|
Darkness And Light |
Act 2 |
Why is it, that I feel most alive at night? There must be something about the inky darkness that calls to my soul, binding us inextricably together. Or perhaps the attraction lies in my affinity for the other folk that also seem to thrive after dusk; the thieves, the prostitutes, the drunken politicians. Ahh, speaking of politicians, here comes one now.
The man darting out of Magoos turns down an alley and I swiftly follow behind him. This is too perfect. "Excuse me!" I call out jovially. "Arthur Kensington, isn't it?"
"Yes." With an air of suspicion, the old man stops to look at me, his eyes slightly narrowed from behind his spectacles. "What do you want?"
"What do I want?" I repeat, in the same cheerful, conversational tone. "Why, nothing for myself. But Doctor Carter has asked me to give you a message."
"Oh?"
I see I have surprised him, but still hold his attention. "Yes. You are Arthur Kensington, distinguished Board member of Cook County Hospital, are you not?"
"I am."
"Pity. For you."
In one swift motion, I withdraw my sword from its concealed scabbard and plunge it into the gentleman's throat. I am not satisfied until it sinks to the hilt. His eyes are wild with shock and pain; a strangled gurgling in his throat as crimson blood spews forth in a gushing flood. I yank out the sword and he crumples to the ground, twitching for several seconds before becoming still. Mesmerized by the sight, I stare at my handiwork for a while, delighted by the growing pool of blood that spreads from his mangled throat. Is that me laughing?
Replacing my sword in its sheath, I step over the body and whistle a tune, as my footsteps echo down the alleyway.
***************
October 7 7:05 p.m.
I am starting to lose control of the experiment. Truman is gaining more power and I am afraid of losing myself. Am I being absorbed into Truman or he into me? I have no concrete memories of what he has done but I have dreams. Unspeakable nightmares filled with screams and blood. Blood that flows like an endless river, threatening to drown me. Though I fear I am going mad, I cannot bring myself to stop. Not just yet. If only the pharmacy would deliver those drugs! I am sure the new formula will work. I cannot leave the house, for fear the transformations will overtake me at any time. I could not live with myself if I hurt anyone I care for.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Someone is approaching. I turn my head to find a familiar face coming towards me, his brow furrowed with concern.
"Thank you for coming," I say, hurriedly pressing a slip of paper into his hands. "This is a list of the new drugs I need. Please go as quickly as you can."
Peter Benton frowns, first at the crumpled paper in his hand, then at me. "Hold on a moment. You refuse to see me for days, then I get a frantic message to come here. I need to know what is going on."
"And I need those drugs! I cannot go to the pharmacy myself. I need your help, Doctor Benton."
"Why? Why can you not go? Are you ill?" He steps closer, scrutinizing me in a fashion that makes me want to hide in the shadows. "You do look pale. Agitated." His voice softens slightly, his concern coming to the forefront again. "Something is wrong. Terribly wrong. Tell me."
I shake my head, pleading with my eyes. "I can't. Not now. Right now I need you to obtain those drugs. Please!"
Staring at me with an unreadable expression, he purses his lips. "Fine. I'll go. But I need some sort of explanation when I return. Everyone is worried about you and with good reason, I see."
Relieved when he finally goes on his way, all I can do is sit and wait. A sudden twisting of my gut wrenches a gasp from my throat. I double over in the chair, consumed with pain. It is happening again, out of my control...I can't stop it...
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
I concentrate on each inhalation and exhalation of air; the very breath of life. How fragile it is. Able to be snuffed out of others with one squeeze of my bare hands.
All light has been extinguished from the room, save for one lamp set on a low flame. Now and then it stutters and flickers, casting strange and elongated images on the walls.
"John?" calls out a voice from above. "Are you there?"
"He is not," I answer.
After a hesitation, the man descends the steps slowly. "Who are you?" His tone is demanding; one that is accustomed to receiving quick replies.
"A colleague of Doctor Carter."
"Colleague? What is your name?"
"Nathan Truman."
Cautiously, the man approaches me, his eyes flashing with suspicion. "He's never mentioned you. Where is he?"
