jinx” it so to speak. It’s good.

  You have a whole wardrobe to choose from this time. I hope the stuff is OK.

  You’ll be lovely.

  I must leave. I love you, Damien.

  Lorri

  October 9, 1998

  My love,

  The court date draws near. This time I look forward to it. It even excites me to know I will soon be wearing the clothes you have chosen for me.

  It’s almost Samhain, All Hallow’s Eve, Halloween. It will be a good one this year. No pain, only fun.

  Do you know that it used to be customary to pay the executioner that would behead you? That way he would do it in one stroke and get it over with, because sometimes it would take him four or five tries to do it correctly. And if there were many to be killed on the same day, everyone wanted to be the first, so that the blade was still sharp. Then a French doctor invented the guillotine.

  Forever,

  D.

  October 13, 1998

  My Dearest:

&
nbsp; Today at breakfast I thought, “I need advice.” I haven’t asked advice, except from you, in so, so long—and I thought . . . who is the wisest person I know? And my first thought was you!! But I can’t ask you advice about this. If I am quiet enough and don’t let myself get all riled up and I stay out of it and just trust you to do whatever you have to do—then isn’t that the best advice? Look within my own heart for the answer?

  I love you, Damien,

  Lorri

  October 26, 1998

  My Dearest:

  Here I sit in this courtroom—Damien, you look so incredibly beautiful. You really are perfection. It looks like they let you have the brush; I can’t tell about the razor. I’m not so freaked out about all of these people. It feels good, all I feel is how much I love you, how much I adore you.

  I am unable to see the shoes—your mom came up to me and said to tell you that you look so beautiful in your glasses. And she’s going to be here all week. Melissa* asked a bailiff if I could come up and see you, but he said no. She said she would keep checking.

  *

  Cally called right before I left on Sunday to wish you much luck, as did Susan. You are much loved my dear, and that is a good thing, because what’s not to love?

  Eat, Damien, whatever it is—meat, bread, milk, I don’t care—eat enough. I asked Cally to call Ed Mallett to ask him to take those chains off. It doesn’t look like she was successful.

  Melissa said she is happy to be here for you, she likes talking to you. That makes me happy, too. It’s going well, my love, even Melissa said so, and she isn’t usually very forthcoming with hope.

  *

  I am staying at the Wilson Inn. It’s better than the last place I stayed and not nearly as bad as where you are staying.

  *

  I swear when you walked into the courtroom there was an audible gasp from the crowd—probably because you look so fetching.

  I love you, my dear, and I am with you forever,

  L.

  October 27, 1998

  Damien,

  I am going to try something, I am going to make this happen. At the next recess I am going to approach the bailiff myself and if he wants to lord over us, I don’t care. I will try with each and every bailiff until someone lets me come up there.

  I like this forensic odontologist—he reminds me of a Dr. Seuss creature.

  I find myself feeling faint, especially today because I am so close to you. After that Branch man* caused his disturbance, I felt all of the blood drain from my face and I felt myself faint for just a second. They are pulling out your dental casts now.

  I wonder if this exhausts you—it must, it exhausts me. It must be 100 times worse for you.

  I am with you eternally,

  L.

  November 2, 1998

  My Beautiful One,

  I had to borrow an envelope, because I could not stand the thought of one more day and you not getting a letter from me.

  Lorri, nothing will ever be the same again. I still cannot completely absorb the fact that we have actually touched. I have pressed my lips to your beautiful hand. It is something that must filter in slowly. I have not stopped thinking about it since that very moment. Does it not seem like a miracle to you? We have touched. And it was the most natural thing I have ever felt. That was the touch I was created to feel. Experiencing that touch is the reason I exist. And now I miss you a billion times more than I ever have before. I must be with you soon, or the strain will rip me apart. My need for you is so great.

  Yes, Love, I want to be married to you now. I want it so badly. I want you to be my wife. It’s just one more step in our process, but it’s a wonderful and magickal step. The only thing that makes me sad is the fact that I cannot get you a wedding ring. Thinking of it hurts me, because you have to have one. I want to be married to you, my beautiful creature. As soon as possible. It’s exciting just to think about.

  *

  Before you found me, I was planning on going back to the hospital when I was released from here. And I would have probably stayed there forever. You are all that I want, need, and desire. My love.

  Your loving husband,

  D.

