Page 19 of A Most Abhorrent Vessel

I’m relieved, having feared the worst. Looking for another potion to try, I turn the book’s page—

No. It can’t be.

What little muscle remained covering my phalangeal bones fogs and thins. Nausea grips me, then an icy wave. Sweat appears on my skin, evaporating instantly.

I feel it.

It grows.

It grows.

No. Please, stop.

But it does not listen. It only wants. It only takes.

I hold onto my limbs as if that would stop them from disappearing. But still they vanish.

A loud knock on wood. I jump.

“Sir Balfour, your dinner is served,” Godfrey says through the closed door.

I feel my arms, but cannot see them. Another knock. My pulse accelerates.

“Leave me,” I mumble, holding my hands up. There is nothing. Not even a disturbance of the light.

“Sir, I was told to convey the message that it is your favourite,” he says, louder this time.

“Leave,” I press out.

My breath is too tight. My vision blurs. I open the window, but it doesn’t help.

“Should I bring tea here, sir?”

“Bloody hell, do as you’re told,” I shout.

I hear a quiet gasp followed by the clicking of heels. Shutting the window carelessly, I rush to the bathroom.

In the mirror, a shirt collar wrapped around thin air approaches. Above it is my soiled lab coat. Broad-shouldered, it floats in the middle of the room. I shrug. I turn. Everything moves as I move.

No.

This isn’t real.

I slide my fingers over the mirror. Faint streaks appear on its surface. But no hands are discernible in this room.

The cloth moves, yet my body is not there.

My heart beats. My lungs breathe. But it’s not right.

Too fast. Too hard.

I grip my chest.

If I feel myself, I must exist. Yet my body does not obey me.

It’s all wrong. Too hot, yet too cold.

I slide to the floor. The room spins. I must persist.