"Out," I reply shortly. "He asks that you leave the drugs with me, Doctor Benton."
He looks startled that I know his name. But he is a stubborn fellow. "I won't give them to anyone but John."
Leaping from the chair, I advance on him and he shrinks back, eyes wide. "Don't be a fool, Doctor! Hand them over."
"I will not. Stay back, sir! What have you done with John?" He looks around him, as if expecting to see a fallen body on the floor.
So the good friend fears for Carter's life. As well he should. I am the one in control now. "Is it John you want then?" I taunt, my voice a low growl. "I'll give you your precious John." Grabbing the package from Benton's hands, I tear into it, pushing him away as he tries to stop me. I hear him unsheath his sword before I see it. Spinning around, I meet him head on, but he is no match for my overpowering strength. Wrenching the sword from his hand, I aim the tip for his throat. "Take care, Benton, unless you want to end up like the others." He steps back and I place the sword on the work bench, within easy reach. It takes me less than a minute to fill the syringe with the newly provided drugs. "Watch and learn," I hiss, plunging the needle into my thigh. Staggering on my feet, I manage to remain upright until the excrutiating pain overcomes me. With a ragged cry, I drop to the floor.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The roar in my ears grows dimmer and the pain starts to dissipate. Gasping, I begin to raise myself from the floor. A face swims into my vision and blinking furiously, I am horrified when recognition sets in. "Doctor Benton!"
"Oh my God. My God, John!" He sounds equally stunned, shaking his head in disbelief. "What have you done to yourself?"
So he knows. He must have witnessed my transformation. I take the offered hand and rise to my feet, trying to control the residual tremors that run through me. "Now you know. I am the subject of my own experiment."
"One that has obviously gotten out of hand!" Peter exclaims. "Are you even aware of what just happened?"
"No. I don't know the things that Truman does. At least, not completely. I think on some level, I must know. I...have dreams."
"Well, he held that sword to my throat!" Pointing at the weapon on the table, he glares at me. "And I tell you, by the look in his eye, he would have liked nothing better than to see my blood spilled."
Visibly trying to calm down, he takes several breaths, finally sitting down in the nearby chair. He stares at me, contemplating my countenance. "It's the strangest thing," he says slowly. "When I looked at Nathan Truman, there was such evil and menace in his face. A madness. I did not once recognize that it was you. And yet, when I look at you now, I see a hint of the madman in you. In your eyes. And I know that some part of you must have been in Truman too."
It is the truth, but I do not want to hear it from him. "I can still control this. With these new drugs, I should be able to..."
"No, John, you have gone too far!" he interrupts me vehemently, reminding me of my younger days when he often reprimanded me. "You cannot hope to control the monster you have created. It's too risky. Not only for yourself, but others in your life. What if Lucy had been here? Think of what could have happened!"
"But it didn't happen. It won't happen!"
"What about the others that have already been killed?"
"What...what others?" I stammer.
"Three members of the Board have all been mysteriously murdered, all in the past week. Are you telling me you didn't know?"
An icicle of fear seems to stab me in the back, leaving me breathless. "No, I...I didn't know. But that does not necessarily mean Truman is behind it!"
"I don't have solid proof. That is true," he admits. "But when you, sorry, when Truman was threatening me with the sword, he said, 'take care, Benton, unless you want to end up like the others'."
Though my heart still wants to protest, I am steadily losing ground. It must be true. But my mind rebels against the notion that my own hands could have committed murder. "I can't believe it," I mutter. "I don't want to believe it." The thought sickens me, nausea curling through my belly.
"What do your dreams tell you?" he asks me softly.
Dreams filled with blood, mayhem, powerful hunger, visions of death, slit throats, lust and desire.
The last thought gives me pause. Desire...for Lucy? No...with dread, I sense that Abby is the target of Truman's desire. How exactly I know this, I cannot say. But I realize she is in grave danger. "You are right, Doctor Benton, I will put an end to this. Somehow. But first, you must do something else for me." Going to my desk, I write a hasty letter and stuff it into an envelope, along with a bit of money. I hand this over to him and he gives me an inquisitive look. "Go to Magoos and give this to Abby Lockheart. Do you remember her?"
