|
|
"When Emma returns, who will it be Henry? Who shall be the one to greet her?"
Henry Jekyll snapped
awake, those last words ringing in his ears. The room was silent; the only
bit of light penetrating the darkness was the
small amount shed through the crack in the almost shut door. Lying
here, immobile and alone in the darkness of night, he felt more alone and
afraid
then he had ever felt in his life. "Is this it? Is this how my father
spent those last days . . . was he as terrified as I am now?" He shut his
eyes, not
knowing which the darkness was worse, the internal or the external.
Hyde now terrified him, his own creation no longer a facet of his personality,
but
a part of him, embedded more deeply since the wedding then ever before.
Henry wondered if he was going insane, if Hyde would drive him to follow
in the footsteps of his father, and if there was anyway to prevent
this from occurring. He had been foolhardy, and had lied to himself as
well as
Helena. He could think of no way to destroy Hyde now, not without destroying
himself in the process.
"You can't win, he is you . . .
" He heard the words escape from his raspy throat even before he was aware
he had opened his mouth, but he
knew his weary lips spoke the truth. The days he had spent unconscious,
fighting his way back to Emma and the life she deserved to share with him,
had been such torture. Each step closer he took to his life, to the
voices he heard floating through the darkness, revealed another truth for
Hyde to
conquer, another part of himself he gave up to that bastard. It was
not until Hyde had shut him away, using his battered body to assault Helena,
that
Jekyll realized that those days had not been spent in hell at all,
but in purgatory, and that perhaps he had been headed in the wrong direction.
Surely hell was here on earth,
where that monster could get at his loved ones, where he constantly was
forced to fight for control of his own
being. "I will find a way, and Helena and I will prevent you from ever
harming anyone again." He whispered to himself, knowing that, although
not
acknowledged, his words could be heard in the murky depths of his soul.
"Where are you now? What are you planning?" He whispered, softer then
before. He wished Helena were there, the only person with whom he could
talk, explain his feelings to. "You bastard . . . why don't you answer!?"
He gripped the sheets by his hands in frustration. "I know you can
hear me, act like a man, and not the evil thing you are . . . "
"Are you really so lonely that you feel the need to talk to yourself, Henry?"
The words themselves rose from
deep within him, and were accompanied by a severe bout of pain, surging
through Jekyll's chest. He gasped
for air, arching his back involuntarily, aggravating his bandages and
the stitches Helena had used to close the wound. "You hurt . . . yourself
. . .
every time . . . you hurt me, Hyde . . . " He grunted from between
clenched teeth, knowing that he did not have to speak aloud to communicate
with
this demon, but that the sound of his own voice kept him sane.
"Yes, but-unlike you--I'm man enough to take it, which is ironic, isn't it?"
He chuckled darkly, his laughter
causing Henry's whole body to contract, nearly sending him off the side
of the bed. "Hel . . . Helena . . . "
He wheezed, knowing that she would never hear him, desperate for someone
to make the pain stop.
"Wonderful idea, Henry! Why don't you call our little cherub in here, maybe prompt her to check our physical status . . . under the covers."
"You leave . . . her . . . alone!
You repulse her, in every way . . . no one could ever love you!" He shouted,
a forceful whisper but nothing
more. And he found himself beginning to pray, to beg for mercy from
this torment.
"Love? Who said anything
about love? I don't want her love, I want her body-and again irony sets
in, Henry . . . because she does love you,
you stupid, blind fool, and you're too much of a gentlemen to honour
the lady's requests . . ."
"You know nothing about what you're saying . . . Helena is my colleague, and Emma is my wife and I-"
"Why don't you stop talking
now, Henry, before you find it impossible to breathe. I'd hate to pain
you anymore then necessary, and your
pitiful whining is beginning to irritate me."
And with this statement, Jekyll
received such a jolt of agony he thought his heart would tear in two, and
had never been more aware of the
power Hyde now exerted over him. He found his eyesight blurring, the
small beam of light coming from the doorway fading, leaving him alone.
And
as Hyde's sinister laughter echoed in his subconscious, Henry Jekyll
was once again lost to the darkness.