486

I remain.

Angelique, I suspect, quite aptly induced an heart attack in Doctor Lang, halting the experiment at a particularly excruciating point.  The Roman’s had a death called the “Death of a Thousand Cuts,” wherein soldiers would each take the smallest dagger and make the tiniest of incisions.  Alone, each would be nothing.  Collectively?  The meaning is clear.  I’ve never suffered that, but would gladly trade it, given that I experienced the described sensation within my flesh, in two bodies, at once.

But it is a cure and an escape!  The elixirs made for me have less and less potency.  I will revert to the beast at any moment.  With the loss of Doctor Lang, Julia has agreed to soldier on, and I am with her.

The past few weeks of humanity have shown me a world of such simplicity that I can never allow myself to return.

I love Josette.  I always shall.  And I shall continue to seek her out.  However, I wonder if my driving need for her was a revolt against the beast?  If she and Sarah were the two last times I felt loved and lovable, and so the beast drove me to find and recreate those loves with a total myopia for the passions and autonomy of others.

Is this the truth of Angelique’s curse, that all those I love would die?  Is it because I would hold them so tightly they could no longer breathe?  It happened (figuratively) with Miss Evans.  It almost happened with Miss Winters.  If so, then good! 

In that telling, the perpetuation of the curse is byway of my own choice.  If I only love them differently, on mutual terms, perhaps that curse may be broken.

I reserve strong doubts, but it would delight me were that true.

BC

 

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