"Yes, but...why?"
"I think she's in danger. From Truman. I just need your word that you will do this."
"All right. You have my word."
"Thank you."
Walking with him as far as the steps, I give him my final promise. "The experiment ends tonight. You have *my* word on that. I only hope you understand why I did it. What I fought so hard for."
He clasps my shoulder in a firm grip. "I know, John. I'm the one who encouraged you not to give up, remember? I know."
He climbs the stair, closing the door behind him. I make my way to the spare room, collapsing onto the cot. I only intend to rest for a few minutes. I am so weary. A few minutes are all I need.
***************
The crash of shattering glass wakes me abruptly. Someone is in the laboratory! Bolting upright, I run from the spare room to find Lucy gazing at me with a decidedly guilty expression, a book in her hands. After recovering from the surprise, I belatedly realize she is holding my journal.
"What do you think you're doing!" I roar, causing her to flinch. Stalking over to her, I grab the book out of her hands. "This is private!"
"I'm sorry. The door was open so I came in, looking for you. I didn't intend to read it, I just..."
"How much did you read?" I demand, cutting her off in mid-sentence.
"The...the last entry," she sputters, her eyes pleading for understanding. "I am so sorry, John. I have no excuse. Except that I have been worried sick about you and, well, I feel so cut out of your life. We used to share everything, including your work, and now I can only wonder what you have been doing. I don't know...I feel like I'm losing you. Please, I'm so sorry. Forgive me." Her voice finally breaking, she dissolves into tears. The fact that I have only seen her cry on very rare occasions tells me that I have wounded her deeply. I feel like an absolute heel.
Tossing the book onto the table, I gather her into my arms. "Shhh, it's all right," I croon, stroking her back. "Please don't cry. It breaks my heart."
Her shudders soon subside and she remains in my embrace, sniffling against my shoulder. "I truly am sorry," she says finally. "I should not have read it."
"Apology accepted. But only if you will accept mine. I'm sorry if I frightened you."
"You didn't. Well, you may have startled me. But you could never frighten me."
I take her hand and lead her to a bench, where we may both sit. "I have something to tell you. Perhaps I should have told you from the very beginning but I wanted to protect you and in a way, I suppose, protect myself. After the Board turned down my proposal for the forumula, I tested it on myself."
She inhales sharply, her gaze fixed on mine. "Go on."
"I don't want to go into all the details but, let's just say, it has been a failure. The evil is too difficult to control. So I am going to end the experiment."
"I see. Is that all you are going to tell me?"
"It's all that I can bring myself to tell you right now. Maybe...one day..." My voice trails off as I silently hope she will accept my meager explanation.
She does not disappoint me. "All right. It's a good thing I'm such a patient woman." She smiles at me, with gentle humour. "I had better go. Father is waiting on dinner."
Taking advantage of our solitude, we kiss, keeping the moment sweet and light. Neither of us are in the mood to intensify the situation. Not tonight.
After seeing Lucy to the door, I take care to lock it, shutting myself in once more. Before I even reach the bottom of the stairs, it begins again. "No," I groan, doubling over in agony. I must get to the drugs! Stumbling along, yet somehow remaining on my feet, I reach the edge of the table. Another piercing pain rips through me. "No, no, no..."
And the nightmare begins again.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Walking through the crowded room, I ignore the sounds of drunken men; some arguing, some laughing and others making a general fool of themselves. I have eyes for only one woman and just as I suspect, she is sitting in a far corner, alone. Even with her back towards me, I can recognize her by the hunch of her shoulders, the curve of her supple neck.
"Good evening, Abby."
With a startled gasp, she looks up at me. I am troubled to see hope, followed by disappointment in her eyes. "I almost thought you were someone else," she murmurs.
"Expecting someone, were you?"
"No. I mean, I thought there was a chance..." She trails off with a slight sigh. "Who am I kiddin'? No, there's nobody comin' for me."
