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Of cruelty and kindness

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When Hyde felt dizzy from only a few gulps of booze, he realised immediately, that someone had spiked it.

He knew who.

Right after arriving at the bar and getting his first ale, he had been approached by a tall, red-haired man with a slight Irish accent. The man had asked to sit with him.

Hyde had been suspicious, but he had promised Jekyll not to make a fuss tonight.

However, there was something in the way the redhead had looked at him, something that awakened his flight impulse.

He decided that it was smarter to go home and lock himself into his flat.

He tumbled through the streets, barely aware of his surroundings. The thunderstorm was vicious and without an umbrella, he got soaking wet.

He wanted to go faster, but was too dazed and dizzy to run.

Damn, what the hell did that bastard mix into my ale …? Why …? when did he even …

Then a strong pang of dizziness overcame him and he had to lean against a wall to keep himself from collapsing.

Damn, he felt like he was going to puke!

“Where you goin' so quickly, kid?”, a deep voice spoke and his eyes widened with fear.

Before the brunette knew what was happening, someone grabbed and repeatedly threw him against the brick wall.

He felt a sharp pain as his forehead collided with the wall.

Then nothing.

 

Lucy had been on her way home, when an odd-looking elevation in a muddy, grimy backstreet caught her attention.

It was a narrow alley and she could hardly make out anything in the rain and darkness. But then the alley was illuminated by a flash of lightening and she spotted the silhouette of a small frame lying on the ground next to the brick wall.

She approached, careful not to slip on the mud.

When she had reached the object of her curiosity, she found that it was just the man she had been looking for.

He was lying on his side, several inches deep in mud, vomit and … oh god, was that blood?! The stench was almost unbearable and she felt like she was going to puke.

Oh god, he isn't – is he?!

Lucy checked his pulse. It was weak, but there.

Oh thank god, he's alive.

Another flash lightened his face. Flowing from his mouth was a white substance Lucy knew all too well, and traces of vomit. His forehead was bleeding, he had probably been knocked against the wall. His coat covered his body, but when she pulled it to the side, she saw the blood at the back of his pants.

That made her even sicker.

It was painfully obvious what had occurred.

Suddenly, intense anger and hatred welled up inside her. For a moment, the prostitute wondered, why.

This was Edward Hyde, a devil to the core. He more than deserved it. She thought about all the times he had hurt and raped her or one of her colleagues. It was about bleeding time he got a taste of his own medicine!

She should leave him to die.

But then … how would that change things? Sure, he would be gone, but soon enough, another, equally or even more brutal bastard would come and do the same to her, or even worse.

And if she let him die … what kind of person would that make her? Not a good one, that much was clear. She hated Mr. Hyde. And she knew better than to expect gratitude from him, if she would save him. But her good heart triumphed over her common sense.

She should let that demon die. But if she did, she would never forgive herself.

A whimper came from the unconscious man, as Lucy pulled him up and began to drag him through the streets.

She couldn't believe that she was doing this, but kept walking, until she finally arrived at her flat.

When she finally had got them both out of their dripping, dirty clothes, she gasped at the state the small brunette was in. Nasty bruises and blood were covering his whole body.

She had to clean and nurse him.

That took her an hour.

Lucy had no medical training. But she had been hurt so often, that she was used to taking care of her own wounds by now.

However, when she disinfected the wounds around the young man's anal area, she realised two things:

1. The culprit had been exceptionally brutal.

2. The small brunette had likely never taken it up the arse before.

Latter wasn't surprising, as if Edward Hyde would ever willingly let someone dominate him!

But it was heart-breaking.

Lucy knew, that she shouldn't feel compassion for that little bastard.

But she couldn't help herself! Virginity was something precious, something you had to give willingly! There was nothing worse than brutally being robbed of it!

In that moment, she remembered something: Hyde, although he was a rapist, had never touched a virgin himself, at least he had told her so. He had reasoned, that he just wasn't into defloration. His partners needed to be tough, experienced and older than twenty. Fucking a virgin required gentleness and care, something he wasn't capable of.

Now that I think about it … why does he care about that? I mean, he never had any problem with forcing himself on me or the others, why does he stop at virgins? What man wouldn't want to boast with being a girl's first?

It was confusing.

But this was no moment to ponder further about that.

She spent the next half hour taking care of the injuries as best as she could. From time to time, Hyde whimpered unconsciously, but didn't wake up.

Then she dressed him into one of her own nightgowns and flopped onto the couch, exhausted from the endeavours of the day and night.

 

When Hyde awoke from his mini-coma, he noticed two things:

1. It was morning.

2. His whole body was hurting like hell, especially his arse and back.

Fuck … must have been that bastard ginger … what the hell did he do to me?!

He tried to get up, but his aching back would have none of it. He groaned in pain and lay back on his stomach.

“Oh, you're awake! Good morning, Mr. Hyde.”

He almost cried out in shock, but recognised the voice as Lucy's just in time.

