Hyde Read online

  Charlotte gently but firmly drew her hand out of Jekyll's. "No. This is about your future. It will have to be a future without me. I feel I have been made a fool of. Please go now. I cannot bear to see you anymore. Lawrence?"

  Jekyll tried to protest, but felt a hand on his shoulder. It was the butler, who said, "Doctor, I am afraid I must escort you from the premises."

  Jekyll threw one last look at Charlotte, who had turned away to gaze out the window again. Jekyll turned away and left the home. He rose back to his manor in silence, went to his study, and sat brooding.

  After several hours, he whispered, "Never again, Hyde."

  I admit, I underestimated Jekyll.

  He did not take the drug that night, nor the next night. Indeed, despite the obvious pain and struggles that it caused, Jekyll did not take the potion again for an entire week. During that time, I suffered greatly from the knowledge that I was trapped inside of him, locked away from what I considered to be my life. Rebecca must surely have been wondered where I was. And I missed my scheduled match. While Jekyll went through his life, treating patients and entertaining guests, I had naught to do but watch and wait.

  During this time, I realised the truth; Jekyll and I shared one body, but lived two lives. The situation could not continue unaffected. Eventually, one of our lives would be forced to end and one would be in total control. Jekyll and I were no longer brothers or father and son. We were enemies.

  I watched Jekyll write many letters to Charlotte Glass, pleading with her for reconciliation. He would take them to her home and give them to the servants to convey to Charlotte, but received no response.

  At the start of the second week without release, I began to consider that waiting for Jekyll would lead me nowhere. I knew that he had not given up on me entirely, since he still had the tools and chemicals for the drug in his laboratory. The fact that he had not destroyed them showed he intended to take it again. Still, I had to find a way out myself.

  It was during one of Jekyll's patient visitations that I formed my plan. Jekyll was consulting with Zannini, the female patient who complained of bouts of hysteria. I could not help but note how beautiful she was. Despite her modest dress, I noted the pleasing form of her body under her clothes. Thoughts of desire for her formed in my mind.

  Jekyll was writing notes on her case when his hand trembled. I felt his breathing quicken and heart racing.

  "Doctor?" asked the young lady. "Are you well?"

  "Yes." Jekyll swallowed and blurted, "I'm fine. I seem to have grown a bit light-headed."

  I knew what had happened. In reality, my thoughts had been transmitted to Jekyll again, as they had when he had kissed his fiancee'.

  I began to focus harder on her body, intentionally feeding my hunger for the woman. I sent forth the will to grab the woman right there in his office. Jekyll began pretending to cough as an excuse to look away from her to the floor.

  "Keep your foul inclinations to yourself, Hyde," whispered Jekyll.

  But I continued.

  Jekyll scribbled out a prescription and handed it to the woman, continuing to keep his eyes on the floor. "Take this to the apothecary. It should aid your recovery."

  The woman took the paper with a confused murmur of thanks. I was disappointed for a moment. My purpose had not been simply to embarrass him. My hope had been to seize control of his body, enough to force him to take the draught. In that, I had failed. Yet what I saw gave me a glimmer of hope.

  Jekyll's hand had changed. Where it had once been ruddy and thick, it was now thin and pale. In short, it was my hand not Jekyll's. The change lingered for but a moment, then Jekyll's hand returned to normal. At first, I thought I had been merely imagining the change, but it was real. Every other part of his body had remained the same. It seemed that no other part of his body had changed, merely that one hand. Somehow, my will alone had caused his hand to transform without the drug.

  The prospect thrilled me. I was no longer a prisoner. I had the key to my freedom within me. I merely had to find a way to turn the lock.

  I spent the rest of the day focused on trying to will the change, but was unsuccessful. In Jekyll's sleep, I remained awake, exerting my energies. At one moment, I felt a slight rush and Jekyll's eyes opened. The room swam up and down, as if our body slid on the mattress, though we lay still. And then the sensation faded. Jekyll murmured and closed his eyes to return to sleep, but I was overjoyed. It seemed as if I had gained control in that moment. The sliding sensation had been Jekyll's body shrinking to my size, then swelling back to normal. I had done it once. I could do it again.

