For a moment he stood there and watched her as she struggled to take off her slip. Isabel was pathetic, really. All of that grumbling and whining and now look at her, all weak and in need of his help. In a way, it disgusted him.
But in a different way, he liked her helplessness, how frail and easily subdued she was. It was nice to break her in little ways like this, to see the pain and the love in her eyes. Hopelessly devoted to him even though he was killing her; it made Vincent feel all warm and fuzzy inside.
Carefully, he helped her into the shower, letting the heat catch her open sores accidentally on purpose. He took hold of a sponge and gently washed it over her skin. In these moments, it was hard not to like her.