Chapter 4

January 19th, 1876

Houndsditch Home, Whitechapel, England

1:32 A.M.

You know, if I could spend the rest of my life right here, in this moment, I would be perfectly content.

Victor pressed himself a little closer against Alice as their lips met again, full of warmth and passion. In all his boyhood daydreams, he'd never truly appreciated just how wonderful kissing could be. He'd guessed that it would be fun, of course – the other boys, the one who actually attracted girls, certainly seemed to think so. And he'd fantasized about it plenty, wondering what it would feel like, how it would taste, whether or not any girl would ever like him enough to try it. But it had always been just one of those "expected" things about relationships – something married couples could do without everyone looking down upon them. Another check mark on the list of "being a proper adult."

The reality of it, though. . .he pulled back slightly, taking in Alice's flushed cheeks and swollen lips, pink with delight and desire. Their breath mingled, hot and needy, as her hands caressed the back of his neck. He smiled and dove back in, crushing his mouth against hers, their tongues brushing. No married couple in Burtonsville kissed like this – but he didn't care. They didn't know what they were missing. He could seriously stay here forever, relishing the smell of her hair, the taste of her lips, the touch of her hand sliding down his spine. . .over his hip. . .down to –

His eyes popped open with a gasp. What the – had she really – he jerked away and looked. Yup, there was her hand, resting between his legs, lightly cupping the bulge he'd been doing his best to ignore. Heat flooded his cheeks, a mixture of embarrassment and confusion. What on earth was she doing?

Alice took his chin and tilted his face up to meet hers again. "Something wrong?" she asked, tone all innocence but eyes glittering with playful wickedness.

"I – ah – I d-didn't realize you'd n-noticed that," he admitted, blushing all the harder.

"Hard not to once it started poking me in the leg." Alice patted the bulge. "Perhaps we ought to do something about it?"

Victor's jaw nearly hit the floor. What – she – "R-really?" he managed to get out, voice rising to a nervous squeak.

"Better than ignoring it, right?" Alice untucked her blouse and pulled it up over her head. Victor's eyes widened as, for the first time, he saw her in her chemise and corset. "I'm sure you'll appreciate the relief – my leg certainly will. It's the way things were trending anyway." She hooked her fingers into the waistband of her skirt. "Well?"

No! It's too soon! Victor's brain cried, whirling around in full panic mode. You're not married yet! You're not even officially engaged! What if someone walks in on you? What if someone overhears? You'll be kicked out into the street! Do you even know what to do? Can you trust yourself to satisfy her?

Look at her, his manhood whispered, swelling even larger. Just look at her. She's the most beautiful woman we've ever seen. She loves us. And she wants us. Over anyone else, she wants us. And we want her. Why don't we take her?

Victor swallowed. His brain was still yapping away about propriety and inexperience. . .but it was very hard to listen with all his blood rushing southwards. And the look in Alice's eyes, heavy-lidded and dark, smoldering with lust. . . . "All right," he breathed, and started undoing his jacket.

With decision made, it seemed to take no time at all before they were both naked. Alice stretched out luxuriously below him, like a cat inviting a belly rub. Victor drank in her form with his eyes. Long, slender legs. . .perky little breasts. . .dark hair fanned out across the pillow. . .and, as always, those sharp, bright eyes, looking at him with such love. Victor bit his lip as his vision grew watery. Oh God, he was such a sap. . .but he couldn't help it. The very idea that this gorgeous, vital, intelligent, all-around amazing woman wanted him. . .he reached up, wiping the wetness away.

His fingers came back black.

He froze, eyes locked on the gunk painted across his hand. It glistened in the dim light of their room, burning his skin. And now that he was paying attention, he realized the liquid streaming down his face was much too hot for tears. . .he wiped again, and again, and again, clawing at his cheeks, scrubbing at his eyes with a fist, growing more frantic with every passing second. . .but it just kept coming and coming, pouring over his fingers and gathering around his chin in a dripping, searing coat. . . .

"Victor?" Alice asked – and her voice was wrong suddenly, echoing and distorted as if she was now very far away. "Are you all right?"

