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"Oh, Lucy ..." He murmurs as he kisses my neck. His hot breath scours my face, but his cold hands chill me to my very bones. I turn my head to escape his kiss, but his eyes fix on me with their intense stare. The expression in them is as dark as the ebony hair that falls around his face. Full of fury, yet tinged with something else ... sadness. He kisses me long and deep and I feel his hands gripping me tighter still. Although I am undoubtedly attracted to this man, the mysterious Edward Hyde, something inside tells me that he is not the man he appears to be. For reasons I cannot comprehend his touch sends shivers up my spine. And those eyes, they burn through into the deepest reaches of my soul. Unable to look away I speak directly into his face, although my voice utters only a whisper.
"Please Sir, it's time for you to go."
He answers me with a sudden loud laugh, and a wild grin. "Oh dear, I'm
afraid I'm not going anywhere." He kisses me again, roughly. "I'm quite
comfortable where I am." He sprawls out on the bed, resting his head
on his hands, all the while leering at me with those eyes. Suddenly something
flickers across them, something foreign, and his grin becomes frightening,
like that of an insane man. I sit up abruptly, but as I swing my legs over
the edge of the bed he catches me by the arm, his grip icy and strong.
"And neither are you, my darling Lucy!" He pulls me close to him, and embraces
me. "You're not going anywhere." He stokes my hair as he whispers into
my ear. "We'll be together forever, you and I."
"I'm sorry Sir, but I'm due back downstairs. I'm afraid it's time for you to go."
"NO!" He screams, violently pushing me away from him. And as I lift my head to meet his gaze, he slaps me across the face with such force and anger that I whirl uncontrollably, the entire side of my face feels as though it's erupted in flames. Has he just hit me? It seems unbelievable that this man, this crazy violent ... beast is the same man who has just embraced me. He has frightened me from the moment he entered The Red Rat, I should have refused him, but his touch was different than any I've felt before. And those eyes, they seemed so familiar.
He is leaning over me, enraged like an animal, and I know at once from the look in his eyes that he WILL kill me. I have to get away! But before I can move he grabs me by the hair and pulls me upright. "You're not going anywhere."
"Please, Sir! Mr. Hyde, please ..." I scream, losing all self-control. I struggle against his grip, my eyes filling with tears of desperation. He begins to laugh, a low evil sound that reveals the satisfaction he finds in my tears.
"Oh Lucy, will you ever LEARN!" Suddenly there is a burst of pain across my shoulders, the likes of which I have never felt before. I gasp for air, and as he throws me down onto the bed the warmth of my own blood replaces his icy touch. Sobbing uncontrollably, I hear myself begging for mercy, but he strikes me again, this time throwing me off the bed. My whole body shaking from pain and fear, I retrieve my coat and boots and stagger towards the door, expecting with each step to feel him behind me. The pain across my shoulders all the while growing more and more acute. As I struggle to open the door, he speaks from the bed. He is quiet, but the wild tone in his speech frightens me more than his screaming. "My poor sweet thing, do you really think you'll ever get away?"
But soon I've stumbled out onto the street, and though no footsteps can be heard on the stairs, I know he'll be coming for me. I have to get away! My foot catches on a cobblestone, sending me sprawling into the deserted street. The pain across my shoulders is too much to bear, and my vision blurs. In a moment it clears, and lying in front of me on the rain-soaked pavement is a slip of paper from my coat pocket. The Doctor's address! He had given it to me in case I should need a friend. He had been so kind to me, not like the other men in the Red Rat ... not like him. Why had Dr. Jekyll come to such a place? It was as though he was an angel. He will help me, surely he will understand. And where else can I go?
As I make my way through the rain slicked streets, the ache in my shoulders is accompanied by fits of dizziness, yet I continue on hurriedly, knowing that somewhere behind me Mr. Hyde is catching up. Finally, after what seems like an eternity, I find myself at the address on the slip. A gigantic mansion looms before me, the house of a successful doctor, no doubt. I pause for a moment in awe, but soon the sound of Hyde's voice drifts into my head. My poor sweet thing, do you really think you'll ever get away? Gripped by a new bout of panic, I stumble for the door and knock frantically. Please, God, let him be home!
An older man opens the door, and for a moment I am certain that the address was a false one. What business has a man going around giving his address to prostitutes? But then the man smiles and says, "If you're looking for Dr. Jekyll, he has stepped out for a moment. He should be returning shortly. Please, come wait in his study and get out of that terrible rain." He opens the door wider and I gratefully step in.
