Marcus brought him to an Inn with fineries he had not seen in years. He spoke of Mary who had long since married, as the year was 1810. She had mourned and waited considerably longer than was expected of her. Hanna’s father wrote of a pain in his chest he had never experienced. It was a pain that ripped through him, destroying the man he had been. He was left the cold and solitary man, she had known nearly all her life.
Marcus then offered him a deal. As he was numb and closed off, he accepted without thought. What did he care what happened to him when everything had been lost? It would be the fresh start he needed to redeem himself. He suspected he was guilty of many crimes at the end of the eighth journal. Perhaps too many crimes to be redeemed, but he would try in Mary's honor.
The ninth and final journal was a rebirth for her father. He seemed determined again. He started his experiments again in a new lab in Paris, which Marcus had built it for him. He tried to create a new elixir, one that would stop the changes he was aware of. He asked Marcus to watch him in the night, watch him sleep. He believed it was when he became the monster he assumed himself to be.
Marcus confirmed his worst fears, in his sleep he transformed into something Marcus troubled at explaining. He roared, attempting to escape the chains and shackles he had donned before sleep every night.
His clothes had ripped, his skin had stretched and he had become something he would call his alter ego, Mr. Hyde.
She put the journal down.
"Mr. Hyde?" She spoke her skepticism allowed to no one.
She looked around the room.
In disbelief, she continued reading.
His first elixir had worked in creating a man who was more, but in the attempt he separated his good from evil. He had made himself something unnatural. He recalled the many times he had woken in the hall of his home or on the step of his back door, covered in blood. He recalled his tattered clothing.
Some nights the blood on his clothing had been his own. He believed Hyde was trying to kill them both. His only chance at survival had been the blood of the young Baron. It had healing properties her father had yet to experiment with.
He knew what he had done, the murders in London had his name upon them.
Marcus disagreed convincing him that he had no responsibility for what his alter ego did. He could only take the blame for what he did as a waking man.
Her father listened to reason but knew deep inside he was to blame and the guilt would rule his life for nearly two hundred years.
She put down the ninth journal. She felt sadness and confusion but she knew at least what had happened to her friend. The dreams were real, they were memories. She knew she had murdered Rebecca. Regardless of the fact her father wrote the words alter ego, she could not let go of the pain and guilt that wreaked havoc on her heart. Heaving sobs shook her.
Roland entered the room with a tea and a box of tissue, “You must see it is not your fault.”
"I have schizophrenia. I've murdered her like my father did in London. I'm a monster like he was. You need to lock me up."
"No my dear. It's not what you think at all."
She shook heaving, she felt as her father had. She remembered the smallest thing about her friend. Hanna remembered her smile, her tears over a broken heart only six months prior, learning to skate, laughing at the horror movies they had shared a love for.
Her friend would never grow up, would never marry, would never have children, she would never become the nurse she always wanted to be. Hanna smiled softly recalling how odd Rebecca was. When everyone wanted to be a princess or figure skater or veterinarian, Rebecca had wanted to be a nurse.
Hanna knew it stemmed back to her older brothers death. Rebecca had been four when her brother Tyler died of Leukemia. The nurses became part of her family, they lived at the hospital with him for nearly a year as he slowly declined. Only the nurses brought a smile to his face. Only the nurses knew the smallest sweetest things to make him happy, when the pain became too much for an eight year old to bear.
Hanna cried wishing it had been her, if only it had been her. She wished for death and wondered why her father had never just killed himself?
Roland rubbed her back softly, he stayed quiet, just as she needed him to. Slowly she became what her father had, a shell of a human.
"I want you to commit me. I need to stand trial for the murder."
Roland took her hand. He led her down a hallway to a room. She shivered as he helped her sit.
He flicked the lights off and walked away.
She heard nothing but her breath as she sat alone in the dark.
Suddenly light filled the room from a projector.
A black and white movie began to play on the wall in front of her. Hanna looked around for Roland, but saw that she sat alone in the room.
The movie was of her father. He stood in a boxing ring with a man. The other man had his back to her. Her father nodded as the man swung out violently and struck her father in the face. He was knocked back. She gasped. The man ran from the view of the camera quickly.
