The maids this morning have come up with a whole new way of waking me: with a mop.
"What-" I groan, "Why?"
"Sorry miss, we weren't sure you were alive this morning. We're very glad to see you awake."
"Why?"
"Well," Her voice trails off and I notice the smell. It smells like a raw wound and my whole torso is wet. When I sit up the sheets stick to me and there's a slight tearing pain in my chest, like when a cotton bandage gets stuck in a wound.
"Oh," I breathe, "Oh my god."
"Go get lady Dimitrescu." One of the maids goes running and soon enough mother is ducking through the doorway. She takes one look at me and sighs heavily.
"Leave us."
All the maids scurry out like mice and shut the doors. Mother Dimitrescu sighs again, "Your blood smells, particularly appetizing dear. Forgive my interest."
I'm too busy panicking, realizing that for some reason the wound over my heart is oozing plasma and the sheets and covers are thick with coagulated blood which means I've been bleeding all night. The smell is overpowering and my hands shake. Sensibly I know tearing it off will hurt immensely but it's also the only reasonable thing I can think to do.
In my ever growing panic I whimper and sniffle, tears streaming down both my cheeks.
"Now now, you're alright. Look."
Using my morning glass of water mother Dimitrescu holds the weight of the wet blanket and uses it to soften the wound until the sheets come off without pain. I scramble out of bed, pulling my shirt off to look at the injury in the daylight.
Black and grey mottling stretches from my navel to the spot between my collarbones. The uneven, crooked gash is completely black. In the line is green pus and fresh trickling blood which I'm relieved to see is red, albeit a very dark shade. My entire chest is consumed by it and my hands shake violently.
"Katherine! Draw a warm bath," Mother Dimitrescu calls, draping my robe around my shoulders.
"Yes my lady!"
"Come here." I don't protest to being cradled in her arms and carried to the bathroom.
A tub of milky white water is waiting, dotted in black rose petals. It looks very inviting.
"Get in, I'm going to call for a doctor."
All morning is consumed by the terrified doctor's work. His hands shake slightly and he asks if it hurts every time he touches me. With mother Dimitrescu standing by the door watching like a hawk I'm impressed his hands only shake a little.
"That's about all I can do without surgery. Here's some antibiotic ointment. Let it sit for about an hour then apply this balm. It'll help keep the skin from drying out, crusting, and starting this up again," He tells me. I nod.
"Thank you."
"Yes, thank you doctor."
Amazingly the man stops by mother Dimitrescu on his way out, licking his lips nervously, "I'd suggest looser fitting clothes and lighter sheets if you can manage it. If it acts up again she'll wind up stuck to her clothes or whatever's on her chest."
I perk up, "Does that mean I should wear a shirt and slacks?"
"Ideally."
Mother Dimitrescu looks at me, "You are willing to go a frightfully long way to get out of wearing dresses my dear."
For the first time in what feels like half my life I'm given a loopy, frilly white shirt and black slacks. The vest keeps the oversized shirt tucked in while not pressing into my chest.
Downstairs in the lounge a woman dressed in inky black with a lacey veil and a creepy doll is waiting for us. Suddenly the doll jumps up and I remember that clicking noise. It makes my spine shiver. Before I know I've done it I'm hiding on the other side of mother Dimitrescu.
"He he he he he he he," The doll chatters.
"Angie, come here," The woman says. I recognize her voice from mother Miranda's cottage when I was trapped.
"Iulia dear this is your aunt Donna. And her companion Angie. Introduce yourself," Mother Dimitrescu says, chuckling slightly and petting my hair.
Angie cocks her head at me, "She looks like a mutt in men's clothes."
"She just needs a haircut is all. If you'd like I could do it," Donna says.
Before she can finish speaking I'm already shaking my head.
"Why not dear?"
I shift, still hiding behind mother Dimitrescu, "Because when mother Miranda had me in her lair I heard the two of you."
"I'm sorry about that. I promise, I'm not particularly fond of mother Miranda. I-I was only there because of an injury actually. You just happened to be there and," Donna's voice trails off. It chokes off really and I can see how she shifts in her seat. "I won't deny that I'm envious Alcina. She's a doll. Ugh- No pun intended."
"She's a dog!" Angie shrieks.
"Is that thing alive or controlled by a tiny mouse?" I glare at it, figuring it would be easy to snap into little pieces.
Donna suddenly hugs the doll close to her body.
"Don't touch it," Mother Dimitrescu says grimly, "Donna is a master tailor. In light of what happened this morning this is an ideal time to ask a favor."
"Clothes?"
"Shirts. Specifically they mustn't touch her chest."
Donna nods, "I remember. Let me take some measurements then."
I stand on a stool while Donna measures me from toe to clavicle. Despite all the etiquette lessons I still can't believe how many measurements need to be taken. If mother Dimitrescu's face is anything to judge by, neither can she.
"Tell us about your family."
I frown slightly, "I don't think that's safe. With all due respect, I'll pass on that one."
"I insist that you do dear. I'd like to hear what you think of me," Mother Dimitrescu says, reclined comfortably in a lounge chair.
Unsure what exactly it is the lady is wanting to hear I look her dead in the eye and hope she won't kill me in front of aunt Donna.
"You're very poised, overbearing, and overprotective. Occasionally you terrify me but other times I'm glad I'm on the good side of that terrifying power. I'm especially thankful to be with you rather than mother Miranda."
"Hmm," Mother Dimitrescu picks up her cigarette, "Either you're a terrific liar or you're telling the truth and a fool."
"You didn't raise me up until this point, it wouldn't be you who raised a fool," I say, "Aunt Donna what are you doing?"
"Measuring you for a coat. If the other girls ever come back then being outside may be the only safe place for you," Aunt Donna murmurs as she measures across my shoulders from behind and then around my neck, "Of course there is always room at my castle if you would like-"
If it wasn't obvious how possessive mother was before aunt Donna understands now as she unsheathes a single claw and pins Angie by the neck. We all come to a painful standstill.
"Be careful Alcina, I have a thread very close to her throat and it's not that hard to collapse a trachea," Donna's voice comes out in a dead tone. I swallow and slowly lift my hand until she measuring tape comes tight against my skin.
"I can put mine back together, can the same be said for your fragile excuse for a child?"
"Let me go!"
Exactly what happens I'm not sure. In a blur I'm swept off the footstool and held securely in mother's arm with her claws bared towards Donna who is holding Angie away, clutched tightly to her body.
"I thought losing your daughters might give us something to bond over, but obviously you didn't care about them nearly as much as a real mother would!"
With that Donna storms from the room, slamming doors echoing as she leaves.