"I'm sorry to call so late--I can't thank you enough, Sir," I say, trying to avoid soiling the plush carpeting in the hallway. He smiles warmly at me, but I can see the doubt in his eyes. I can only imagine what I look like, and as I pass a large rectangular mirror my suspicions are confirmed. I am a complete and utter mess. My clothes soiled from dirt and what appears to be blood, my hair matted to my face.
"As I said, the doctor should be home very soon. He left in a rush, but he is expecting a package to be delivered here at 11:OO, and he demands that no one accept the parcel but him."
"He has a very beautiful home." I say, as we enter the comfortable study. The walls are lined with books, and there is a small medical bench in the corner, covered in bottles and vials of all different shapes and colors. "He must be very successful."
"Yes miss, he is the physician of many important people." His eyes darted away from my own. "May I ask, miss, your affiliation with the doctor?"
For a moment I can think of no reply, but as I glance the handsome portrait of Dr. Jekyll on the wall, hanging next to a portrait of a man who must be his father, I speak easily.
"We're good friends, Henry and I. We met at one of my performances."
"You're in the theatre, then?"
"Yes, yes I am." I answer somewhat ruefully.
He seems content with this answer. "I shall leave you to wait for the doctor then. May I offer you something? Some tea perhaps?"
"Oh, no thank you. Please don't trouble yourself about me."
"Very well then, miss." And with a smile he is gone. The pain in my shoulders is slowly moving down my spine, and I move towards a comfortable looking sofa on the far side of the room. I sit down hesitantly, careful not to stain the fabric with any dirt or blood from my clothes. On the table next to the sofa is a single rose in a vase, and the sight of this beautiful thing makes me smile. Attached is a card that reads: "To My Darling Henry. Yours eternally, Emma." Upon reading this my smile fades; has Dr. Jekyll really promised his heart to a bride? If he has given me his address out of pity, than I have no business being here. But as I rise to leave, the door opens and Dr. Jekyll enters. When he sees me his expression shifts from concern to happiness.
"Miss Lucy, what a surprise! What brings you here, is everything all right?" As he closes the door and crosses the room I struggle to tell my story without tears.
"I ... I didn't know where else to go. You told me if I ever needed a friend ... I just ... you're the only friend I've got."
"It's all right, I'm glad you've come." A tear of relief trickles down my cheek. "Oh don't cry my sweet thing! Everything will be fine." He puts his hand on my shoulder to comfort me, but even his tender touch sends a streak of pain across my back. I wince away from his hand. "Lucy, are you hurt?" I nod silently, and he looks down at his blood-covered hand in shock. "Oh dear God! You are hurt! Please sit Lucy, sit and rest, let me help you." He eases me down once again onto the couch, taking my hat as and gently removing my coat. He kneels in front of me, his brow furrowed with a look of concern. "You are safe here, Lucy. You came to the right place." He rises and walks behind me. "Let me get a look at the wound. I understand it's painful, but I'll try my best to make you more comfortable. Please tell me if I hurt you ... I'll try to be careful ... Poor thing, you've lost quite a lot of blood."
Carefully he pulls down the back of my shirt. I sense a bit of embarrassment on his part, but I myself feel none. Since my employment at the Red Rat, all womanly self-consciousness has long since departed my person. His warm touch slowly and methodically moves down my neck, and I hear a small gasp from the doctor as the wound is exposed. "Good heavens! Who in God's name did this to you? What monster? Oh, my poor Lucy, it appears to have been inflicted by some sort of dagger or knife." He gently wipes the wound with a clean cloth, and as he does this I attempt to explain the situation.
"It was a gentleman ... at the club. He approached me, and he seemed very interested, but there was something about him that chilled me to my very core. I tried to avoid him, but he was very attractive and very ... well, persuasive. And when he bought me for the night I had no choice but to do as he said. At first he was gentle - passionate - but when I brought him up to the room he quickly became violent." I gasp at a sharp stinging sensation on my shoulder, and the doctor puts his hand tenderly on my face.
"I'm sorry, I have to disinfect the wound to prevent infection before I bandage it. Don't concern yourself, I'm almost finished."
"He threw me around the room, I was sure if I didn't get away he would kill me. And yet, there was something about his eyes ... so familiar ... I'll never forget his name. Hyde ... Edward Hyde." Not a moment after the name is spoken do I feel the doctor remove his hands from my back abruptly. I turn my head to see his expression, but he puts his hands on either side of my face and gently straightens it.
