I believe I truly was in shock. I couldn’t conceive that he would do something to his daughter, but then I remembered that grip and those eyes, him throwing me to the ground, and running after her. That scream.

On the walk home, I did finally vomit into some bushes. Luckily, no one saw me. As the house came into view, I had a horrible thought—will Thomas come after me? If he was horrid enough to hurt his daughter, is there anything that would stop him? I worked myself into such a state that I raced inside, locked the door, and drew the curtains. I spent the rest of the day peeking out into the street until Father came home.

I skipped dinner and went to bed early. I’ve been in this room, worrying, and writing this entry ever since.

I still can’t believe it. I know he’s a monster, but his own daughter? She has to be alive. She has to. He’s not capable of that …

But I still keep going to the window and checking the street.

September 30th, 1900

I’m alone in my room, trying to get the blood off my shirt.

I need to calm down. I need to think.

Yesterday evening, Father arrived home and asked if he could have a word with me. I feared it was more bad news about the pharmacy, but it was worse.

He showed me a telegram that had been delivered to the pharmacy.

It was from Thomas.

He claimed that he wanted to settle his account and would only deal with me. Father said he had gone to the Nightingale House himself, but Mr. Carrington refused to speak to him. He would only speak to me.

“I don’t know why he insisted, but I need you to close the account.” Father then grew very grave. “We need every cent, Rebecca. I’ve made a decision; we have to close the pharmacy. I’m going to have a fire-sale to get whatever we can for our inventory. Then, we’ll close up the pharmacy and move on. We’ll start over somewhere else.”

The situation was plain; we were running away from the collectors.

It was too much and I began to cry. Father tried to console me, promising that it would all be all right. I couldn’t tell him the truth.

All last night, I couldn’t sleep. Somehow, I knew it was inevitable. I was going to have to confront him. I’m carrying his child.