  The next few days was spent in much the same manner. I slept very little, spending every waking moment in intense concentration. During daylight, I achieved little. However, I discovered I was more successful at night, perhaps because Jekyll was asleep and had less of a hold on his faculties. In time, I became quite skilled at triggering the change for a few seconds at a time, enough to open my eyes and sit up before Jekyll regained control. Jekyll became quite annoyed and later commented to Poole that he seemed to be having trouble sleeping at night. I savored his frustration as I would a fine wine.

  It was fully two weeks before I made the greatest breakthrough. It was late at night as I exerted myself fully and watched the world slide as I changed in Jekyll's bed. I opened my eyes and sat up. I waited for the change to revert back. It did not. I looked down at my body swimming in Jekyll's bedclothes. It remained the same, thin and pale as ever. I stood up and walked to Jekyll's bedroom door. No change occurred.

  Could it be that I had succeeded in maintaining my form? It seemed so. I could barely contain my excitement as I changed from Jekyll's bedclothes to his smallest suit. I rushed down the stairs, biting my lower lip to prevent myself from shouting in glee. I was free, a prisoner no more!

  I ran out onto the street, expecting to see Lucky there as always. There was no one to be seen. Apparently, Lucky had given up waiting for me. I ran down the street until I was able to hail a cab to take me to my usual pub.

  I arrived to find Rebecca sitting at the counter, sipping on a glass of wine. She threw herself into my arms the moment she saw me.

  "Where have you been?" she cried. "I haven't seen you in weeks."

  "Yes, I know. I'm sorry. I was unavoidably detained."

  She pulled away and braced her hands on her hips. "Cryptic as always. One day, Edward, I shall be the one 'unavoidably detained' and leave you waiting here alone all night. And perhaps I shall not return."

  "If you were never to return, my darling, I would go mad."

  "That's a pleasant thought, I suppose. You know, Lucky was inquiring about you. He said you missed a bout at Labonte's club."

  "Yes, I know. I can only hope that I can salvage this. Come, we must away."

  I led her by the hand out of the pub and into the cab, where we rode to Labonte's gambling parlor. As I walked in, I noticed Lucky at one of the tables.

  He greeted me with a cry of alarm. "Ah, Mister Hyde, good to see you, sir. I feared your wild ways had finally caught up with you."

  "Not quite yet. Where is Labonte?"

  Lucky shook his head. "Ah, you're not going to want to speak with him right now. He's quite upset about the bout you missed."

  "That is precisely why I must speak with him."

  Lucky opened his mouth to speak again, then looked over my head and froze. A shadow fell over me.

  I turned to see Labonte towering over me, his nostrils flaring as he glared down at me. He growled, "Where have you been, Hyde?"

  "I apologize, my lord. I was unavoidably detained."

  "You missed your bout. You cost me quite a bit of money. I don't like losing money. I want to know why."

  I bowed my head. "My lord, I'm afraid I must confess that I was imprisoned for a period of time. I was only recently freed."

  Labonte grunted. "What you do on your own time is your own affair, Hyde. When it interferes with my business, it becomes my affair. Handle yours
elf in the future."

  "Yes, my lord."

  "Well, I can get you into another bout for tomorrow. You'd best show up for that one or our relationship will be at an end. And that would not be good for your health, Mister Hyde."

  "I understand, my lord."

  Labonte turned away. "Let's get you weighed in."

  I stripped and weighed in before the cheering crowds. My opponent was Frederick Moody, also known as the Cowboy, seeing as he came from America. He stood quite a bit larger than myself. His face looked crumpled with a mashed-in nose, cauliflower ears, one eye that came slightly lower than the other, and a snarl that revealed missing teeth. Once weighed, Labonte weighed my opponent.

  "Perhaps I shall re-arrange your features into a more pleasing shape," I tossed at him. "Like perhaps a cow's turd."

  My comment brought roars of laughter. Moody himself said nothing, which disturbed me.

