His eyes were hungry and cold as ever, but for the first time, he smiled with his teeth. They were too sharp and there were too many.
As I sat in bed, clutching the rose to my chest in spite of its thorns and fully expecting to die, he reached out to the rose and took out one of the thorns without bleeding or wounding. It started growing outwards until it was the size of a kitchen knife. Wood overgrown with moss began to grow from the end, and it had become a dagger. Mr. Hyde examined his handiwork carefully, turning it over several times in his pale, thin hands. He ran his finger across the edge, but no blood stained the thorn. His smile was colder and sharper than a dagger.
(I just noticed that I have never seen Mr. Hyde blink. His eyes are always open and ever hungry.)
Mr. Hyde turned around and exited my room, leaving no trace behind but the rose he had given me. After minutes or hours, I cannot say which, I finally left the room. Mr. Hyde was nowhere to be found.
He is not a man. He is not human. He is a monster.
As I sat in bed, clutching the rose to my chest in spite of its thorns and fully expecting to die, he reached out to the rose and took out one of the thorns without bleeding or wounding. It started growing outwards until it was the size of a kitchen knife. Wood overgrown with moss began to grow from the end, and it had become a dagger. Mr. Hyde examined his handiwork carefully, turning it over several times in his pale, thin hands. He ran his finger across the edge, but no blood stained the thorn. His smile was colder and sharper than a dagger.
(I just noticed that I have never seen Mr. Hyde blink. His eyes are always open and ever hungry.)
Mr. Hyde turned around and exited my room, leaving no trace behind but the rose he had given me. After minutes or hours, I cannot say which, I finally left the room. Mr. Hyde was nowhere to be found.
He is not a man. He is not human. He is a monster.
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