What hope has a being whose creator desperatly wishes to destory it
That he would persure it, even to his own death
At last our final hour is neigh
We'll both obtain what we've so long desired
I'll watch you breath your last and die
Then destory myself upon our funeral pire
I cannot die
And nor can you
Our time has come
One final task remains
The game is done
Yes it's true
I've hunted you
But I've come not out of vengеnce
But of shame
I have followеd you
To seek your grace
To fall upon your mercy
And accept the blame
Damn the man who does not give
His all to help his son to live
Forgive this foolish father
I can hear my name
Blacked by my crime
Haunting me and taunting as it echoes through all time
What have I done?
How can this be?
How cruel the hand of fate
To take two souls
Too blind to see
And give them sight
Too late
Your peace has come
You'll search no more
Soon I shall follow where you go
Go to sleep, you're safe with me
May the darkness set us free
He lifted Frankenstein into his arms as if he were his child and carried him off disappearing into the ice and darkness forever
Captain Robert Walton, in a letter to his sister. November 9th, 1793