He opened his mouth, intending to say no, to beg for her help, but then he looked down and the sentence became a scream instead. Alice's face was gone. All that remained was a smashed-in hole, a black void that threatened to yank him in and drown him. . .he jerked back, but that didn't help, that just gave him a better view of her body – smooth pale porcelain now, marred here and there with spiderweb cracks. . .and between her legs. . .her maidenhood had been bashed in as well, Ruin oozing from the broken edges of the gap. . .crunching miserably as her thighs spread impossibly wide. . . . "Aren't you going to defile me?"

Victor scrambled off the bed, landing on the floor with a bump. "I – I n-need a m-moment," he babbled, tripping and stumbling over himself as he backed toward the door, unable to tear his eyes away from the empty horror of what had once been his love.

"A moment? For what?" The doll turned over, presenting its arse to him. Another hole broke open, bits of china falling away as more Ruin leaked out over its curves. "Don't you want to hurt me? Poison me? Corrupt me? Destroy me?"

"I just need a moment!" His hand found the doorknob, and Victor fled into the hall, all too aware of the pitter-patter of Ruin still dripping from his face. He raced to the bathroom, chased by the image of that black abyss, staring at him, inviting him to – No no no it's not real it's not real it's the Ruin it's infected your eyes somehow you clean it out and everything will be all right again just have to scrub them clean scrub them clean scrub them clean – He slammed the door behind him, wrenched on the taps, then looked up into the old foggy mirror to get an idea of the damage.

A familiar bearded face grinned back at him. "Well well well," Bumby said, glasses flashing. "Look at this. Should I have taken you on as an apprentice instead of a toy, my dear Thirteen?"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!"

Victor bolted upright, gasping for breath. Beside him, he felt Alice jolt awake. "What the – Victor?" She sat up, kicking away the covers, one hand darting under her pillow as she looked left and right. "What is it? What happened?"

Victor stared straight ahead, gulping down air, unable to reply. Her voice – he knew it was just a bit muzzy with sleep, but it was still wrong, wrong enough that he didn't dare look at her, because what if he did and he saw nothing but void, an empty space where the woman he loved once was – and it was all his fault, all his fault, he'd infected her, broken her, Ruined her – and the bedroom was too dark and the sheets too thick and oh God his face was still all hot and sticky had to get it off get it off get it off –

"Victor? Victor! Stop! You're going to hurt yourself!"

Alice's hand closed around his wrist, dragging his clawing fingers away from his skin "Don't touch me!" he screamed, yanking it away. Because that's all it took, one touch and she would be corrupted, destroyed – he couldn't do this he had to get away had to – "I need a moment!" burst from his lips, and he flung the covers back and ran from the room, the drip of the Ruin ringing in his ears as the cycle repeated over again, locking him in a terrible moment of violation and pain – he darted into the bathroom and slammed the door, twisted on the taps and looked in the mirror –

His own face stared back at him.

Victor gripped the sides of the sink, examining his reflection. It was definitely him – pale and worn, hair plastered against his scalp, no sign of the terrible black gunk. But – but he was still so warm, so sticky, how could he be

Sweat, his brain finally put in as he coasted down from the heights of terror. You're sweating. You got hot during the night and started to sweat. That's all. Just sweat. He wiped his face with a sleeve, shoulders slumping in relief. You're not Ruined. You're not corrupted.

Not yet.

knock-knock "Victor?"

Victor nearly jumped out of his skin. "No!" he cried, then swallowed, forcing himself to speak calmly. "I – p-please, Alice. I – I need a minute."

"But – is there anything"

"I just need a minute," Victor begged, voice cracking. "P-please."

There was a thick, terrible silence. "All right," Alice finally said, reluctance clear. "I'll see you in a minute."

"Thank you." Victor listened hard as she turned away from the door and headed back down the hall. Once he was sure she'd really gone, he let out a deep, shuddering sigh. God, that had been a bad one. . .the worst yet, in fact. Especially with how close Alice had come to finding out. . . . He stuck his face in the sink, letting the chilly water wash away the remnants of his dream. Why did he keep having these nightmares? Why did his sleeping mind like to torment him so?

You know why, Thirteen. . . .

