12:04p.m., October 31st, 1904, Bedlem Asylum

Ethel jumped out of her seat only to be pushed back into it by the burly orderly. She rubbed her hands together and tears burned her red eyes. "I'm not lying! Monsters are real!"

Dr Samuel Wallace—the man who never believed her—knotted his hands on his desk and sighed. "We have been over this, Miss Church. Monsters are merely a part of your overactive imagination."

She shook her head from side to side. "You'll never understand. You'll never believe me!"

"Then walk me through it. I am only trying to help," he assured her.

Looking down at her quivering hands, Ethel nibbled on her cracked lower lip. She didn't want to remember the horrors of that night, but they never stopped. They haunted her, followed her into her dreamland. What if the monsters got to her here? They must have noticed her escape. He certainly noticed her getting away that night...

*****

October 1st, 1904, London

Crisp evening air climbed in through the gaps in Ethel's tattered coat and skirt. She huddled closer to her brother and sister for warmth, wrinkling her nose. No matter where in London they moved to, an overpowering stench of the Thames could be identified anywhere. That alone was not what put her off the city's revolting aroma. Rich men polluted the streets with their automobiles. They never cared for the poor, always looking down on them—on her kind. It was as if they weren't people at all.

Droplets of rain started to fall from the sky, and Ethel closed her eyes. She brought her siblings closer with her arms. Their mother hadn't returned since she left two days ago to find them some food. The emptiness in Ethel's stomach had become a constant, as did the chill from the cobblestone they sat on. She didn't complain. She couldn't because she was the eldest.

"When is Mum coming back?" Joshua asked, peeking up at her.

Ethel pursed her lips. What could she tell her seven-year-old brother? It wasn't like her to be gone this long. Their mother always returned on the same day. But, the tightness in Ethel's heart did not go away. If something happened to her, she was to take charge and take care of the others.

"I don't know," Ethel finally replied.

Her sister, Mary, studied her with gem-like green eyes. Her freckled cheeks were coated with dirt and her dark curls glistened with the water droplets that landed on her head. "You think somethin' happened to her?"

"No!" Ethel said, rubbing their shoulders. "Of course not."

"You're lying," Mary snapped, shuffling away. "You think something did happen!"

Joshua sighed. "Of course, somethin' happened. She's never left us this long, not since we were tossed out onto the streets."

"I know where your mother is." The low voice that came from a shadowed stranger stilled Ethel's heart.

Her head whipped around to see the man in question—a gentleman for certain. He wore a long overcoat and a top hat that protected his wheat-coloured hair from the assault of the rain.

The man offered his hand to Ethel. "Come with me and I will show you where she is."

As if entranced by his fascinating sapphire eyes, she reached for his gloved hand. Before she could touch him, alarm bells rang in her head, and she shook her head. She jerked her hand, pressing it to her chest. "It would not be appropriate for me to go with you, sir. I do not even know your name..."

The stranger took his hat off and bowed at the middle. From up close, he was a beautiful man. His features were chiselled to perfection by God. Men like him did not casually stroll through the streets at night without an accompaniment. So, where was his footman?

"I am William Courtenay, Earl of Devon," he said, meeting her dissecting stare.

Upon hearing his title, Ethel shot up and gave a curtsy. She stared at the ground to hide her embarrassment. "Sir, I am truly sorry for my earlier rudeness."

"Will you come with me now?"

She raised her head at the warm tone he used and studied him. A pleasant smile stretched his full lips. And those ocean-blue eyes held her captive once more.

"Ethel, do you believe it to be wise?" Mary tugged on her sleeve, pulling Ethel out of her dream-like state.

Ethel nodded. "It would be alright. I will return with Mother. Until then—"

William cut her off. "There is no need for separation. All of you are welcome to come along. You mother collapsed not far from my estate, and I had my servants take care of her since. She spoke of her children, so here I am. I wish to reunite that what was once broken."

A smile curved Ethel's lips. This kind man had the heart of gold. She bowed her head and thanked him profusely.

