PLEASE SEE CHAPTER 1 FOR DISCLAIMER, NOTES, ETC.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
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.
CURTAIN DROPS...THE END.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
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.
CURTAIN DROPS...THE END.