When he turned his head (which was also hurting), he found the black-haired prostitute standing in the door frame. She was holding a silver tablet with a tea set in her hands.

For some reason the sight made him smile lopsidedly.

“I believe your morning is better than mine right now”, he commented drily.

For some reason his already guttural voice was so hoarse, it was almost gone.

Lucy said nothing and just put the tea onto the night stand and poured a cup.

“Here. Some tea and painkillers. I figured you might want those, when you wake up.”

“How did I get here?”

“I found you in a backstreet two nights ago”, she replied. After a moment of hesitation, she continued: “You were lying in a puddle of mud, vomit and blood, unconscious. So I brought you here.”

Oh. This was her flat.

Well, one thing less he had to worry about.

He tried to move, but it still hurt.

“Please lie still”, Lucy said, “You're gravely injured.”

He gritted his teeth. He was familiar with pain, but not this kind. And he hated it. What the hell had happened, for him to still be hurting after being unconscious for two nights and a day?

“Well, you wouldn't happen to know why?”, he demanded to know.

Suddenly she looked really uncomfortable.

“Uhm … well …”

Hyde's eyes narrowed.

“Lucy.”

“Please don't make me tell you!”, she cried desperately.

But he wasn't willing to do her that favour.

“You know how much I hate lies and secrecy. So spit it out.”

“SOMEONE BEAT YOU UP AND RAPED YOU!”, she yelled in a mixture of frustration and anguish.

For the next minutes, the only noise in the room was her aggressive panting.

Then she glared at him. “There. I told you. Are you satisfied now?!”

 

Lucy had prepared for everything.

Fury.

Disgust.

Upset.

Hysteria.

Denial.

Even a nervous breakdown.

What she hadn't expected was complete calm.

For a while he said nothing.

Then he chuckled bitterly: “Silly me. Should have guessed it myself.”

Before she could stop him, the young man stood up, slowly and with obvious effort.

“Don't”, he growled warningly, when she wanted to help him. He reached onto the night stand and downed a cup of tea and a spoonful of laudanum.

“Nasty, that stuff”, he muttered, before turning back to her. “Where are my clothes?”

“O-over there”, Lucy stuttered, still struggling to comprehend the other's nonchalance.

“I … I cleaned and fixed them, while you were unconscious.”

Hyde raised an eyebrow. “How kind of you. You don't have my bag and cane, by chance?”

She handed him his cane.

He thanked her with a forced smile, before slowly making his way over to the couch.

Lucy turned around, while he got dressed.

After a while, he let her know that he was decent.

When she turned, he was already in his pants, shirt and waistcoat. He was emptying his bag, while supporting himself with his cane.

Lucy was surprised at the things that came to light: his wallet, his keys, a notebook, a locket (why did he own a locket?!), a pocket watch and … medicinal equipment?!

What does he need all that for?!

Eventually he was finished and chuckled: “Well, would you look at that. All my things are still there. Even my money and the cheques.”

How can you be so casual, you deranged bastard?! For god's sake, show a reaction! I'd rather see you throw a fit in my flat than this!!!

“Mr. Hyde …”

“Not a word, Lucy”, he warned.

She knew better than to disregard his warnings.

With disturbing calm he put everything back into his bag.

The effort must have been very painful, because he had to lean on his cane to rest. He cursed under his breath, but she couldn't make out what he was saying.

Suddenly, she noticed something.

A tremble in his lower lip. The way he clutched his cane.

Almost unnoticeable, but there.

Mr. Hyde's mask of indifference was slipping.

Lucy was frightened of what would be revealed, yet at the same time she was relieved, that he was finally showing a reaction.

But apparently, he didn't want to break down in front of her.

When he picked up his coat and saw the bloodstains Lucy hadn't been able to get out, he grimaced.

“And that coat is brand new!”, he lamented.

“If I was you, the coat would be my last concern”, she remarked.

He scoffed: “Bold of you to assume it isn't mine!”

Mr. Hyde sighed and leaned on the night stand.

Lucy frowned. “You can't sit down, can you?”

He sneered. “If you ever took it up the arse like that, you probably know the answer, my dear.”

Good point.

Anal sex could hurt like hell, she knew that first hand.

The small brunette was watching her with an ineffable look on his face. That would have been nothing worrisome, had it not been Edward Hyde.

“I have a few questions for you”, he finally spoke up.

The way he said it was eery, but she ignored it.

“Sure, if I can answer them.”

“I'm hearing no taunts from you. No glee. Why is that so? After all I have done to you, I finally got what I deserved. Does that not make you happy?”

“Rape does not make me happy, Mr. Hyde”, Lucy replied calmly. “But it does give me satisfaction to know, that you finally got a taste of your own medicine.”

He laughed throatily, then went on: “Next question: why did you save me? You could have let me die. Why didn't you?”

“What kind of person would that have made me?”, she asked in return.

“A sensible one?”, the young man supplied.