"Don't move." He says quietly. "You'll aggravate the wound. I'm sure that soon you will feel much more comfortable." At this he goes to his desk and leans over it, his face hidden from me. His back is pitching up and down violently, as though he has suffered a great shock.
"Is something wrong, Dr. Jekyll?" I ask hesitantly.
"No, nothing. Everything is fine." After a moment he turns to face me,
flashing a brilliant smile. But it seems ajar, like the stiff façade
in a storefront
window. In his hands he holds a large piece of cloth bandage and a
glass of Scotch. He hands the glass to me, saying: "Drink this, it will
make the pain more tolerable."
"Thank you, Sir." I accept the drink thankfully.
"That wound should be sore for a week or so--it's quite deep. I'll bandage it for you and give you some ointment that should aid in its healing." He tenderly but quickly begins to cover the wound, but now his touch is icy, like the hands that had inflicted the wound not an hour before. Something is definitely wrong. Then he speaks urgently: "When I'm finished here, I am afraid I'll have to ask you to leave, and it is imperative that you not return."
"I hate to impose upon you, Dr. Jekyll, but I've nowhere to go. I'm sure that Mr. Hyde will be looking for me, and if I return to my room he'll be waiting. It's not safe there."
"It's not safe here!" He bursts out. I stare at him in shock, and his look turns from one of anger to one of utter desperation. "You have to believe me, Lucy, when I tell you that I wish you could remain in my company. It's the middle of the night and you are wounded and tired, I know. I wish I could offer you a warm, safe bed--but there is NOT ONE HERE! If I provide you with the funds, please promise me that you will leave London - tonight - and never reveal your beautiful face in this horrible town again!"
What is happening? Has the good doctor gone mad? As he stares intently at me with that pensive look, I begin to feel tears welling up in my eyes. How can he send me out into the cold, dark rainy street knowing that Hyde is looking for me? Surely I'll meet my death elsewhere, if he does not find me. I can't go back out there; he has to let me stay! Finally, at the horrible thought of yet another abandonment, I burst into tears.
"Please! You must let me stay, for he will surely kill me if I leave. He'll find me, Dr. Jekyll! I'm begging you, let me stay!"
He looks away for a moment, lost in thought, and when he turns to face me once again, his eyes are damp with tears of his own.
"I know this man, this Edward Hyde."
"What? Hyde is your acquaintance?"
"No, he is evil. He's a monster, Lucy, and he knows you're here! That is why you must go! Leave tonight and he will not find you, but should he discover you here he WILL kill you, and I cannot protect--." The crashing of the door cuts off his sentence, and I'm sure that Hyde has located me. But standing in the doorway is Dr. Jekyll's colleague John Utterson, the man who had accompanied him in the Red Rat. He is quite moist from the rain, and form beneath his coat he retrieves a small parcel wrapped in brown paper.
"Hello Miss Lucy," he says with a peculiar look on his face, no doubt
wondering why a prostitute is sitting in the study of his betrothed companion.
Nevertheless, he continues fervently. "Henry, I've acquired the drugs
you requested. It was difficult at this time of the night, but considering
the urgency of the matter I was able to coerce them into my possession."
"Thank you, John, my sincerest gratitude." He strides gracefully and quickly across the room, taking the package from his friend and swiftly unwrapping it. "This will mark the end, my friend. With another formula I'm sure I can extinguish the problem once and for all. I bid you send word to Emma that tomorrow I wish to see her beautiful face in my presence."
"Consider it done, Henry. She will be greatly relieved to hear from you."
"I have missed her so, but I could not expose her to any harm, you know that, John. Please, friend, go home and sleep easily, knowing that tomorrow I shall be back to my own ... whole self again."
"Good night, Henry." With these words and a parting smile Utterson is gone. I am deeply confused by the conversation that has just taken place. Before I can speak, however, Dr. Jekyll once again comes to me and kneels by my side.
"Lucy, if you will not leave, then I bid you--do as I say. I must do some work in my laboratory; it is urgent and quite dangerous. Please stay in this study, sleep if you wish, but do not leave this room! Listen carefully: when I take your leave, I will lock the door from the outside and slip the key under the frame. You MUST NOT open it for anyone but myself. Should I sound odd or angry, do not let me in. I will explain later in full, but for the time being you must understand that all I say is crucial and necessary." He smiles and gently touches my troubled face. I am thankful I will be allowed to stay, but I don't understand the bizarre nature of this secret experiment. Dr. Jekyll is much wiser than I will ever be, however, and I have the utmost respect for his wishes. In time, perhaps he will help me to understand the torture he endures even as we speak.