William tapped her shoulder and nestled his hat back on top of his head. "There is no need to thank me. I did what must be done, nothing more."

Ethel nodded and took hold of her siblings' hands. "Let us go with the earl. He will bring us to our mother."

Squeezing Ethel's hand, Joshua pulled her in to whisper into her ear. "I do not trust him. He seems too nice. I heard there were plenty young girls who went missing over the years in this part of London—"

Ethel rolled her eyes. "Don't be daft, Joshua. A nobleman would not bother wasting his time kidnapping people on the street. You've been spending too much time with the dock workers again."

He said nothing to rebuke her retort, and Ethel followed the gentleman to his ebony automobile at the end of the alleyway. Mr Courtenay opened the backseat door and waited for them to climb inside before he closed it. He got into the passenger seat and told the driver to get going while Ethel patted her siblings' hands. Her bad feeling had been for nought. Their mother was well and lucky enough to fall ill before such a kind-hearted man. Perhaps, when the time was right, she could inquire about working for him as a scullery or a kitchen maid.

The streets of London soon merged into the country roads. Mary and Joshua had long since fallen asleep, but she could not rest. A frown creased her dark brow. She shifted in her seat. Her mother couldn't have possibly walked such a distance by herself to find food or shelter.

"Excuse me, Mr Courtenay..."

He turned in his seat, meeting her perplexed expression with a smile. "Yes? And please, call me William."

"William then, where are we going? I thought your home would have been in London."

"Ah." His smile faltered a fraction. "I have moved your mother to my country estate for a better rest. Why, are you worried?"

"No, sir. Nothing of the sort."

"Good. Get some rest as the journey is a little long."

Even with his calming words, she could not shake the lump forming in her stomach. She settled back into her seat, gathering her siblings closer to her. If this was a mistake, she had to speak up now and ask William to let them go. But, if he spoke the truth, she would not only be seen as a rude pauper in his eyes, there would be no way for her to visit her mother or ask for work.

"Are you married, Mr Courtenay?" she asked, desperate to break the constant hum of the engine.

He didn't look at her when he replied, "No, I am a widower."

"My apologies, it was uncourteous of me to ask such a private question."

William chuckled. "And you?" He studied her with silent intensity. "Have you ever been with a man?"

Her jaw dropped. "I beg your pardon!"

"You have lived on the street a while, it seems. So, there is a possibility—"

"That I have turned into a whore?" Her nostrils flared and her cheeks turned red. "I would never!"

William inclined his head in apology. "I am sorry if I have offended you, truly."

Puffing an almost silent cuss under her breath, she sealed her lips and stared out the window at the darkness beyond.

*****

Mr Courtenay led them into a brightly lit manor with shiny maple flooring and picturesque paintings of scenery framed in gold. Servants bustled around the place, carrying small metal chests out of what she assumed was the dining room. None of the servants said a word or even acknowledged that she and her siblings were present.

"When can we see our mother?" Ethel asked.

William stopped. He nodded to his footman who had followed them from the car. A second later, the bald man grabbed her sister, pulling her away from Ethel and Joshua.

Mary cried out, and Joshua ran to her side. A flick of the man's wrist was enough to send him sailing through the air. Joshua hit the wall hard, and his body sagged as it fell on the ground. Ethel tried running to him, but a strong arm wound around her waist and another trapped her words in her throat when it clamped around her mouth.

"Get the girl ready for dinner. I will deal with this one." William's cold breath brushed her face.

Tears ran down Mary's cheeks as the footman dragged her away. Her cries for help continued and not one passing soul cared.

Ethel's heart ached and her stomach knotted with worry for her brother. As she was pulled away, her worn-out heels scraped at the flooring. Her eyes remained fixed on her brother. He hadn't moved. His chest didn't expand or fall with a breath either...

*****

8:24p.m., October 31st, 1904, Bedlem Asylum

"Strap her in," Dr Wallace shouted. "And get some sedatives!"

