#Where is the fucking soundtrack of Marcille doing necromancy to revive Falin I need it to re-read Lucy's living nightmare

[immediatebreakfast]

It exploded, everything, the house of glass went down with a single mistake, and the fury of a monster of a man who deems himself to be the all end of death for the young condemned he chooses.

Poor, poor Lucy, all alone in a house where no one can hear her cry. She was so happy to feel better again, so joyful to finally sleep without worries for the flapping against her window, so thankful for the flowers, and for the people surrounding her. Lucy may be alone at the moment, but she is so so loved, and what does this girl gets after so many suffering nights?

I write this and leave it to be seen, so that no one may by any chance get into trouble through me. This is an exact record of what took place to-night. I feel I am dying of weakness, and have barely strength to write, but it must be done if I die in the doing. as I feared to be alone, I opened my door and called out: "Is there anybody there?" There was no answer.

A tragedy plucked straight out of Lucy's most heart locked nightmares.

She is alone, so utterly alone, with no doctors to call for, nor flowers to breathe, she unintentionally commited the worst thing that anyone can do against Dracula. Lucy defied him in that single moment, in that moment by the window when she stared at the bat without a shred of fear. For the Count who gleefully thrives; textually and thematically, when his victims are shaken with pure human fright, seeing Lucy alive and well to the point of looking at his form without terror was the last straw for him.

Let me reiterate that, this man who has become a monster untouched by time itself decided to stage the worst assault possible towards the girl he has been torturing for weeks, because she looked at him without fear in her eyes.

The time did not seem long, but very, very awful, till I recovered consciousness again. Somewhere near, a passing bell was tolling; the dogs all round the neighbourhood were howling; and in our shrubbery, seemingly just outside, a nightingale was singing.

Lucy's mother is dead, her garlic flowers are torn, the house where she lies has no name, the maids are unconscious, the dogs are coming, the wolf is howling, the specks are mocking her, the nightingale calls her to the light.

My dear mother gone! It is time that I go too. Good-bye, dear Arthur, if I should not survive this night. God keep you, dear, and God help me!

Please Lucy don't climb the willow tree, don't fall into the brook! Lucy your life is up ahead just look up! DON'T GO.

Tell me all about it, dear; tell me all about everything, for there is nothing which interests you which will not be dear to me.

Mina... who are you writing to?