Gratefully, I take his hand in mine and kiss it gently, smiling into
those brilliant dark eyes. They gleam both sadly and excitedly as he stands
to leave.
"Tomorrow morn we will share an extravagant breakfast, you and I, Lucy.
And I shall then explain this nonsense." He eases me gently back on the
sofa, and covers my legs with a blanket from his armchair. "Sleep now;
you are safe in here, safe from all that can harm you." With this he turns
away and walks to the door. As he shuts it behind him, I am certain that
I hear him speak again--quietly, to himself--but I cannot make out the
words. He locks the door and slides the key back into the room. My mind
strains, trying to decipher the words he has just uttered, but it is impossible.
I close my eyes wearily, but as I drift into slumber my last thought it
that the Doctor had whispered, "safe from me."
I awaken abruptly, panic stricken, in the same commodious study. My nightmares fade too slowly, but my vision improves as my eyes grow accustomed to the dark. The light has grown considerably dimmer, as the fire has reduced itself to smoldering ashes. I cannot tell how much time has past, but from the vast silence of the house I am sure it is still night. The key lies in the same location, and Dr. Jekyll has not disturbed me thus far. He is most likely still in the laboratory, wherever that might be. Dr. Jekyll has not yet returned from his laboratory. As I sit upright on the couch I feel the familiar pain in my shoulders return, yet it has already faded to a shadow of its former self. The doctor has worked wonders! I stand and walk to the opposite end of the room, my footsteps muffled on the large embroidered rug that envelops the rich wood flooring. I bend over and retrieve the key, feeling the cold steel against the inside of my palm.
Suddenly there is a crash of thunder outside the house, and the entire room shakes with the force of the reverberations. Frightened and alone, my mind will conjure nothing but visions of Edward Hyde's face, the features that would be attractive if they were not so filled with evil. My heart begins to pound, and I am sure that he is waiting, lurking in every darkened corner of this immense study, the manifestation of my nightmares. Gripped with terror, I unlock the door and flee my unreasonable fears. I know full well that there is no one lurking in the study, for the only souls in this entire house are the Doctor, his kind valet and myself, but my nightmares still linger. In the hall, a candle burns dimly and shows the way to the foyer. As the light tapers off, I can see nothing but the doorway to this reception hall. In the other direction, the candle's glow is engulfed by a stronger light, shining beneath the closed door at the end of the extensive hall. I walk towards the door, worried because Dr. Jekyll will surely be angry that I have ignored his request. I understand he is concerned for my safety, but I see no danger in exploring the house. Neither can I think of experiment dangerous enough to warrant my staying in that study. Thoughts of Hyde linger there like ghosts of another life, one without hope or kindness.
As I near the door I see that it is ajar, yet the source of the light that cascades into the hall is further still. I quietly swing open the door, and it reveals a large flight of stairs, made of stone, that curls downward to another floor of the house. There is someone down there, most likely the Doctor himself, and I can hear the clinking of glass bottles and metal instruments. What could he possibly be doing down there? I must find out, so I slowly descend the stairs, and with each step a resplendent laboratory is revealed. There are several lanterns set atop a large counter, which is covered with a multitude of every gadget imaginable. Beakers and test tubes hold liquids and solids of every color and texture, but the thing that most catches my eye is small. A vial of pure ruby-red liquid glimmers in the lamplight, and the doctor is holding it up so that it reflects the light. As I silently watch, he fills a syringe with the liquid, and after jotting down a few notes in what appears to be a journal, he injects himself with the substance. With this action I am both taken aback and further intrigued. Is the doctor sick? Why would he inject himself with a strange substance? Could he be conducting this secret experiment on himself? I remember what he said to Utterson, back to my own...whole self again, and my mind races to connect the dots, to decipher the mysterious code the doctor has hidden his secrets inside. I reach the bottom step, holding my breath for fear of being discovered. The doctor returns to his journal and speaks to himself as he records his progress.
"One forty seven, a.m. I have just injected myself with the final vial of my HJ7 formula. With the alterations I have made to the ingredients I am hopeful of the outcome. Should my theories prove correct, I will shortly be free of the evil that plagues my soul; it will no longer ... he will no longer be able to take control of my body, my mind or my heart. As I wait for the solution to take its effect I find myself thinking of the poor girl asleep in my study, and the pain I have caused her ... A sudden flash of pain ... the familiar feeling of anger welling up in my stomach ... Oh! ... that rush of power ..." He flings the book to one side, curling over in pain, his face straining in agony. I am frozen to my place in terror. What is happening to him? "NO! ... Not him! ... Goddamn you, you BASTARD! ... Aghhh ..." Suddenly he violently pitches forward, smashing into the instruments on his bench.
