Calla's gone and done it again! Stupid bitch, she's gotten herself into another paper. She's going to get herself found out, one day, and then it'll be death for the lot of us, all because of that bitch. Lord, the things that paper prints about everyone...Calla's got it worst, and then I suppose I would..one would think she's determined to end up dead, at this rate that she's going.
Today, it was for the murder of one of the mayor's closest confidants. God knows how she did it, hell, the man deserved it, but she's got herself in the papers, and they are one step closer to finding out who Widow truly is. If she isn't careful, she'll have us all in Sing-Sing before the month's out! More calling cards, always more calling cards is what she leaves. She started with a lipstick mark, and now it's at a lipstick mark and a smiling face in blood. One day, they'll find her, and it certainly won't be me they'll be finding, either. People are gonna start realizing there's no town harlot by the name of Widow, and that Irene Kelly's hands aren't as clean as her white gloves lead people to be.
She visited me today. She's going to get us all killed, I swear, with her and her conspicuousness. If she isn't careful, one day someone's going to follow her, and they'll all have our heads. Jackson is worried about her, to no surprise. He's always been her favourite out of all of us, which doesn't surprise anyone. She's always had a soft spot for people like him, her own personality shining through when she's with him. She's guarded around me, which surprises no one. Irene Calla isn't someone who shows emotions, not like Jackson and I. Her and Jonathan barely speak, she's told me about him...he is nothing like Jackson. He quite honestly reminds me of a fairy tale villain, like the ones my parents used to tell me about at night to scare me. Does this make Irene the damsel in distress, the princess in need of rescuing? I have no idea.
Jackson is quieter now. I don't know why, don't know how, but he's quieter. We both knew this was never for romance, but more for the policital aspect of it..it was arranged, never one of our own choice. He's got an interest in men, I believe and I..well, my interests remain unknown to everyone, including myself. Irene may have her own odd interests, and I might as well, but we will never fall into the same category. She has eyes for the Pinkerton girl, the one who killed her parents. A funny joke, ain't it? Irene Calla, in love with a girl. Jackson Baker, in love with a man. Me, in love with..well, no one. I don't think love is a thing I experience, I suppose. People experience love, humans need love to function. But..I guess I don't. Maybe it isn't necessary, not for me. It's necessary for normal people, but..I guess I'm just not normal, in that way. Normal isn't something I have ever, or will ever, be good at.
Love is unnecessary. That Pinkerton girl, the one that tracked Irene, damn near broke her heart. Irene cried to me for days about her, weeks and days on end of her sobbing and crying to me, downing whiskey straight from the bottle.
Love...love is a mystery I could never solve.
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