(no subject)
There was a thick haze around him that he couldn’t seem to break from. It hung over his form like a ominous presence and as he continued to scribble out a forth report, he could feel beads of sweat falling down his brow, to the side of his face, then falling onto the paperwork displayed before him. It was an uncomfortable feeling and in agony, he tugged at his tie and clenched his jaw tightly.
The clock on the back was tolling; it was a mundane drawl that exacerbated the whole situation. The perpetual ticking of the seconds caused the scientist to grip his pen a bit too hard within his clawed grasp.
“Stop it,” he hissed.
Click.
“…Stop it.”
Click. Click.
Crash.
William snapped open his eyes to find himself standing on his feet with his arm stretched out in a peculiar angle. To his back was the clock; it was on the floor now and glass littered the disinfected floor. The pieces sparkled against the pure-white backdrop and for a moment, Birkin was caught by its vulgar beauty. However, something broke his attention again. Just to the right of the broken glass and the shattered clock was a picture frame. It seemed that the glass from that had broken too, but he couldn’t see it. The frame was lying face down.
“I-”
Birkin stumbled passed the glass and slowly crouched down to pluck the picture frame from the ground. Flipping it over, he found that it was, indeed, cracked. Ironically, the crack had been placed right between him and someone-
“-Annette.”
The monster stared at the picture for a long time. It was an old photograph. Of course, in it, Annette was showing hints of being impregnated, but she seemed quite pleased. She was smiling, after all, and she seemed quite close to the younger image of William. But William, though he was smiling as well, seemed like a false presence in the overall photograph. He seemed out of place and much like an unwanted phantom in the presence of life.
Birkin broken apart the rest of the frame with his claws and slowly pulled the image from the torn frame. Turning it over, he saw a small bunch of words scribbled on the back.
‘Three months into our new family.
-William Birkin, Annette Birkin.”
The beast slid his thumb over the image of Annette and frowned.
“It wouldn’t have worked out. Call it the case of Jekyll and Hyde, my dear,” he breathed in sharply before placing the photograph into the pocket of his lab coat. Then, turning his head, he gazed at his work. Since he release from the basement level, he had been allowed to work on his new project. It was a counter virus to the T-Veronica.
To Be Continued.