"Dr. Jekyll! What's happening to you? What have you done to yourself?" He thrashes inhumanly, knocking glass and metal onto the floor with a resounding crash, then turns his head to see me behind him. He looks at me with great urgency as he gasps for breath, moaning in agony.
"Lucy ... run ... Go, Lucy now! Save yourself before it's too late ... God in heaven, help me!" He collapses to the floor and lies motionless on the cold stones.
"No!" I run to him and kneel beside him, tears pouring down my face. "Dr. Jekyll! Henry, please! What have you done to yourself, you foolish man! Wake up, please!" I cautiously reach out to touch his shoulder, afraid of adding to his pain, but also of something else ... something I cannot quite comprehend--
"You stupid, stupid BITCH!" Suddenly his hand shoots up and clutches
my neck, choking off my air supply, his fingernails piercing my flesh.
For a
moment I truly believe this is my dear Dr. Jekyll's doing, but then
he raises his head and I see those dark angry eyes and that evil smirk
... its Hyde! Jekyll and Hyde are one and the same! How can this be? "Are
you really as stupid as you pretend to be, Lucy?" He stands and drags me
with him, painfully twisting my arm and pulling my hair. "My admirable
Dr. Jekyll nearly spelled it out for you! Of course, perhaps this daftness
isn't an act--after all, you are just another whore!" He throws me against
the wall, and my head bounces painfully off the stones. Dazed, I stand
pinned to the wall by his hand, like steel against my stomach. As I begin
to whimper helplessly, he closes in on me, his mouth inches from my own.
His eyes are void of all sadness now; Dr. Jekyll is gone, and Hyde is in
charge.
He reaches up with his free hand to touch my face, and the fury in his eyes turns to lust, a look that makes my skin crawl. "We could have been a wonderful couple, you and I." He kisses me lightly on the lips, and I turn my head in disgust. "We could have been happy-you could have been rich, I could have been ... human. But you had to ruin it all, Lucy!" He speaks in a mocking tone: "You told me if I ever needed a friend ... I just ... you're the only friend I've got." He slaps me on the cheek, laughing that insane cackle. "If you would learn to behave like a LADY and stop running around with other men--incredibly boring ones I might add--I wouldn't have to hurt you, Lucy!" But he does, gripping my arms with inhuman strength as he pins me tightly against the wall. Second by second his grasp gets stronger until I'm sure my arms will break, but then he hurls me away from the wall, with such force I careen off the lab table and onto the floor. I land like a rock in a pile of glass from Jekyll's transformation, and several pieces pierce my skin.
"Please, Hyde, don't kill me! I never loved Henry ... only you. Please take me back." I struggle to control my sobs, but this futile attempt only makes him laugh harder.
"I'll never understand, Lucy, why you would settle for good when evil's so much more fun?"
"Jekyll is ... was kind, but you scare me, Hyde." As soon as the words leave my lips I regret them. I attempt to stand, but my hand slips on a large shard of glass. It is bigger then my hand and unconsciously I grip it, remaining on the floor. Hyde casually strides over to when I lay, and he looms over me like the devil himself. His are eyes more wild then ever and his grin like that of a deranged serpent.
"I scare you, do I?" He leans closer. "BOO! Did I scare you then?" He
punches me in the stomach, causing me to curl into ball, striving for breath.
"I
suppose that scared you as well, AM I RIGHT, LUCY?" He grabs my shirt
and pulls me upright, whispering in a fierce voice, "I'm going to enjoy
your death so very much, my darling Lucy. So much, in fact, that when I'm
finished I might just let old Henry out to see what he's done." But before
he can take action, my left arm jolts forward, driving the shard of glass
deep into his stomach. His face goes blank for a moment, and then the realization
sets in. He gasps for air as I had minutes before, only this time he will
never regain his breath. "Lucy, what have you done?" He asks faintly, collapsing
to the ground. And as I watch his last seconds of life, he speaks
again, but this time in another voice. "Lucy ... sweet Lucy ... forgive
me ..."
"Henry! Oh, God, please! Dear God in heaven, what have I done? I killed Hyde, don't take Jekyll with him! They are not the same man! They are not the same man!" And as I sob over the body of the man I loved, and the lover I despised, he speaks his final words. Not as Jekyll or Hyde, evil or good, but as the collective soul that is in each of us:
"Yes ... we are ..."