Without waiting for an invitation, I sit across from her. "But I am here."
The faltering smile on her face is a strange mixture of sadness and bitterness. "So I notice. Why are you here?"
"To see you, of course. What are you reading?" I nod towards the wrinkled paper she is holding. Though I am not sure, it appears to be a letter.
"Nothin'."
She hastily folds it in two and slips it into her skirt pocket. Though her secretive act irritates me, I try not to let it show. Better to be on my best behaviour right now. Reaching across the wooden table, I take her hand. Though she initially attempts to pull away, I gently increase the pressure and she submits, allowing me to stroke her fingers. "I came to apologize for my behaviour the other night. I know I hurt you. I got carried away and I'm sorry."
She gives me a guarded look, as though she doesn't quite believe me. "I'll say you got carried away. I'm probably goin' to have scars."
My expression is contrite and perhaps not entirely false. It is a pity to mar such beautiful skin. But I cannot deny that part of me also took great pleasure in her pain. "I promise, it will never happen again. I don't know what came over me. You have an effect on me, Abby. When I am near you, I lose control and it's not enough to be close to you. I long to be inside of you. To know you completely."
Staring at me, her lips part and then close again, a rosy flush glowing on her cheeks. "Don't say such things," she whispers.
"Why not? It's the truth. And I will always be truthful to you."
"What do you want from me?"
"Another chance. Please, love, don't turn me away."
Confusion reigns in her eyes, but I see a glimmer of excitement too. And a longing, for I know she wants to believe me. At last, she makes her decision. "One more chance."
"That is all I ask."
She leads the way and I follow her upstairs, the stairs creaking with noisy protest. It is dark and dirty in the hallway, a musty odour assailing my sensitive nose. After we enter her room, she closes and locks the door and then lights a single candle. Thankfully, she keeps her room fairly clean and neat. I cannot abide filth.
We can hear the dim echo of rowdy laughter coming from the revellers below but within the walls of this room, there is only the sound of our shallow breaths. Wordlessly, I take her in my arms, my mouth closing on hers. The kiss is in turns hot, sweet, wet and delicious. My hands start to roam of their own accord, slipping over her breasts, across her waist and hips. The rustling of something beneath my hand distracts me and then curiosity gets the better of me. Dipping into the pocket of her skirt, I withdraw the letter in a quick motion, breaking our embrace. Unfolding it as I turn away from her, I briefly scan it, frowning. I know this writing.
She attempts to grab it from me, but I easily dodge her efforts. "Give it back!" she cries angrily. "That's mine!"
"Indeed." I start to read aloud. "'Dearest Abby. I am sorry to write this in haste but I must be brief. Do not, under any circumstances, trust Nathan Truman. He is dangerous. Evil. I am afraid he will try to hurt you. Please take this money and leave the city. Start a new life somewhere. Remember, you deserve every happiness and kindness. I hope you find it. Yours, John Carter'."
We stare at each other, neither one of us moving an inch. She does not seem concerned but rather, appears to be in a dream-like state. "Can you...read it again to me?" she asks softly.
Only then do I realize she is illiterate. What a shame. If she had only comprehended the letter earlier, she most likely would not have permitted me access to her room. "Which part do you want to hear again? That I am evil? Dangerous? Which part, Abby?" As I advance on her, crumpling the letter in one fist, she seems to snap out of her trance. Backing away from me, she soon has nowhere to go, pressed against the wall. "How long have you been seeing Carter, hmmm?"
"I...I haven't been seein' him!"
"Liar! The truth is in this letter. And in your eyes. That was love I just saw in your eyes when I read the letter to you. You're in love with him!"
"No, I..." Abruptly halting her protest, she fixes me with a defiant glare. "Well, so what if I am! It doesn't mean anythin' anyway. He's in love with someone else. We could never be together, him and I."
The rage has been building in me, but Abby seems blissfully unaware of it. How is it that Carter, though engaged and unavailable, can still win her heart? Abby is mine and always will be. I'll make sure of that.
"Do you believe what he says about me?" I ask, watching her carefully.