Victor jerked his head up, then yelped as it collided with the faucet. "Ow! Damn it. . . ." He turned off the water and stood up straight, rubbing his aching skull. "Shut up," he told his reflection. "I'm not – I'm not Thirteen anymore. I fixed that. I beat him."

His reflection didn't look convinced. "I beat him!" Victor reiterated, more forcefully. "I smashed that wall to smithereens! I stabbed him straight in his bloody heart and killed him! He has no hold over me anymore!"

"Aren't you going to defile me?"

Victor gritted his teeth, shoving away the image of that black, gaping hole offering itself up to him. "I would never," he hissed. "I would never do such a thing to Alice."

But you'd dream about doing it. Dream about taking her and making her yours. Dream about violating her the same way you were.

"Dreams and reality are–"

Not that different. Certainly not now, when she can invite you into her very mind. Do you think she'd want you there if she knew the way you look at her? Where your eyes keep straying? Where you want to touch her?

Victor stared at himself in the mirror. A wet, haunted face looked back at him. So innocent right now. . .but it took so little for it to turn cruel and lustful. . . . He dropped his head, unable to take even his own gaze. "Why are you so weak?" he whispered, shame filling him. "He barely had a chance to get his claws into you. Seven days, that's all. Seven days, and you're still. . . ." He stopped, not wanting the words to actually leave his mouth. "He couldn't have put all these thoughts into my head over one measly week. Couldn't have corrupted me so fully."

Maybe he didn't have to. Maybe the reason he took you is because deep down inside, he saw a kindred spirit, someone as twisted as himself

Victor slammed the door on that thought. "No. I am not as bad as him," he snapped, yanking the towel off its ring and drying his face. "I know the difference between right and wrong. He didn't take that away from me. Alice will never suffer by my hand. I will never inflict such twisted horrors on her."

No, you'll just wake her up in the middle of the night screaming your fool head off. What the hell does she even see in you?

"I don't know. But she's still here. Which means I have to keep trying." He shoved the towel back into place and glared at the Victor in the mirror. "All you are doing right now is making life harder for everyone else," he snarled. "You're lucky you didn't wake up the whole house just now. What do you think Dr. Wilson would have made of that little episode, hmm? What if he'd found out the truth? You'd already be on your way to Rutledge! And you'd deserve it too." He jabbed a finger at the glass. "You are the Swell Who Walks Whitechapel. You are the Defeater of the Wall. You burst Bumby's Ruined heart and sent it back to Hell where it belongs. You should know how to fix this already. And you should not be so affected by some stupid bad dreams. Just go back to bed and get over it."

A grumpy part of his brain chimed, Yes, because that worked so well whenever your mother told you to do that, but he ignored it. After almost a fortnight, it was still the only advice he had. He pulled his shoulders back, forcing himself to stand straight and tall. "Get over it," he repeated. Then he yanked open the bathroom door and started back down the hall.

June's door opened as he passed. "Victor?" She poked her head out, rubbing her eyes. "Everything all right? I swear I heard a scream just now. . . ."

"Sorry – just me, having another stupid nightmare," Victor told her, putting as much conviction as he could behind the words. Don't burden her with your problems. Don't even hint at how awful you can be. Go back to bed and get over it. "Don't worry about it. Go back to sleep."

June frowned, dubious. "You're sure?"

"Quite. It's nothing, really. You needn't stay awake on my account."

June's frown didn't disappear, but she nodded and retreated back inside her room. Victor sighed and proceeded over to his door. Alice was waiting on the bed, Mr. Bunny in her arms. She fixed him with a piercing look as he came inside. "That was not just 'another stupid nightmare.'"

"Yes it was," Victor said, closing the door behind him.

"Bullshit," Alice replied, shaking Mr. Bunny for emphasis. "I woke up to you trying to claw your face off, Victor. Stupid nightmares don't do that to people." Her tone softened. "What happened?"

Oh nothing, Alice, I just once again realized what a vile person I am deep down inside and why you shouldn't trust me as far as you can throw me. "I don't want to talk about it," Victor snapped, sitting down so hard on the mattress the pillows jumped. "I just want to go back to sleep and forget it ever happened. You should too."