  With the weighing done, he scheduled my fight for the next evening. I was confident that turning up would not be an issue.

  Indeed, I had come to a decision - now that I was in control, I would never give it up. I would remain as Edward Hyde forever. Let Jekyll experience the agony of being trapped forever. It would be dangerous living with the police in pursuit without Jekyll to retreat to, but it was a risk I was willing to take. I decided I would rather live in a prison of iron than a prison of flesh.

  I went to Jeremiah and explained my situation to him. He agreed to help me with my training.

  We went to a gymnasium nearby, where he schooled me in some of the finer points of pugilism [research].

  "First and foremost," said Jeremiah, "you need to work on your defense. You're a wicked fighter and fast, and your speed makes it hard to respond in kind, but there's always going to be someone who will get a punch in."

  Jeremiah held up his arms to demonstrate. "Allow the punches to hit your forearms, not your body. And keep your feet apart like this. It'll help you move more quickly."

  He demonstrated by shifting his feet to carry him around the floor. I tried to imitate him as best I could, but stumbled many times and lost my rhythm.

  "And you need to work on your technique. You swing wildly without control." Jeremiah thrust his fist out straight ahead of him. "Learn your punches. You have your jab, your right cross, your left cross, and your uppercut."

  He showed me each punch as he described it. I attempted to copy them. It didn't feel right.

  Jeremiah spent quite a few hours trying to teach me what he knew. I admit, I failed miserably. He ended the session in frustration, promising to help me work on them more the next night. I left without confidence.

  In a way, I had been resisting his tutelage. Jeremiah had said so himself, I was an excellent fighter. Labonte obviously thought I had talent as well. I had beaten every man I faced with the skills that I had. Yet here was Jeremiah telling me I needed to change everything about my fighting style; the way I punched, the way I moved, even the way I held my arms. They all felt stiff and unnatural to me.

  Why should I change anything at all? As they were, my skills had bested Jeremiah, and he was supposedly the expert. I resolved to ignore all that Jeremiah had taught me and continue to fight as I had always done.

  I spent the rest of the evening in the company of Rebecca and Lucky, spending liberally, drinking heavily, and celebrating my newfound freedom. I even engaged in a fight with three ruffians at a pub and beat them soundly to the floor. I returned to my home in Soho, where I settled into bed with the comfort of knowing I would awaken to the dawn of a new age in my fledgling life.

  Sunlight awakened me as my eyes opened slowly. I lay there lazily, my thoughts wandering over the events of the night before. My eyes wandered the room, admiring the furniture and decorations that I possessed. Something troubled me and it took a moment in my haze to become aware of the cause.

  My eyes moved of their own accord.

  I tried to look up. Instead, my eyes rolled downwards to my hands. My panic eased somewhat at the fact that I saw my own hairy hands resting on the blanket and not Jekyll's. I was still in my own body. But then the hands rose and turned themselves over on their own.

  Jekyll's Chooses His Fate/The Conviction of Jekyll

  I tried to look up. Instead, my eyes rolled downwards to my hands. My panic eased somewhat at the fact that I saw my own hairy hands resting on the blanket and not Jekyll's. I was still in my own body. But then the hands rose and turned themselves over on their own. It was my body, but I was not in control.

  "What's happening?" my lips whispered. "Where am I?"

  I was not in control. Jekyll was.

  I watched helpless as my body rose and hurried to a mirror in a corner of the bedroom. I looked at the reflection of my form reluctantly - even I did not enjoy the sight of myself - as my face contorted in horror.

  "I am in the body of Hyde," the face whispered. "This is not possible. I went to bed as Henry Jekyll. I did not drink the potion. This is but a nightmare."

  My hands roamed and patted at my chest, face, and arms. "No. It is true. I have changed without the draught."

  He whirled and paced the room, his breathing quickening. "No, no, no. All right, stay calm, Jekyll. Stay calm. I must think. I must remedy this. I need my drugs. But they are at my house. How am I to get to them? The servants will be awake. I can disguise myself. No, they will surely recognise that I am not in the form of their master."