She looks unsure. "I don't know."
"And will you do as he suggests? Leave the city?"
"I don't know. I don't know what to think!"
Another thought comes to me, causing my blood to boil over. "It was him you were hoping to see tonight, wasn't it. When I first came to you."
Though she doesn't reply aloud, the look in her eyes gives all the answer I need. My thin veneer of control snaps. Reaching under my coat, my hand closes around the handle of the knife. As my arm swings out high and wide, she sees the dull glint of metal reflected in the candlelight. With eyes bright in horror and fear, she opens her mouth to scream. She is silenced by the plunging blade of the knife that tears into her slender throat.
As I step back, her body crumples to the floor in a broken heap. At once, I feel hot and cold chills coursing through me, my emotions sky-high. "You want to see him, Abby?" I exclaim, uncontrollable laughter escaping from my lips. "Come see what you have done, Doctor Carter."
Turning inside of myself, I disappear from the world.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
My senses seem to come to me slowly. I am first aware of my beating heart, then the coldness of the floor, then an all too familiar coppery smell.
As I slowly raise myself up on elbows, my gaze falls on the shape of a body, surrounded by an ever-widening pool of blood. My God, what has Truman gotten me into now? Doctor Benton was right.
Crawling over, trying to avoid the slick pool, I pull at the unknown shoulder until the head lolls back, revealing a face.
"Oh no. Dear God, no!"
Fighting a swell of nausea, I struggle not to heave the contents of my stomach onto the already stained floor. With a hand that shakes so badly I am afraid it will be useless, I try to find a pulse at her wrist. The neck is usually the better area to take a pulse from but in this case, it is so badly damaged...
Swallowing again, I force my gaze away from her throat to concentrate on what I am doing. I will myself to feel the faintest flutter at my fingertips, signalling a sign of life.
There is nothing. The amount of blood spilled on the floor indicate she has bled to death.
"Forgive me, Abby."
Hot tears spring to my eyes, and I have to clamp a hand to my mouth to strangle the sobs threatening to overwhelm me. I cannot fall apart now. Not just yet.
My eyes spy the knife a few feet away. I recognize it, of course, since it is my own. I automatically reach for it and place it in the sheath beneath my coat. Only then does it dawn on me that should I be discovered now, I will be blamed for this. For murdering Abby.
But I *have* murdered her, my tortured mind reasons. Yes, Truman is to blame, but he is a part of me. I cannot deny that. He is the evil that has always lurked inside of me. And now he has escaped, is alive and free, with a will of his own. I cannot control him.
But there is a way. Yes, if I consume all of the drugs that Doctor Benton obtained for me today, I should be able to suppress Truman completely. I can put a stop to this madness.
I must get out of here. No one must see me leave.
With a palm pressed to the wall for support, I get to my feet. My eyes fall upon another item on the floor; a crumpled piece of paper. Before I even pick it up, I know what this is. My letter to Abby. Bending down, I place it safely in my pocket, for I cannot afford to leave it behind.
Opening the door a crack, I peek into the hallway. It is empty. Looking back down at her, guilt gnaws at me, straight through to the bone. How can I just leave her here like this? What kind of man am I? But I must get back to the laboratory and the last of the drugs. Truman must be stopped before he hurts anyone else.
Slipping into the hallway, I close the door behind me and make my way downstairs. Keeping my head down, no one seems to notice me, for they are too intent on their carousing. Once outside, I fight the urge to run and instead, walk quickly. I'm not sure if the tremors that surge through me are due to the chilly air or the shock of finding Abby's body.
Steven has already retired for the night, and I feel more calm once I am back in the laboratory with the door securely locked. It is almost over. Willing my hands to remain steady, I work as quickly as I can, and soon have three full syringes.
Before injecting the first one, I suddenly think of my father. Not only have I failed him, but all the others I naively thought I could help. My intentions were good. Pure. But it was not meant to be. Without further hesitation, I empty the syringe into my arm. I reach for the second one.
Did you think it would be that easy?