"Forget my boyfriend attempting to rip his skin to shreds right in front of me? Yes, that'll work," Alice said, sarcasm dripping off every word.

"Well, I've managed to not bring up the time I caught you trying to smother yourself mid-nightmare, haven't I?"

"Yes, but I didn't tell you to just ignore me doing that! I let you know what was bothering me! Don't I deserve the same courtesy?"

You'll probably try to smother me if I tell you – "I thought we agreed this afternoon that I'm allowed to have some space to figure things out on my own?" Victor said instead, glaring.

Alice pinched the bridge of her nose. "I think I'm at least entitled to an explanation as to why you attacked yourself like that! You were scratching at your eyes, Victor! What if you'd done something to them? I know you think going blind is a fate worse than death!"

Oh God, he hadn't even thought of that. . .and now that he was, it wasn't helping his mood any. "I didn't – it was – nothing happened!" he shouted, going red. "I'm fine now! It was just a dream and we should stop bothering with it!" He flung himself onto the pillow, rolling over to face the wall. "And I'd like to wake up tomorrow morning actually feeling rested, thank you very much!"

"So would I, but that's not going to happen if I'm sitting up here worrying about you!"

"Then maybe you should sleep somewhere else tonight!"

The shocked, hurt silence that descended between them was an unpleasantly familiar one. Alice stared at him a moment – then her eyes narrowed. "Fine," she said coldly, standing up and collecting her pillow. "I'm sure the girls upstairs won't mind the company. Good night, Master Van Dort."

And then she was gone, out the door before he could say a word. Victor watched as she slammed it shut behind her, stomach twisted into a knot. Damn it, why did this always happen when he was upset? What on God's green earth was wrong with his tongue?

Three for three now, the nasty voice in his head sniggered. Just more proof you don't deserve her.

Shut up, Victor told it, smacking his temple lightly. I'll – I'll talk to her in the morning. Apologize. Being away from each other for a little while worked with Emily. And Victoria, come to think of it. It could be we both need a night alone. He pulled the covers over himself and let his head flop back against the pillow. You've made it to bed – now to get over it. You owe Alice that much.

Of course, as this night was proving, such things were much easier said than done. Victor tossed and turned, trying and failing to find a comfortable position. The mattress was simply too lumpy, too cold, too – empty. Every time he settled in and closed his eyes, he became freshly, deeply aware of the gaping hole by his side. Which only led his thoughts back to another gaping hole, and a china body, and glasses flashing in the mirror. . . . He shuddered and sat up, pressing his fingers against his eyes. "Ugh. . .maybe I should see if the boys would mind me staying in their room for the night."

"If Reggie, Charlie, and Dennis are anything like Abgail, Elsie, and Harriet, you're going to be bombarded with questions about what happened and if you're leaving the Home."

Victor blinked and looked up to see Alice in the doorway, pillow and Mr. Bunny under arm. "And for what it's worth, the floor is also more uncomfortable than that mattress," she continued. "Which is a hard feat, but there you go."

Victor bit his lip, stomach knotting. "Alice, I – I am so s-sorry. I d-didn't really mean–"

"I know you didn't," Alice cut in, crossing over to the bed. "I've lived with you almost a year now, Victor. I'm well-acquainted with your tendency to say things you don't actually believe when you're angry." She plopped down with a sigh. "I'm sorry for storming out like that. And for pushing when you clearly didn't want to talk. It's just–" She knotted her fingers together atop Mr. Bunny's head. "Bloody hell, Victor, you scared me. I haven't woken up to you screaming since the night after Moorgate."

The guilt pooled in Victor's guts, sticky and hot. "I didn't mean to," he murmured, taking one of her hands and sandwiching it in his. "It was just – b-bad."

"I guessed that." Alice glanced at him. "I know I said that all you had to do was ask, and we'd leave you alone to sort things out, but. . .the whole reason we started sharing a room was because of your nightmares. I don't – is there nothing I can do?"