  Jekyll stroked the whiskers of my unshaven face. "But they are accustomed to seeing Hyde about the house. Even at this early hour, it should not be questioned. Yes, I can reach my chemicals."

  He dressed quickly, wrapped a scarf around his face, and hurried out of the house. Jekyll ran through the streets, ignoring the cries of women and children who collided with him.

  He finally hailed a cab and raced through the city of London, finally disembarking at his home. Jekyll headed for the rear entrance, but drew back when he noticed a police officer chatting with a small boy nearby. He could not go through the rear. Jekyll would have to enter through the front door.

  Jekyll went to the front door and pounded on it with his fist. After a moment's pause, Poole opened the door and flinched at the sight of us.

  "Mister Hyde?" Poole asked. "How--"

  Jekyll pushed past Poole to rush into the house.

  He fairly ran through the home, frightening poor Bradshaw the footman along the way. Jekyll charged into the dissecting theatre, up the stairs, and flung himself into the laboratory where he mixed the drug with trembling hands.

  Jekyll gulped it down, and had barely swallowed before he began mixing another dose. As expected, the first had no effect. Yet even when he had finished the second dose, there was no change. Jekyll let out a strangled yell of horror as he began mixing a third dose. His shaking hands spilled some of the white salt that gave the drug its potency and he was forced to measure and mix it again. When he imbibed the third dose, the wretched pain swept over our body and left him shrieking on the floor until he was in the form of Jekyll once more.

  He lay on the floor of the laboratory, gasping for air, wearing the shredded remains of my smaller suit. That was two outfits that we had ruined. I was mildly annoyed at Jekyll for that, but angrier at his commandeering of my body.

  As Jekyll took off the tattered shreds of cloth and put on a fresh suit in his own size that he kept in the laboratory for just such a situation, I pondered this. How had he gained control? It was my body that he had worn, yet used it as his own. I had not thought it possible, that our minds were coupled to our bodies.

  My only conclusion remained that, as the original owner of the body, Jekyll had dominance in both forms. Perhaps I had never truly had control. Perhaps Jekyll had been merely asleep and asserted himself once awakened. The conclusion that Jekyll could control our body, even when I forced a change to myself cast a pall over my plans to remain as Hyde forever.

  Jekyll clearly also pondered the consequences of his experience as he remained mute
throughout his morning, getting changed into his own clothes, and picking vaguely at breakfast. When he at last set his fork aside, Jekyll summoned his carriage and rode to the church.

  There, Jekyll poured out his experiences to Father Stevenson, concluding, "I had thus far taken comfort in the notion that my duality was under control. At any time I chose, I could simply cease taking the drug, and would remain as Jekyll for the remainder of my life. But if I am capable of transforming without the draught, then all is lost. The change is no longer voluntary. What is worse, I required triple the dosage to return to myself. It seems as if Edward Hyde is similar to any other muscle, growing ever stronger the more he is exercised. I fear that one day, the balance of my nature might be permanently overthrown and I shall remain as Hyde forever. Indeed, Hyde's thoughts betray that to be his very intention."

  Father Stevenson rose from his seat, virtually trembling with conviction. "My son, this inexplicable incident seems, like the Babylonian finger on the wall, to be spelling out the letters of your judgment. I advise you to reflect more seriously than ever before on the issues and possibilities of your double existence."

  "You are right, of course, Father. It seems I must choose between the two halves of my soul."

  "It seems rather an obvious choice, my son."

  "One would think so, Father, but you are not troubled by the pleasures of the flesh as I am. Indeed, to remain as Henry Jekyll would be to remain as a weak old man plagued by my sinful desires, desires which have been so recently indulged as to be greater than before. Yet to remain as Hyde would be to live out the remainder of my life as a misfit, forever shunned by Mankind and hounded by the law. No, you are right, Father. I believe I prefer to be the elderly and discontented doctor. I must abandon Hyde."

  Father Stevenson seized hold of Jekyll's shoulders in a paternal embrace. "A wise choice, my son. I am well-pleased with you on this day."

  "Yes. But the fact remains that I must be vigilant to prevent the change once more."