Sweat pops out on my forehead. *Shut up! Soon you will disappear.*
You can never kill me. I live inside you!
My hand trembles and I cannot concentrate. *I won't let you hurt anyone else.*
It was you who hurt them. You are me.
Desperation seizes me and I almost drop the syringe. *No! It's not true!*
You know it's true. Don't deny it. I will live inside you forever!
I finally inject the second syringe, ripping the needle out of my arm. *No, no, no, no...*
Yes! I cannot be destroyed, Carter! Never!
Searing pain and fire rip through me, devouring me. *Damn you! I will destroy you. Even if I must destroy myself!*
You can try but you won't succeed. I am the stronger one!
With shuddering breaths, I inject the final syringe. *We shall see.*
Gasping and unaware of the tears streaming down my face, I slump to the floor. Consciousness is fading and for now, the voices are blessedly silent.
============================
ONE MONTH LATER
Everyone appears to be having a grand time. Wine and conversation flows freely, the air often punctuated with laughter.
Lucy looks incredibly lovely. Whenever our eyes meet, I can see the love reflected in them. The feeling it invokes in me is indescribable.
It seems I have not had one minute alone today. After another congratulatory shake of the hand, I retreat to a more quiet area and Peter soon approaches me.
"You look terrible," he says bluntly.
"Well, thank you very much. How kind of you to notice," I say mildly, faintly amused.
He goes on to list my ailments. "You have obviously lost weight and look exhausted. And even though today is supposed to be the happiest day of your life, you look as if you are carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. But the worst is in your eyes. They are tortured, John."
Growing uncomfortable now, my gaze slides away from his. "You exaggerate. I am perfectly fine."
"Don't lie to me. Not to me."
"Doctor Benton, please! Do not speak to me of this today, of all days. I *am* happy. With Lucy by my side, I feel strong and able to accomplish anything."
He regards me thoughtfully, his voice quiet and solemn. "I hope so. For your sake."
"So this is where you are hiding," states a familiar voice. I look down to find Lucy by my side. Though she is smiling, she also shows a hint of concern. "Is everything all right?"
"Yes, fine, my love," I assure her.
"Well, then, may I have this next dance?" She gives Peter a teasing look. "I hope you don't mind if I steal him away."
He bows gracefully. "Not at all, Mrs. Carter."
Taking my hand, she leads me to the central area where others are dancing to a waltz. Joining in, we are soon twirling across the floor.
"I love the sound of that," she says dreamily.
"What? This song?"
"No, silly man. My new name. 'Mrs. Carter'." She smiles up at me, her look coquettish. "I want to hear you say it."
I chuckle softly. "You have heard me."
"Say it again, then."
"All right, *Mrs. Carter*. How was that?"
"Oh, yes, it sounds even nicer when you say it."
I laugh out loud. She has always been able to make me laugh.
A sudden wave of dizziness causes my footing to stumble, and we abruptly come to a halt. I bring my hand to my temple, as bursts of shooting pain seem to explode behind my eyes. I hear Lucy's voice, as if from a great distance. "John, what's wrong?"
The familiar sensation begins to rise within me and my mind frantically rebels against it. Please, God, do not let this happen here. Not in front of her. Please!
Spinning away from her, I stagger towards the edge of the room, trying to search for Peter. Somehow, he appears before me, his face etched with worry. "What is it?" he asks in a hushed tone.
"Please get me out of here," I moan. "It's starting."
"Oh God."
He needs no explanation, for he must surely remember witnessing my transformation, with vivid detail. Taking hold of my arm, he tries to guide me away from the crowd. Others are becoming aware that something is amiss, and I feel their stares and pointing fingers upon me.
Lucy calls out to me and her small hand settles on my shoulder. "Are you ill? Tell me what's happening! Doctor Benton, what is going on?"
Though I can still hear her, reality seems to be fading away. There is a strange buzzing in my head.
"I need to take him outside. Please, stay here."
"I will not! Look at his face. Something is terribly wrong. I think he is going to collapse. Can you hear me? John?"
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"John?"
"There is no John." My voice is a low and threatening snarl. "Only Nathan Truman!"