Ethel felt a prick in her arm where the needle punctured her skin. She kept fighting her way out of the strong arms of the orderlies, yet nothing worked. Their hold intensified, pinning her to the bed.

"Let me go! You're all monsters, just like them!" she screamed.

Once her limbs were secured with leather restraints, Dr Wallace blew out a breath. "You know that's not true. We are here to help. If you cannot accept our help, we will have no choice but to use different means to keep you calm."

She spat into his face and felt the drug taking effect on her along with a sting of his slap. Soon, the room melted away and her body relaxed, pushing her back into the nightmare she could never escape from.

*****

October 1st, 1904, Mr Courtenay's Country Estate

Washed and dressed in a fashionable cream gown she did not own, Ethel assaulted the door with her bleeding fists. "Joshua! Mary!"

Her agonised cries for her family were either unheard or ignored. She wiped away at the rivers of tears that wet her pale cheeks and hit her forehead against the solid oak barrier. She hadn't made a dent it in while it had bruised and skinned her knuckles.

In the room she was in—'the waiting room' as William called it—there were no windows, no furniture, and nothing that told her the time of day. Her energy had depleted faster than she wanted it to. Having spent two days hungry on the streets, she was weak, but her desire to see her family did not dissipate.

She slid to the ground and hugged her knees close to her chest. This had to be some kind of dream. These terrible happenings were an illusion. Any moment now she would awaken next to Mary and tell Joshua off for picking his nose or for biting his filthy nails.

But, the night terror did not end. The door unlocked, and William entered the room with another false smile gracing his statuesque features she had grown to despise.

"Where are they?" she screamed at him and stood up, balancing on her cotton-like legs.

William raked his eyes over her trembling form. "I would be more concerned about what will happen to you, young lady."

"Is my brother... Is he—"

"Dead, yes. My guests do not enjoy drinking from a male."

Her heart stilled for a beat. "You're a-a fiend most foul or the Devil."

"Music to my ears, dear Ethel."

She took a wary step back. "How do you know my name?"

"Your sister kept crying out for you during the first course. As you are the most beautiful of the two, it is your turn to be the dessert."

Before she could blink, he was in front of her, capturing her upper arm in an unrelenting prison of his chilled fingers. He dragged her out of the room and down the corridor. They had passed multiple rooms before he opened the door for her and pushed her inside.

Her eyes bulged out of their sockets when she took in the sight in front of her. Mary, dressed in a similar white gown lay on the dining table between twisted brass candle holders that dripped wax onto the embroidered snowy tablecloth. Her arms and legs were exposed and bitten in multiple places. Blood trickled down her milky thighs and neck and two glassy eyes stared into space.

Ethel collapsed where she stood. She shook her head, wishing for the nightmare to cease and the memory of her vision to be wiped from her mind. Her wish did not come true. Instead, William lifted her and pushed her towards the table.

The people gathered there—no, the devils—observed her with interest as if she was nothing more than livestock. Their beautiful faces and tailored attire did not hide the unsettling hunger reflected in their eyes.

William seated her on the table's edge. "This is Ethel, everyone. She is your dessert this fine evening."

The guests bobbed their heads in agreement. One of them, who stood at the far wall, did not say or move. He simply folded his arms over his broad chest and caught her attention with a ghost of a smirk.

A dozen or so guests rose from their seats to take a better look at her. They poked and prodded her arms, sides, face. A woman with a slightly crooked nose groped her chest in the most inappropriate way.

Words failed Ethel. She could not move or fight these demons. Her inside quivered more than her exterior displayed. She was pushed down onto the table, next to her sister, and she felt her dress being rolled up her legs.

Closing her eyes, she clutched her sister's chilled hand. This nightmare would soon cease, and she would see everyone in heaven because this certainly had to be Hell. Her mother's face came into her mind's view. They had been forced out onto the streets by the house steward before they could prove their innocence of the theft, yet her mother never gave up on living. She fought to stay alive and looked after them despite their situation.

