(no subject)
And so it starts.
I bade Mr. Heathcliff to speak to me, though I will not hold my breath in wait for him to seek me out. I've doubts that he would wish to listen to what I have to say. At the most I wish to know why this sudden change in his demeanor, and to assure him that I pose absolutely no threat to her well being. Perhaps, if he is still leery, I can convince him to at least allow me supervised visits to give her the medication she needs. Something tells me that she already has the pills, beyond what I have given Liza to give to her.
What I do not understand is why the vagueness in speaking of them, even in private with me... It was this vagueness that had me still my tongue about the other medication. Nevertheless, no one's hand is as steady as my own save for another doctor. Dr. Watson, and Dr. Frankenstein have not been seen in some time, and I'll be damned if I will allow Mr. Gray -- the man can hardly be called a doctor when he is slave to such disgusting habits -- the opportunity to pierce her veins with anything.
Mr. Brom has become quite the annoyance. I cannot say why I've become his target of rudeness and insults, but I've decided that I will simply ignore him to the best of my ability. I may respond to certain things, but when it comes to his ignorance and lack of intelligence...it is best that I do not. I find my patience for such things becoming quite short, especially after attempting to explain to him. Americans; I cannot help but wonder if the majority of them are just plain stupid.
I believe I am beginning to grow ill. I find myself dizzy and short of breath at times. It is usually when my emotions are becoming excitable... Perhaps it is not illness, but some other affliction, such as my tired nerves. I had the most dreadful case of vertigo the night Heathcliff struck me. It is no surprise; the man gives quite a punch. Beyond the dizziness, my nose heals still. It is tender, and my eyes are bruised, but it is nothing I have not experienced before.
The books I have been reading become more and more disturbing. The images therein could leave an unnerved man glancing over his shoulder. One could only imagine what reaction they have pulled from me. I should cease reading them, though I believe something can be found in them. I hope that I am not wrong, and these nightmares are for naught.
I bade Mr. Heathcliff to speak to me, though I will not hold my breath in wait for him to seek me out. I've doubts that he would wish to listen to what I have to say. At the most I wish to know why this sudden change in his demeanor, and to assure him that I pose absolutely no threat to her well being. Perhaps, if he is still leery, I can convince him to at least allow me supervised visits to give her the medication she needs. Something tells me that she already has the pills, beyond what I have given Liza to give to her.
What I do not understand is why the vagueness in speaking of them, even in private with me... It was this vagueness that had me still my tongue about the other medication. Nevertheless, no one's hand is as steady as my own save for another doctor. Dr. Watson, and Dr. Frankenstein have not been seen in some time, and I'll be damned if I will allow Mr. Gray -- the man can hardly be called a doctor when he is slave to such disgusting habits -- the opportunity to pierce her veins with anything.
Mr. Brom has become quite the annoyance. I cannot say why I've become his target of rudeness and insults, but I've decided that I will simply ignore him to the best of my ability. I may respond to certain things, but when it comes to his ignorance and lack of intelligence...it is best that I do not. I find my patience for such things becoming quite short, especially after attempting to explain to him. Americans; I cannot help but wonder if the majority of them are just plain stupid.
I believe I am beginning to grow ill. I find myself dizzy and short of breath at times. It is usually when my emotions are becoming excitable... Perhaps it is not illness, but some other affliction, such as my tired nerves. I had the most dreadful case of vertigo the night Heathcliff struck me. It is no surprise; the man gives quite a punch. Beyond the dizziness, my nose heals still. It is tender, and my eyes are bruised, but it is nothing I have not experienced before.
The books I have been reading become more and more disturbing. The images therein could leave an unnerved man glancing over his shoulder. One could only imagine what reaction they have pulled from me. I should cease reading them, though I believe something can be found in them. I hope that I am not wrong, and these nightmares are for naught.