I haven't paced since my heart stopped beating over two centuries ago. I have always been calm, rational… patient.
So why can't I stop my feet now?
Six-and-a-half steps take me from wall to wall, and I have made that journey so many times that I can see where the polish is wearing away.
I force myself to stop, make my eyes look at him, motionless on the bed. Two days with no change, except in the pitch of his screams.
If I can endure eternity resisting human blood, surely I can wait a few hours more.
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