Page 73 of Lucy Undying

I want to claw out my veins, find their ends, and tug them free like a poisonous weed’s roots.

I can’t account for the last few days. I would wake at strange times, free at last from my limbo of nightmares. But the nightmare followed me into the waking world. I was always wearing a different nightdress than before, knowing I hadn’t put myself in bed. And one or more of the men were constantly here, watching me, so I had to pretend not to be terrified of what had happened while I was unconscious.

Today I woke not to the deep lethargy and listlessness I feel after a visit from my monster, but to violent illness all through my body. My organs themselves are rebelling against me. Everything hurts, everything is wrong, I can scarcely stand or breathe or think.

“Please,” I begged Quincey when he sat with me while the others were conferring outside. “Please, tell me what happened. What is different? What changed?”

He looked torn, but then his face softened. “Swear you won’t tell,” he said. All performance was gone. No more nonsense sayings, no more exaggerated accent. Just the simple words of a simple man. “We’ve been putting blood in your veins. John—Doctor Seward—said you didn’t have enough, though no one will tell me why, or where all your blood has gone.”

“Whose blood?” I croaked through my tortured throat.

“Our own. Mine. Doctor Seward’s. Arthur’s.”

I turned away so he wouldn’t see my horror. They didn’t ask me, they didn’t tell me. They drugged me—made me sleep, when sleeping was the problem! And then they punctured me just like the monster did. Putting blood in instead of taking it out, but violating me all the same.

I wish the monster would come right now and take their blood! I feel dirty, corrupted. Doctor Seward must have loved seeing a blush in my cheeks and knowing he was responsible for it for once. And Arthur—how could he, without asking? Without telling?

I tried to hide my reaction from Quincey, but he could tell I was upset.

“We meant well,” he said. “We’re just trying to get you better. So you can marry Arthur.”

So I can marry Arthur? Why not so I can be alive?

“I understand,” I said, trying to reassure him even though I was the one lying in bed with my entire body burning from the inside out.

This blood crawling through my veins is wrong. I don’t know how else to explain it. I have to get them away from me so I can open my window and pray my monster hasn’t tired of me yet. Pray he will remove this blood so my suffering will end.

I want someone to hold me. To pet my hair and tell me it will be all right.

I wish Mina were here. I haven’t seen her since the train station. I know I shouldn’t wish her here, that she wouldn’t be safe if she were, but I want—I want to see her. I don’t have many days left in this life. I want them to be with her.

I broke down and wrote her again during one of my lucid days this week, asking her to come. I’m not proud of it. It puts her in danger, and I should know better. I’m selfish and weak.

Last night in my fevered dreams I thought I heard her. I tried to open my eyes and reach out for her, but I couldn’t. It had to be a dream, though, because in the dream she was arguing with Arthur. When I asked my maids about it in the morning, they laughed and insisted no one had been to visit me in the middle of the night.

If only that were true.

Mother is furious. Not with me, for once, but for me. This morning I heard her tell Doctor Seward that the wedding would be postponed indefinitely, and that she was bringing the solicitors back to change the will. That it was time she took care of me. Could it be true?

I cannot write any more. I’m burning and freezing. My throat feels as though his teeth are in it even now, and my own teeth, oh, they ache. But it’s nothing to how I feel inside, this sickness roiling in me. This is worse than anything he has done to me. I think I am dying. I need to open the window, I need

September 19

Not much time even less strength

Mother is dead

Someone drugged the maids I recognize the smell because it is how Mother smells when she is ill

Mother’s papers are gone but the silver is all still here

I checked the doors and windows they are all locked so how did someone get in and why

My monster does not need doors but he also does not need to drug maids or my mother it makes no sense and he has not been here I am certain of it because my heart still beats with the blood that does not belong to me

Mother is dead she is finally dead and I am so sad why now when she has at last decided to be my mother instead of my burden my jailor my captor

Who will protect me now

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