“A heartless one. You deserved to get violated-”

“I can't disagree.”

“-but no one deserves to die. Everyone should have a chance to live.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Even me?”

“Even you.”

“You're way too good for this world”, he commented, shaking his head.

The black-haired woman blushed. “Well, I don't know …”

“It's a fact. Don't contradict me.”

There was a finality in his voice that left no more room for argument.

“Do you have a pen?”, he asked suddenly.

The prostitute blinked in confusion. “Huh? Uh, sure.”

She got a pen and ink from her vanity (her most valuable property, may she add – that pen had been expensive!) and handed it to the brown-haired man.

He removed something from his bag, turned his back to her and scribbled something onto a piece of paper. Then he put it onto the table and stretched his back.

“Urgh, my back! I feel like I'm thrice my age!”

“Uhm”, she spoke up shyly, “If you don't mind me asking, how old are you actually?”

“Twenty”, Hyde told her with a shrug.

She blinked.

Twenty? She had thought he was seventeen! Beside his petite stature, he had a rather feminine voice – high-pitched and husky – and behaved every bit like a troubled teenager.

The man shot her an expectant glance. “Well? I just revealed my age to you, so it's only my right to ask the same of you.”

She hated giving her true age away. For her profession she was old and that made her less valuable. But what could she do.

“I'm twenty-three.”

He frowned. “That explains why you get paid less. The older girls aren't considered as valuable, are they?”

“No, we're not”, Lucy confirmed sadly.

He shook his head. “What's that with every man wanting to fuck adolescents? That's disgusting.”

Upon seeing her surprised expression, Hyde snorted: “Don't give me that look, Lucy. Even evil has standards. Now come here.”

She hesitated.

He chuckled. “No need to be so nervous. I won't bite you.”

Finally, she obeyed. After all, he was in no condition to seriously take his upset out on her.

What she didn't expect was for him to pull her down and kiss her.

The kiss was gentle, chaste, full of emotion and so very much unlike Mr. Hyde. He was putting something into it, as if he wanted to tell her something, but silently.

Deciding that it was safe, she relaxed.

In the middle of all that, she felt one of his hands briefly slipping into a fold of her dress, then withdraw itself.

After breaking the kiss, he said: “When I'm gone, look into your pocket and see what's inside it now. Consider that my thanks, sweet Miss. As for me, I'm going home. I have to consult a real doctor about this.”

“Yes, that would be wise”, she agreed and helped him into his coat.

Then he finally grabbed his hat and limped out of her flat.

Once the door shut after him, she sighed and fell onto her knees.

Oh thank god, he's finally gone!

Remembering his words, she emptied her pocket.

Her eyes widened in shock.

Before her lay a cheque on 200 Pounds and a folded paper.

Latter turned out to be a short letter. The content was as shocking as the huge sum of money.

Dear Miss Harris,

if I was capable of feeling actual regret, then this would be an apology letter. But sadly I'm not, so I can't truthfully apologise to you.

Allow me, however, to give you a sign of my deep gratitude. This sum should be more than enough to buy your freedom. Get a room somewhere and don't share it with any man. Get yourself a strong ladyfriend who can stand up for you (and yes, I know and no, I won't tell).

I will visit you from time to time.

Furthermore, allow me to make a promise:

I will never hurt you again.

Signed, E. Hyde.”

 

When Hyde finally entered Jekyll's house, he slammed the back door shut after himself and fell to his knees from exhaustion and pain.

“Jekyll?”, he called out hoarsely, “Can you hear me?”

I can hear you”, a deeper, older voice answered.

His reflection in the mirror morphed into a tall, blond man with brown eyes.

Dr. Henry Jekyll's spectre stepped out of the mirror with a sombre expression.

Hyde smiled bitterly. “What's with that face, Doctor? You look as if you actually feel bad for me!”

I do, Hyde”, the older whispered gently, “Believe it or not, I feel almost as horrible about it as you do.”

The brunette laughed derangedly. “It's kind of funny. I'm depraved to the core, but I've never felt so impure and defiled in my entire life.”

Me neither”, Jekyll agreed sadly, “After all, that bastard indirectly raped me as well. I … I came out as a shadow, when I sensed that you weren't feeling well. I saw everything … oh, Edward, it was so awful!”

Hyde looked at him in surprise. “Why the hell are you crying?!”

No, the real question is, why are you not?”

The smaller man ground his teeth. “Crying is for the weak.”

The blond shook his head. “Hyde, it's not like you to pretend. You don't have to be strong. Not now, not here, not in front of me. It's okay to hurt. It's okay to cry.”

Hyde tried not to, he really did. He was always the stronger of the two.

But it was impossible.

He had managed to keep a calm facade in front of Lucy, but never would he be able to fool his creator and other half.

He was hurting in every way, humiliated, angry and upset and he just wanted it to stop.

A sob escaped him.

Then another.

Dr. Jekyll took him in his arms and they both cried.