The party was fine but I’m really too shy for public gatherings. Besides, while it was my seventeenth birthday, the party wasn’t really for me. It was Father’s way of ‘introducing’ us to Kingsbrook …

September 25th, 1900

It’s twelve-thirty in the morning.

Everything has fallen apart.

I don’t know if I should go to the police or not. I have to tell someone but I can’t, so I’m going to tell these pages.

I couldn’t avoid it anymore. I’ve missed two of my cycles. I kept telling myself it was stress, but I know it’s not. I’m with child.

I haven’t told Father. He continues to drink. The bill collectors keep harassing us. The pharmacy is now open by appointment only. Whenever we work, we keep the door locked and stay in the storeroom. If someone knocks, we’ll peek out through the curtain. If we think it’s a customer, we’ll let them in. If we think it’s a collector, we stay in the storeroom.

This morning, I told Father that I wasn’t feeling well and that I couldn’t work at the pharmacy. I spent the whole day sobbing in bed. Finally, I decided that I had to tell Father. I needed help. I didn’t know how he could help me, but I had to tell someone.

Towards evening, I got up, dressed, and walked into town, carrying the spare key to the pharmacy that we keep in the house.

I opened the door to the pharmacy and found that it was empty. I went to the storeroom. Father was sitting with his head on the desk, not moving. I hurried to him and found that he was passed out. There was an empty bottle and a telegram from Carol. It said that he was to stop trying to contact her and that she was never coming back. She said that she was sorry for me, but that I was his daughter, and not hers.

I had nowhere else to turn.

I took the bicycle from the alley and rode through the town, cursing Kingsbrook, the pharmacy, Carol, Father, and Thomas.

But now, Thomas was the only one who could help me. He had to help me. I’m carrying his child.

The moon was bright and illuminated the countryside for my journey to the Nightingale House. I once again parked the bicycle by the bushes at the end of the path to the porch. I was already in tears and my hands trembled as I pulled the chain next to the front door. I heard footsteps descending the stairs.

Thomas had to have seen me from the side window because he threw open the door, quickly stepped onto the porch, and shut the door behind him.

“What do you think you are doing?”

“I had to see you.”