Upset to find Benton's hands upon me, I throw them off. I take a menacing step towards him and he wisely backs away.
"What is going on here?" demands Charles Knight, marching towards me.
"What is going on?" I repeat, my tone dripping with scorn. "Why nothing, sir. Just a bit of fun."
"What on earth has gotten into you?" He stares at me, as if he has never seen me before. "Are you drunk?"
The question makes me laugh. The sound rings out around the room, as everyone gazes at me with stunned silence. It appears I have their complete and utter attention. Spreading out my arms, I grin at them. "I don't need wine to make me drunk. This is the real me! Do not let Carter fool you!"
"He's insane," I hear someone whisper.
"Someone should put him in the asylum, right next to his father," someone else agrees.
"Quiet!" Charles orders. He then grabs my arm. That is a mistake. "Enough, John. Pull yourself together!"
"Stop calling me John," I warn. "Before I tear you apart!" With deadly intent, I lunge for his throat, aiming to wrap my hands around his neck.
Several women scream and numerous hands clutch at my jacket, pulling me backwards before I can do any damage. My strength overpowers them all and I am able to wrestle out of their grasp. The momentum throws me against a nearby table and I spot my weapon of choice lying beside the wedding cake. Scooping it up, I whirl around and brandish the knife in front of me, effectively forcing the men to retreat.
I am so caught up in the moment, I do not even notice the small figure until she creeps up beside me. "I know what is happening," she tells me quietly, her gaze steady.
"Ahhh, you think you have figured it out?" I taunt with derision. "Tell me, sweet Lucy, what is happening?"
"You are the evil inside of John. But I know his goodness is stronger. You cannot win."
She states this with such conviction, I almost feel unsure of myself. And the very fact that she can cause me doubt makes me want to lash out at her. Drawing a snake-like arm around her waist, I yank her towards me, until our faces are mere inches apart. I touch the tip of the knife against her throat and more screams and shouts fill the air.
"Stop! Don't hurt her!" Charles cries out.
I hear someone unsheathe their sword, and glance up to find Benton standing at the ready, his eyes wide and fierce. "Let her go!" he demands.
"John, please." I look down at Lucy's tear-filled eyes. "I know you can hear me," she whispers. "You have to fight him."
Something is lurching inside of me, crawling to escape. *Kill her!*
NO!
*Yes, do it! Do it now!*
NOOOO!!
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Blinking, I shake my head. My bleary vision comes into focus and I am staring down into her face. Her lips are trembling and she is clearly afraid. Then, a flicker of hope brightens her gaze. "John, is it you?"
My own gaze travels to the knife I am wielding. The one I am holding to her throat. "Oh, dear God," I mutter, throwing the knife to the floor. "I tried to kill you." I cannot hide the despair in my voice.
Lucy tries to put her arms around me. "No, you stopped him! You have won."
I turn away from her embrace, horrified at what I have almost done. I don't deserve her tenderness. I don't deserve to live.
Swaying on my feet, fearing I may pass out, I fall to my knees in front of Peter. "Do it, please. I cannot live like this."
His head jerks from side to side, the sword in his hand shaking. "I can't."
"Please, Doctor Benton," I beg.
"I can't do it, John!" he cries.
Exhaustion overcomes me and I make my decision. Grabbing the blade of the sword and throwing myself forward, it pierces my chest. A breath-taking pain fills me, but I know it is the last pain I will ever feel again.
Murmuring voices fill my senses but I cannot comprehend what anyone is saying - except Lucy. Somehow, my failing ears attune to her voice. I hear her agonized scream. My head is cradled in her lap. Soft hands brush against my brow. I wish I could see her face one last time, but my vision is no longer there. Something wet upon my cheek. I imagine she is crying. Or is that me?
"Lucy..."
"Please don't leave me."
"Lucy..."
"I love you, John."
"Lu - "
"Rest now, my love. I will stay with you until you fall asleep."
Sleep. A dreamless and peaceful sleep with no more nightmares to haunt me. At last, I can rest.
Completed June 2001
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