33

Day Two (continued)

The butler’s body, the butler’s pain, heavy with sedative. It’s like coming home.

I’m barely awake, and already slipping back towards sleep.

It’s getting dark. A man’s pacing back and forth across the tiny room, a shotgun in his arms.

It’s not the Plague Doctor. It’s not Gold.

He hears me stir, and turns around. He’s in shade, I can’t make him out.

I open my mouth, but no words come out of it.

I close my eyes, and slip away again.

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