𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐩𝐞 𝐍𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐦

Act III, Scene II

"No man chooses evil because it is evil; he only mistakes it for happiness, the good he seeks."
~ Mary Shelley

__________

Lucy sat, silent and still, on the floor beside Dr. Reed. In his face, she could see a squall of pain and resolve. Was this it? Was this the moment his stubborn silence would break, and he would give testimony of his past?

She knew she must breach the topic with care. Wiping all remaining remnants of tears from her face, she cleared her throat, and spoke in what she hoped was a cautious and understanding voice.

"In the morgue, you said that you didn't want to think about your wife," she reminded him. "That you didn't want to remember what had happened to her. Are you willing to tell me now?"

"I'll do you one better," he said.

With the sharp tip of his eye tooth, Dr. Reed opened a small seam on the skin of his wrist. Enough blood seeped from the hairline cut to create a vermilion line across his pale skin.

"I'll show you."

He offered his wrist to Lucy.

Lucy eyed the thin seam of blood, conflicted. "Dr. Reed, are you certain—?"

"Yes," he said, cutting her off. "What I have been passing off as self-preservation is, in all actuality, cowardice. The anguish you endured tonight made that clear to me. It is time I revisited those memories. And it is time you know the truth. Please, permit me."

Curiosity regarding the tale of Dr. Reed's late wife trumping her own grief, Lucy took hold of his wrist with gentle hands. Closing her eyes, she put her lips to the modest wound, tasting his blood.

She had the sudden and jolting sensation of the floor dropping out from under her, and she released her hold on his wrist with a gasp.

• • • • •

Lucy opened her eyes. She found herself standing in an unfamiliar, small, but cozy bedroom. There was a chest of drawers, a bookcase, and a wardrobe — all of simple yet sturdy design. Curtains covered the windows, which were shut against the cold.

She looked to her left, and was startled to find Dr. Reed sitting next to her in an austere wooden chair. His hair was shorter, and wet from a recent washing. He had no beard. He looked like a boy. In his hands was a newspaper, and he read it with a frown of unease on his face. Lucy glanced over his shoulder and saw the front page article was entitled: Fever Takes London. The date printed on the paper was February 21st, 1887.

Over twelve years ago.

What was happening?

She was right beside Dr. Reed, yet he did not acknowledge her.

She opened her mouth to say his name, but no sound came forth.

She touched his shoulder, but her hand passed right through him.

It was then that she realized: she was inside his memory. All of this had already happened, and she had not been there. She could observe, but not interfere.

The younger Dr. Reed sighed, his brow furrowed. A storm of disquiet emitted from him. He was concerned for London. He worried over how far the sickness would spread, and how long the epidemic would last.

His stomach clenched at the thought of how many souls would suffer and die.

Lucy was able to feel every sensation Dr. Reed was feeling. It made sense, as this was his memory, that she would experience it as he had lived it. It was his blood that had brought her here. But for all intents and purposes, she was a ghost.