Someone's hand ran up her thigh, making her eyes flutter open. She couldn't let them get to her. Her knee jerked upwards, hitting someone in the face, and her hand caught the candle holder above her head. She threw it at the nearest man, and his clothes caught on fire.

The guests jumped out of their seats. She didn't have time to think. Ethel grabbed the second candle holder, tossing one of the candles at the drapes and the others around her. Some of them were quickly put out. Luckily, the curtains caught fire before William could get to them.

The earl's upper lip curled over his sharp teeth when he faced her and ordered the others to leave the room.

Ethel hopped off the table. If only she could get away in the middle of the commotion... But, it was too late. William had captured her by the throat and pinned her to the table's surface.

Air could no longer enter her burning lungs. She clawed at his hand, and he squeezed harder.

When the room was clear of spectators, or so she thought, William's eyes widened a fraction in surprise, and he released her. He stumbled away and fell with a knife sticking out of his back.

Coughing, she sat up and covered her mouth with her hands to stifle her scream. The man standing over William was the same stranger who had not participated in the examination of her body earlier. She clambered off the table, gliding away from him and his intense grey gaze, which was almost hidden under his long coal-black hair.

"What is your name?" he asked her, seemingly unaffected by the fact he had just committed murder.

She didn't know why she had answered him either. "E-Ethel, sir."

"Run, Ethel. Run before I catch you," he warned, edging closer.

She obeyed. Her legs carried her faster than her lungs could process air. She sped down the corridors, avoiding the commotion and the voices that plagued certain rooms. She ran into the kitchen and rushed out the back door. Her bare feet met with the wet grass, and she kept going until she had collapsed on the side of the road as the dawn broke through the foggy horizon.

*****

6:45p.m., November 2nd, 1904, Bedlem Asylum

"There is no other way," Dr Wallace said with a grim expression, leaning forwards in his seat. "Nothing other than lobotomy will fix you up, Miss Church."

She frowned, having no idea what he was talking about. "Will it take away the night terrors, doctor?"

"Yes, you will once again be at peace."

Ethel sat up on her bed. She was still strapped in with the restraints. A release was all she wanted. If he was willing to provide that for her, she would gladly accept any treatment.

"Good. I wish to forget..." she whispered.

The doctor called in the orderlies who undid her restraints and wheeled to one of the tiled operating rooms in the basement. The wheelchair she was in squeaked as the dodgy wheel turned, making her recall the other patients in the common room. Some of them would stare at the walls, drooling and incapable of producing a single thought. Others complained of pains in bruised places she had dismissed till now. Would she become like them, too?

But, her troubles would be gone. She would be able to rest.

The orderlies lifted her up and strapped her to a wooden chair. Her wrists and ankles were bound in place with more restraints that pinched her sore skin. In the corner of the room, Dr Wallace selected a barber's blade and ran it along a leather belt. Up and down the blade went, reflecting the yellow light from the lamps.

She swallowed upon seeing the hidden excitement in his twinkling eyes. Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea. "Doctor, I have changed my mind..."

"Now, Miss Church, there is no need to panic. We will take good care of you, and you will be back to normal after this quick procedure."

His words sent a shudder through her system. She thrashed in the chair. Her skin under the restraints burned. She ignored the pain and yelled, "Let me out of here!"

"Get a sedative, Peter," Dr Wallace snapped to one of the orderlies.

The man rushed to the cupboard by the far wall and started searching it. Her heart thudded in her head, and she continued to scream like a true lunatic fit for Bedlem. When the familiar needle pricked her in the arm again, she spat out curses at everyone present.

Her vision blurred, and the door burst open. The man from the manor purposefully strode inside. He snapped the necks of the orderlies faster than her brain could comprehend, or perhaps it was because the drug was dulling her senses. The doctor was about to shout for help and fell like a lifeless corpse a second later with his throat ripped out.

The handsome stranger, whose face was splattered with blood, bent down to her level and cupped her face. "I have finally caught you, Ethel. Today, you will become a monster like me."

Cries for help fled her lips as he smirked and savagely bit into her neck.