Theodora reached for her hand. “I am so sorry. I should have told you sooner. I just?—”
Lady Dowell squeezed Theodora’s hand then stood abruptly.
“Thank you, my dear… I just need a moment.” Her voice sounded small and weak.
“Mother—”
“I will speak to you later,” she cut Theodora off and quickly placed a soft kiss on her head. “Please be ready for breakfast soon.”
Lady Dowell left the room without another word, leaving her daughter alone with the weight of her confession pressing down on her like a stone. Theodora had the sudden urge to run away. She wondered if Alexander kept to his word and waited for any signs of distress. A part of her was tempted to prove it, to run back outside, climb in his carriage and?—
“This is absurd!” She cussed herself.
I should be thinking about my mother. Should I go after her? Is she all right? Will she be all right?
Theodora’s mind swirled with too many unanswered questions and her heart filled with dread.
“What did I do?” she whispered into the quietness and received no response except for the echo of her own voice.
* * *
Observation, Day Seven
Stage Seven was intended to determine the long-term effects of repeated exposure to the subject. The subject returned after an absence of time. I have recorded immediate physiological irregularities upon seeing him again. Restlessness during thesubject’s absence appears to have been more severe than previously estimated. Symptoms included disrupted sleep, elevated pulse, and persistent agitation that ceased only when the subject reappeared.
The subject initiated physical contact again and I…responded again. The intensity of the response exceeded that of previous stages. It is noted that rational processing was briefly suspended. This is a significant breach of experimental neutrality.
Attempts to terminate the experiment were unsuccessful. The subject refused termination and in the act of stage seven we displayed heightened emotional engagement. I was unable to maintain distance when contact resumed. I cannot determine whether this was due to external pressure or internal failure of discipline.
The subject asked when the next meeting would occur. But since the stages have been met, there is no need for us to meet. And yet, I was unable to provide a definitive answer. This uncertainty is problematic. It suggests a loss of control over both variables and self-regulation.
My notes for Stage Seven are disorganized and lack the clarity of earlier entries. Several lines had to be rewritten due to compromised handwriting. I am experiencing difficulty maintaining objectivity when documenting the subject’s behavior, voice, or physical proximity. The subject’s influence appears to extend beyond the immediate environment, persisting even after separation.
The experiment is no longer producing measurable scientific data. The variables have become unstable. My responses to this specific subject are inconsistent with expected outcomes. Stage Seven indicates a complete collapse of observational detachment and a slow decline into hysteria.
I must discontinue the experiment entirely, but my body rejects this idea. Continued exposure to the subject may result in further deterioration of scientific judgment and ruin.
I must avoid recalling him and what took place at Hawthorne House. I must avoid recalling the carriage, his bed, his bruises, his nakedness, and the way he unraveled me with his tongue. I must avoid recalling the way he said my name.
And I must, without delay, avoid recalling our consummation.
Theodora sat at the breakfast table and tried to keep her ink-stained fingers still on her lap, but her hands wouldn’t stop trembling. Her last observation and her conversation with her mother left her feeling hollow and stretched thin, as though one wrong word might make her shatter.
She bowed her head slightly; eyes fixed on the empty plate before her. She did not pray often. She had never been particularly good at it. But now, with her heart pounding and her stomach twisted into knots, she whispered a plea so soft it barely left her lips.
“Please… help my mother. Help me. And protect us fromhiswrath.”
The breakfast room was too quiet and the only sound to be heard was the soft ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece. A painful reminder of time.
Finally, Theodora heard footsteps approaching. But to her dismay it was her father who entered the room first.
He looked as he always did in the mornings. Impeccably dressed, hair neatly combed, expression stern and unreadable. But today, something in his eyes made her spine stiffen. His eyes were sharp and suspicious.
“Theodora,” he said, taking his seat at the head of the table. “You are awake early.”
She forced a polite smile. “Yes, Father.”
He studied her. “You look tired.”