The pleading, the pain in her voice. . .for a moment, all Victor wanted was to confess to everything, tell her what he'd dreamed, beg for her assistance in making it stop. Then he thought about how she'd sound after he did – the screaming, the epithets, the well-deserved fury. If she knew that he had anything in common with Bumby. . .to tell her was to lose her, and – God, he was too weak to let her go. That was why he hadn't insisted they stop sleeping together when the sickness had first manifested. She was, in a way, the source of his suffering – but she was also his main reason to push through it. He despised hurting her, but the truth would only be worse.

But. . .he didn't have to tell her the whole truth, now did he? Not all of the nightmare immediately condemned him. If he was careful to – talk around the worst bits. . . . "Y-you were in it," he murmured.

"Pardon?"

"In my dream," Victor explained, forcing himself to speak up. "Y-you were. . .y-you'd been. . .t-turned into a t-t-toy. A b-broken one."

Alice sucked in a horrified breath. "Oh. Ooooh." She rubbed her arms, as if ascertaining they were still flesh. "Was – he in it too?"

Victor nodded. "And Ruin – e-everywhere. Leaking from – everywhere." He shivered, forcing back the image of the smashed maidenhood, the shattered arse. "Including my eyes, so. . . ."

"And when you woke up, you couldn't. . .oh, Victor." Alice wrapped him in an embrace. "I'm sorry. I should have never told you what the Dollmaker looked like."

"No, it's all right," Victor said, returning her hug. "If it wasn't the Ruin, it would be something else. Possibly something even worse." He tried to laugh. "B-better the devil I know t-than the devil I don't, right?"

"The ideal is no devils at all." Alice sighed. "But I guess that isn't really an option for us." She pulled back, stroking his cheek. "Me being here – doesn't make it worse, does it?"

"Not at all," Victor assured her. "I like being able to see that you're – you." He swallowed. "Please – d-don't tell Dr. Wilson? I don't know h-how he slept through this, but – it was h-hard enough telling you."

"I don't know how he slept through it either – but I won't," Alice promised. "Though I hope you'll be able to on your own, eventually."

Fat chance of that if I want to keep anyone I care about – "We'll see," Victor hedged. "Hopefully t-that was the worst of it." Oh, do I ever hope. . . .

"Fingers crossed," Alice agreed, doing just that. "But if it isn't – what do you want me to do?"

"Just – be here, please," Victor said, twisting his hands together. Why did he have to ask this of her, why couldn't he fight his demons without a crutch. . .she was trying so hard for him, and he couldn't even tell her what a wicked person she was promising her heart to. . . . "I'll – well, I can't promise I won't run next time. If it's a-another dream like that, I'll – I'll n-need a moment." He set his jaw, looking her in the face. "But I'll come back. And I won't l-leave you in the dark again. I can promise that much." So long as I can keep from telling you how corrupted I am.

"Sounds good to me." Alice put her pillow back next to his, then wrapped him in another embrace and pulled him down to the mattress. "He's dead," she whispered in his ear. "He's dead and gone and hopefully gotten whatever's coming to him Below. And those dreams will go away sooner or later." She kissed his cheek. "I love you, Victor. I believe in you. You can fight this off. And I'll always be here for you."

Victor smiled, warmed by her confidence, even as the guilt stabbed at his heart. "I love you too. Thank you."

"You're welcome." She ran her fingers through his hair. "Ready to try this sleep business again?"

"More than." He tucked his head atop hers as she snuggled into his chest. "Morning can't come soon enough."

"Mmmm. . .anything would be an improvement on this night." Alice leaned up briefly and pecked his lips – Victor forced himself to stay still. He'd hurt her enough for one night. "Good night, love."

"Good night." Victor watched as she drifted off, warm and comfortable against his body. Well, that had been rough. But at least they'd gotten through it. He smiled as he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. She was wonderful – so much better than he deserved. So understanding and forgiving. . .and beautiful –

Bile surged up his throat, and he quickly looked away. No. He couldn't look at her like that. Couldn't think of her like that. He screwed up his eyes in self-disgust. How awful not to want to think of your own girlfriend as beautiful! But until he conquered this sickness inside of him. . . .

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. That was something to worry about in the morning. Right now, he really needed to get some sleep. He settled his head against his pillow, allowing himself one last peek at her sleeping face. "I love you," he whispered, shutting his eyes. "And I don't want to hurt you."

God, he hoped he didn't.