Wife of Vladimir ||Book One||

Her Fearlessness

"I couldn't understand the emotion that filled me upon reading those words. I swallowed as I realized I had opened Pandora's box and now I was about to see the truth. Images of the jewel being thrown by my hand flickered through my head as I tried to make sense of what Rosetta was talking about. The possible horrors of what was going on within my home wasn't something I was fond of knowing.

There were only two living Dracula family members, three within the last few years; Rosetta, myself, and my now deceased father. I was quick to throw away the hope that my father had somehow survived and the servants had lied when they said he passed. I briefly wondered if Rosetta was merely growing crazy, but there were no other signs of insanity. It was dismissed as fast as I had dismissed the idea of my father still being alive. I hesitated before throwing it out completely, knowing that between the two options my father returning from the grave was terrifying. If it was between the two, I leaned towards Rosetta needing medical help.

My eyes lingered on the single paragraph. Even rereading the first few sentences over and over caused my eyes to ache, but I would need to push through. This would be something I needed to finish. While unsure of exactly what I wanted to come from this, I knew what needed to be done. Though, I wondered if I dared read any further. Rosetta hadn't told me anything about this mysterious third person, supposedly a Dracula. The realization sank my spirits.

Why hadn't Rosetta told me about this? Even looking at her writing, I could see the slightest quiver. She had obviously been afraid, so why hadn't she said anything? I was her husband. She was supposed to tell me everything, just as I was supposed to tell her everything. That was how marriages worked. I sighed to myself, recalling how I had failed to tell Rosetta about all the new struggles I was having or how bad my pain really was. We were on even ground. Besides, if she had written it down in her diary without telling me there was probably a good reason. Rosetta wasn't dumb. There was always a reason for something.

No matter how much I tried to deny it, I knew my curiosity wouldn't settle until I had figured out what she had meant by another Dracula being with us. Not only that, but I had a feeling that Rosetta wouldn't be the one to tell me. I would need to read it on my own. Holding my breath, I flipped several pages back until I found the previous entry to the one I had read by accident. It was only a week and a half before the current date.

Dear Diary,

Something odd is happening. I walk the halls at night, for I fall asleep far too often in the library here, and I can swear something is watching me. It's too much of an eerie feeling. I look over my shoulder constantly, but there's never anyone there. My least favorite part of my journey back to the room is through the hallway of paintings. All the past Dracula's proudly posed with eyes positioned towards onlookers of the hallways before them are beginning to terrify me. They are all dressed in their best and each has a golden nameplate at the bottom of their portraits upon their frame that shows their name, year of birth, and year of death.

Vladimir's father's portrait is the most recent, and I must say, he looks like a very lovely man. I wish I would have met him in person and would have been able to thank him for pushing my father to say yes. I wished I could have imagined how he had reacted when he first read my letter, or what he had said to my father to convince him to agree to the arranged marriage. Perhaps, he is the one I feel watching me. Maybe he wishes to seek me out along with any true intentions I might have towards his son, to make sure that I hadn't been lying when I spoke of my father's abuse. I hope that is the case, as it will be soon enough I will be able to prove my innocence. I absolutely adore his son, my husband. I am reminded daily of how blessed he is and how lucky I am to call myself his wife. He and I were truly meant to be, despite how our marriage was agreed upon.