  November 12, 1998

  My Love,

  I am now watching this show on Frank Lloyd Wright. It has done something to me. It has given me a better understanding of what you do and why you are so proud of it. And I am immensely proud of you. But I’m also very jealous. I’m jealous because you are so proud of your work, and because it means so much to you. It hurts me a little (a lot right now) and I am jealous because I don’t want you to be proud of or care about anything but me.

  Even tonight, when you spoke of the map you are drawing for that book. Of course I am proud of that, knowing that your work was published in a book, that many, many people will see it. But I am also jealous, because I want no one else to ever look at anything you touch. I am proud of you. More so than you know.

  I am yours for eternity,

  D.

  November 24, 1998

  My loved one,

  I got the phone bill . . . $558.00—a little better! I think we should strive for $400.00 or $350—then we can get married faster! I think we can do it—don’t you??

  Forever yours,

  L.

  November 30, 1998

  My dearest,

  I’m going to see an apartment tomorrow in the “good” neighborhood. It’s a little more expensive than mine now. That hurts a bit. Well, I’ll see what happens. The more I think, the more I want to stay put—but you never know what may come along when you least expect it, Mr. Man.

  I love you forever,

  L.

  March 22, 1999

  My beautiful one,

  My father called—my parents are coming on Thursday! They are staying the weekend. By the time they leave they will know all about you. I find the more people that know, the better it is. As a matter of fact, I love it.

  After we are married, I am going to become a lot more adamant about being kept apprised of anything that concerns you. I really will be a Yoko Ono. I am also going to post a message on that email list thanking people on your behalf for coming out to support you—is that OK?

  And I love the fact that I “marked” you—but you marked me, too.

  Mara says she wants to have dinner with my parents so she can help explain everything about your case—and so they won’t think I’ve gone insane or something—no reflection on you, my darling—it’s the circumstances.

  Forever yours, your betrothed,

  L.

  postscript, 2014

  I didn’t even tell my family about my relationship with Damien until 1999, a few months before we were married. By that time, the case was becoming known in the media with the help of Paradise Lost, and I had begun to take a lead in the formation of a legal strategy for the case. Before I told my family, I felt I wanted to have a plan, I wanted to have my life appear to be worked out, as if I were building a career and making sound decisions. Even though I felt I was moving ahead instinctually, and I was living the life I wanted to live, with no questions, I didn’t realize it wouldn’t ever look like that to anyone else. At least not at that point. Most people came around later.

  I’ll never forget the day I told my parents about Damien. My father’s face looked as if it had folded in on itself. He couldn’t look at me; but looking back, I think he was more confused than anything. The shock that hit both of them, it was as if they were deer, and the hunter’s spotlight had suddenly shone in their eyes, temporarily blinding them. I didn’t know how to make it any easier for them, either. That Damien was innocent, that he didn’t belong there—none of it got through.

  Years later, Damien still in prison, as I was taking a walk with my mom, she told me how very sad she was for me, that I was alone, that I was still living alone. I’ll never know
if she understood me when I tried to explain to her that I was never alone. Having Damien in my life was like having him live inside me, that’s how close we were. However, overall my parents couldn’t have been more supportive, loving, and concerned—for both Damien and me. After their first visit with him, they considered Damien family and have never wavered.

  Of course, I couldn’t leave anything to routine when it came to Damien’s well-being, and that included the prison. I began to devise schemes for getting food to him, or treats, or simple health care items like dental floss. It all made Damien very nervous; if we were caught it would mean my visits would be suspended for a year.

  I was not daunted. At one point I tied a string that was fastened to a piece of fabric filled with fruit to the crotch of my underwear. I put on a long, very full skirt over it and practiced walking, the parcel of fruit swinging between my knees like a pendulum. I had to practice so my gait wouldn’t look weird. On Damien’s birthday, December 11, I wore a thick cable-knit sweater over a bra that contained a piece of homemade devil’s food cake in each cup.

  I tried to dress in a way that would make Damien happy. I wasn’t much of a fashion plate in my day-to-day life, but I grew to love changing into a southern Holly Golightly for my weekly visits to Tucker Max. I wore pencil skirts with four-inch heels and stockings and I’d have my hair done. I’d wear makeup as I never had before: eyeliner, polished nails. It was all very girly and fun. I’d never felt like that before, and I give Damien all the credit.