Prompt 4C - Melancholy
Violence, but not really graphic...
The amber liquid burned down his throat, settling warmly in his stomach. Henry Jekyll did not drink but tonight...tonight he had reason. He had waited outside that church and watched, the people all smiles and happiness and joy, not unlike that other day, not so long ago. They hadn't noticed him, then again why should they have done? Lisa looking for all the world that the princess that she should be, that he should have made her, and Stride looking like the cat who had gotten the cream. It made him sick... the whole thing made him sick.
Again he tipped the bottle backwards, feeling his head spin and the world lurch about him; he would not be able to do what he had to on a clear head. He threw the now empty contained away from him, the glass shatteringly almost soothingly against the floor, casting multi-coloured shards out from it's centre like starlight. Taking a deep breath he got unsteadily to his feet, grabbing his cloak and hat and cane from the hook in the corner before switching out the light and leaving.
He wandered along the street, a tune on his lips, his movements uncoordinated but he didn't care. His mind worked overtime, his fingers squeezing the top of his cane in a bid to keep still. It didn't take long for him to find the house, a path he had traced so many times before he could do it blindfolded, or blind drunk. He looked up at the house with a strange kind of longing; it should have been him in there, with her, making her as happy as she could possibly be. But it wasn't.
"Lisa!" he screamed at the top of his voice, his tone sounding decisively normal to his ear.
Nothing happened, no one moved, no sound... nothing.
"Lisa, please!" he screamed again, not caring what people thought of him, not caring if she shouted at him, not caring if he got turned away but she would listen to what he had to say, he would make her see.
Quietly the door opened, a lone figure came out, gliding across the cobbles as if she was a ghost… all dressed in white, her veil flowing behind her. Henry could do nothing but stare as she walked towards him, her face unreadable, her manner stiff.
“Henry…what are you doing here, making this-this scene?” she hissed, her face creeping slowly with an anger he knew she was keeping tightly reigned in. It wasn’t proper for a gentlewoman to be angry anymore than it was for a gentleman to be in this state. Henry cared little about neither.
“Lisa please…” he said again, his voice lowering considerably now she was in front of him, his bravado quickly dwindling.
“Henry, you shouldn’t be here, I’m a married woman. It’s wrong for me to be…”
“You think I don’t know that? You think I didn’t see that?” his voice becoming even more quiet, but there was a coldness there that Lisa wasn’t sure was his or another’s.
“He will be out soon, looking for me…” she turned her head ever so slightly towards the door of the house, which was ajar a little, the soft candlelight spilling out into the driveway.
“I…I love you Lisa, I never stopped loving you…” he felt the slow burn of tears as they entered his eyes, the drink mellowing to leave the pain and nothing of the pleasure he had felt before.
“But I am married, Henry…” Henry noticed that she flinched ever so slightly despite herself. Was it remotely possible that she still loved him? Henry held onto the hope with all his strength. She had to… she had suffered a lot, with their wedding and the subsequent aftermath, the scandal that she would have had to endure that had tarnished her family name and sent Henry into hiding… it was always worse for women; people talked.
“We could run away… I could make it all up to you… you don’t love him, I know that you don’t! Please, tell me that you don’t…” it was almost a plea, torn out from his heart as he laid his heart bare to the woman whom he loved more than anything. “Please, tell me that you don’t…” he whispered again, the tears falling freely down his cheeks, illuminated in the moonlight above.
“I love him Henry, I married him Henry…” she whispered, and Henry fancied he heard a flicker in her voice, in the way her body reacted.
The door opened and a shadow was cast on the cobbles, a voice, sure and steadfast into the darkness.
“Lisa? Where are you my love?” Stride made his way out, the top two buttons on his shirt undone, his tie loosened and his shirt tails untucked from his trousers. Spotting his wife he made his way up towards her, a smile on his face. He did not see Henry rush him, did not even notice he was there until he found himself up against the stone wall, the mortar crumbling around him, sending dust into the air.
“Why?” Henry said, the grip around Stride’s collars holding him upwards shaking yet strong, Henry’s tears soaking into his jacket sleeves. “Why did you take everything I had? Why did you take her?“
Stride laughed, his face breaking into that same old easy grin that had infuriated both Henry and Hyde - the mere fact that he thought he could take anything he wanted from him, that he could take her and think that there wouldn’t be reprisals.
“Because Doctor Jekyll, you do not deserve her” he said simply, that same grin plastered across his face.
The smile did not face even as Henry swung for him, his fist hitting Stride just below the eye. If anything it just brought a laugh, Lisa’s gasp from behind him not even enough for him to turn around. He was sobbing now, his body shaking with every breath and every attempt at punches that Stride didn’t even try and block. The fingers around his collar were strong, Henry’s body weight holding him immobile.
“See!” he laughed “There’s my point, you don’t deserve to have her!” Stride’s lip was cut, the blood dripping down his chin slowly. Henry raised his fist above his head, his fingers shaking with the emotions running through his body.
“Henry please! This is not you!” Lisa’s voice was pleading, soft and filled with tears.
He closed his eyes, his body tense, humming with an energy he could no longer reign in, biting his lip in order not to cry out.
He pulled his head back, slamming full force into Stride’s nose before letting him go, his unconscious body slumping to the floor.
“Slut’s yours” the other man said gruffly even though Stride could not hear him; his hand wiping his cheeks and eyes free of tears.