He father staggered slightly and then began to tremble. The camera got closer to him as his skin began to crawl. She felt as if she were trapped inside of a horror movie as his legs began to grow. He fell back onto the mats. She closed her eyes as his clothes began to tear away from his expanding body.
It was special effects, she was certain it was.
She peaked through her fingers, as suddenly where her father had stood, a giant monster took his place. It's face and body was hideous. It bulged muscles from every limb. It looked around, it realized there was a camera on it. It ran after the camera, which dropped instantly.
The movie stopped as it closed in on the monsters face. She looked at the eyes, they were his, there was no doubt.
She sobbed.
Chapter Three: How do you say stupid in Americano
The days turned to weeks before she knew it.
The video had proved it. She had made Roland play it over and over. He was a monster, her father was a monster. He had created her and she had turned out like him.
She felt as if she watched herself withdraw, growing mad just as her father had. She wondered to herself what had brought him back from the brink? Had it been her mother? She recalled him laughing, she recalled him smiling. They were few and far between the memories of such things, but she remembered them just the same. She remembered his face when she lost her first tooth, he had seemed overjoyed in the smallest things.
“You must stop this nonsense, your aunt and uncle have filed missing person reports and are declaring you dead to the police as your friend is. They have filed to have you declared dead.”
She looked up from the oversized brown chair not even realizing she were in the study. She looked out the window wondering when the trees had turned brown?
“I wish that I were.” Her words were as empty as her heart.
“That is nonsense and we both know it. Yes your friend died as you changed. Yes your other you might have been the one to kill her but it was an accident.” He walked to her, kneeling on the ground before her. Worry filled his eyes so deeply she couldn’t see his face beyond them, “Yes it is the worst thing that could possibly have happened. Yes.”
He shook her slightly, “If he had known you were like him even slightly he would have taught you about it. Your blood showed nothing of the sickness. Something has triggered this, don’t you want to know what made you this way?” His eyes filled with something else, anger, “Don’t you want to know who made you the way you are?”
She looked at him suddenly realizing he was right, “Yes.”
He stood, “Your father has tested your blood every year since you were born and never has it shown the slightest mutation. You were normal. It is possible this was dormant and awaiting a catalyst. Honestly though you've gone through the change he feared the most, Puberty. He assumed it would be puberty that changed you. But you've gone through puberty, you’ve grown up, nothing has changed until two months ago. When I brought you here that night I checked your blood. It has changed, it is his blood now. Someone has to have known they could turn you and how.”
She looked at him biting her lip, trying desperately to recall what had happened.
She remembered nothing, the days surrounding the fateful night were still blank.
“Will I change again?”
He nodded, “Yes but it will be slow like it was for your father. We only have him to compare to but his changes were several months apart in the beginning. Then when he started taking the elixirs he never changed.”
“I will shower and we will go see my aunt and uncle.”
His lips tightened.
She frowned, “What aren’t you telling me?”
He sighed, “They will think it was you, whatever happened to her they will blame you. You have been gone a while, missing since the night your best friend died. Not to mention you were the last person to see her alive. They will blame you.”
"I am to blame. I deserve to be sent to prison."
"You will never find out who triggered this from prison. What happens if you change in prison Hanna? They will experiment on you. The government would use someone like you. Your father dealt with this all his life."
She nodded, “You're right. What can I do then?”
He looked sickened, “I have an idea.”
****
Sounds filled the air around her suddenly, as the cold air clung to her. She could see the blue and red lights flashing. She could feel the warmth of something touching her arm, as a voice spoke, “It will be alright.”
She glanced around dazed, her head hurt where Roland had bashed it with his flashlight. Her hand shook as she tried to lift it to her head, to feel where the warm liquid dripped.
The person, lifting her and wrapping her in a blanket, spoke softly, “Miss Holland everything will be alright.”
She felt his warm strong arms lift her up into him. He pulled her close to his chest. She felt everything coming back, Roland's ridiculous plan seemed to be working.
“I’m confused.” She whispered. Something about the man carrying her was making her body feel odd. She leaned into him more, as he carried her out of the woods.
