In the mornings when I awoke, I always spent a few precious seconds in bed with my eyes squeezed shut. I remembered the feeling of an empty stomach, the blows of angry fists, the fear and the cold, and always, always the hunger. I held on to that until I could open my eyes and smile.

I had been traded to the Frankensteins for a few coins, and lived in fear that they, too, would sell me. By their grace I lived, and so I did all in my power to keep their love. Perhaps they would have tolerated some disobedience, but I would not risk it. Not ever.

Victor liked me, but he was the child. Madame Frankenstein hardly seemed capable of getting out of bed most days. I could not depend on her kindness to sustain me. And Judge Frankenstein had never so much as addressed me, treating my presence in their company with the same indifferent indulgence he might have had his wife taken a notion to bring in a stray dog.

I needed to be something they would love. And so when I got out of bed, I left behind anything I wanted and slipped into sweetness as softly as I slipped into my warm socks.

Victor was odd. But I had only my caretaker’s feral children to compare him to. Victor never bit me, never stole food from me, never held my head beneath the lake until I saw stars in the darkness coming to claim me. He did watch me carefully, as though testing my reactions. But I was more careful than he was, and never showed anything but the sweetest love and adoration.

It was after our first few quiet weeks in the house by the lake that I understood, finally, the fear I had seen ghosting across his mother’s and father’s faces sometimes when they looked at him.

I had been getting ready in my room and was pulling on my shoes when I heard the screaming.

My first instinct was to hide. There was a spot in my wardrobe that looked too small for a body, but I had fit myself neatly into it just to test it out. My window also opened, and I could scamper out, down the trellis, and be hidden in the trees in no time.

But that was not what people in beautiful houses did. And if I wanted to stay here, I could not fall back on my old ways.

I crept out of my room and down the hall, then padded silently down the stairs. By now I recognized Victor’s voice, though it was twisted by rage in a way I had never heard. It was coming from the library, a room where I was not allowed.

I paused outside, then pushed the door open.