By the time summer once again comes around, they proudly declare that I am cured and doing better than ever. That I am finally fixed and ready to rejoin society and take on the role I was born into, to be a doting wife and a highborn lady of manor Wright. I have grown so used to the mild scent of mildew that permeates the entire asylum that when I step outside and freshly cut grass greets my senses instead, I almost feel overwhelmed. “I am glad to see you well, my lady.” One of our maids says, gently guiding me into the carriage. As she spots the bruising left on my wrists by the countless nights I spent restrained to a bed, she says nothing. She takes out a pair of white lacy wrist cuffs covered in pearls and helps me put them on. “Much better.” She assures me with a smile.  

As I look at her insincere smile, my thoughts wander to the mysterious being that once took my sister. I had not seen him since that night, but many times in the asylum I could feel his presence. A patient would fall silent, and an unnatural cold would spread. Then came the smell and the soft buzzing of flies. And the next morning, a hearse would come fetch the body. And despite not seeing it myself, I knew for sure that it was his doing. And every single time my mind would wander, and I would feel this strange sensation of warmth in my stomach. I would imagine him holding me close in loving embrace, much like he did with my sister. And then he would talk to me. He would whisper words and affirmations I had always longed to hear from a man. We would become one and I would be laid to rest.  

Our manor looks just the same as I remember, but Mother seems to have aged a century over the course of a single year. She greets me with a halfhearted hug, her eyes empty and her voice monotone. She steps back, instructs the servants and then retreats into the mansion, silent as a ghost as her black gown flows behind her. The maid that came to pick me up seems determined to make up for her enthusiasm, as she grabs my hands gently and smiles. “You are just in time for the midsummer ball, my lady. I'm sure you will be the most stunning woman there.” She says and begins to lead me to the upstairs bathroom. The last thing I want to do right now is socialize and play pretend, but both mother and father made it very clear in their letters this would be my last chance to remain in their good graces. Not to mention it was a great way to present myself as a good wife candidate and ensure our wealth and status would remain high.  

The maid helps me undress and into the warm bath as I let myself slip under the surface for a short while, savoring the feeling of warm fresh water. I hear her starting to hum as she adds flower petals and oils into the bathwater. She brushes my hair and scrubs over every inch of my bare skin, removing any lingering dirt. She pays no mind to the bruises and scars that now litter various parts of my body, and she does not question where or how any of them got there. Not that I expected her to do that of course. And as a proper lady should, I do not bring them up either, simply sitting back and letting her do her job. Once that's all done, I get out of the bath and dry myself off, putting on some proper underwear and sitting in front of the mirror. I haven't seen my own reflection in a long time.  

I look quite gaunt, cheeks sunken in from a poor diet and eyes tired and hollow. Under the light of nothing but the setting sun I could be easily mistaken for a corpse. I run my fingers through my thick brown hair and a few strands tangle themselves into them and tear off. Long hair always felt so suffocating to me. When it was done up in braids it was bearable, and I could still feel the wind in my neck. But when it was wet and down like this it always seemed to get tangled on the smallest things and strands of it would get left behind everywhere. The drain on our bathtub looked like some sort of sea monster had gotten stuck and shredded into it, thick strands of hair poking out here and there.  

As the maid brings in my dress for the night with the proper accessories and tulle skirt she beams with excitement. For her this seems to be some sort of fairytale moment, where the princess goes to the castle ball and meets her prince and they live happily ever after. How I wish this was that kind of night. I will myself to try and share her energy, only managing a tight wide smile as I stand up to examine the dress. The dress and everything with it is pure white of course, symbolizing my purity and innocence as an untouched woman. The long-ruffled sleeve brings the outfit a hint of youth, while the lace accessories hint at what hides underneath it all. The flowers with the dress that will also be intertwined in my hair are lilies of course, hinting at rebirth and adding a small subtle slash of color to the ensemble. As the theme of the ball this year is a masquerade, the maid hands me a mask as well, also white with pink and gold decorations.