Muse: Henry Jekyll/Edward Hyde
Fandom: Jekyll and Hyde (the musical)
Words: 1149
The amber liquid burned down his throat, settling warmly in his stomach. Henry Jekyll did not drink but tonight...tonight he had reason. He had waited outside that church and watched, the people all smiles and happiness and joy, not unlike that other day, not so long ago. They hadn't noticed him, then again why should they have done? Lisa looking for all the world that the princess that she should be, that he should have made her, and Stride looking like the cat who had gotten the cream. It made him sick... the whole thing made him sick.
Again he tipped the bottle backwards, feeling his head spin and the world lurch about him; he would not be able to do what he had to on a clear head. He threw the now empty contained away from him, the glass shatteringly almost soothingly against the floor, casting multi-coloured shards out from it's centre like starlight. Taking a deep breath he got unsteadily to his feet, grabbing his cloak and hat and cane from the hook in the corner before switching out the light and leaving.
He wandered along the street, a tune on his lips, his movements uncoordinated but he didn't care. His mind worked overtime, his fingers squeezing the top of his cane in a bid to keep still. It didn't take long for him to find the house, a path he had traced so many times before he could do it blindfolded, or blind drunk. He looked up at the house with a strange kind of longing; it should have been him in there, with her, making her as happy as she could possibly be. But it wasn't.
"Lisa!" he screamed at the top of his voice, his tone sounding decisively normal to his ear.
Nothing happened, no one moved, no sound... nothing.
"Lisa, please!" he screamed again, not caring what people thought of him, not caring if she shouted at him, not caring if he got turned away but she would listen to what he had to say, he would make her see.
Quietly the door opened, a lone figure came out, gliding across the cobbles as if she was a ghost… all dressed in white, her veil flowing behind her. Henry could do nothing but stare as she walked towards him, her face unreadable, her manner stiff.
“Henry…what are you doing here, making this-this scene?” she hissed, her face creeping slowly with an anger he knew she was keeping tightly reigned in. It wasn’t proper for a gentlewoman to be angry anymore than it was for a gentleman to be in this state. Henry cared little about neither.
“Lisa please…” he said again, his voice lowering considerably now she was in front of him, his bravado quickly dwindling.
“Henry, you shouldn’t be here, I’m a married woman. It’s wrong for me to be…”
“You think I don’t know that? You think I didn’t see that?” his voice becoming even more quiet, but there was a coldness there that Lisa wasn’t sure was his or another’s.
“He will be out soon, looking for me…” she turned her head ever so slightly towards the door of the house, which was ajar a little, the soft candlelight spilling out into the driveway.
“I…I love you Lisa, I never stopped loving you…” he felt the slow burn of tears as they entered his eyes, the drink mellowing to leave the pain and nothing of the pleasure he had felt before.
“But I am married, Henry…” Henry noticed that she flinched ever so slightly despite herself. Was it remotely possible that she still loved him? Henry held onto the hope with all his strength. She had to… she had suffered a lot, with their wedding and the subsequent aftermath, the scandal that she would have had to endure that had tarnished her family name and sent Henry into hiding… it was always worse for women; people talked.
“We could run away… I could make it all up to you… you don’t love him, I know that you don’t! Please, tell me that you don’t…” it was almost a plea, torn out from his heart as he laid his heart bare to the woman whom he loved more than anything. “Please, tell me that you don’t…” he whispered again, the tears falling freely down his cheeks, illuminated in the moonlight above.
“I love him Henry, I married him Henry…” she whispered, and Henry fancied he heard a flicker in her voice, in the way her body reacted.
The door opened and a shadow was cast on the cobbles, a voice, sure and steadfast into the darkness.
“Lisa? Where are you my love?” Stride made his way out, the top two buttons on his shirt undone, his tie loosened and his shirt tails untucked from his trousers. Spotting his wife he made his way up towards her, a smile on his face. He did not see Henry rush him, did not even notice he was there until he found himself up against the stone wall, the mortar crumbling around him, sending dust into the air.
“Why?” Henry said, the grip around Stride’s collars holding him upwards shaking yet strong, Henry’s tears soaking into his jacket sleeves. “Why did you take everything I had? Why did you take her?“
Stride laughed, his face breaking into that same old easy grin that had infuriated both Henry and Hyde - the mere fact that he thought he could take anything he wanted from him, that he could take her and think that there wouldn’t be reprisals.
“Because Doctor Jekyll, you do not deserve her” he said simply, that same grin plastered across his face.
The smile did not face even as Henry swung for him, his fist hitting Stride just below the eye. If anything it just brought a laugh, Lisa’s gasp from behind him not even enough for him to turn around. He was sobbing now, his body shaking with every breath and every attempt at punches that Stride didn’t even try and block. The fingers around his collar were strong, Henry’s body weight holding him immobile.
“See!” he laughed “There’s my point, you don’t deserve to have her!” Stride’s lip was cut, the blood dripping down his chin slowly. Henry raised his fist above his head, his fingers shaking with the emotions running through his body.
“Henry please! This is not you!” Lisa’s voice was pleading, soft and filled with tears.
He closed his eyes, his body tense, humming with an energy he could no longer reign in, biting his lip in order not to cry out.
He pulled his head back, slamming full force into Stride’s nose before letting him go, his unconscious body slumping to the floor.
“Slut’s yours” the other man said gruffly even though Stride could not hear him; his hand wiping his cheeks and eyes free of tears.
Muse: Henry Jekyll/Edward Hyde
Fandom: Jekyll and Hyde (the musical)
Words: 1149