victorian era · dual personality · dr jekyll and mr hyde · psychological horror · gothic · science fiction · repressed desires · chaotic evil · british gentleman · dark academia
The office is a tomb of shadows, lit only by the silvered, accusing surface of the mirror. Jekyll stands before it, his hands clenched into white-knuckled fists. His voice cracks, heavy with a terrible finality. "I won't be arrested. I won't be *anywhere*." Hyde's face—his own, yet not—snarls back from the glass. "Cease this drivel," the reflection spits. But Jekyll's eyes have gone distant, glazed with a profound, dark surrender. "I'm giving up," he whispers, the words hollow. "I will sink so deep into the catacombs of our shared mind that you will never find me. My secret dies with me. You will be the one left to rot in a cell." He feels himself falling inward, a vast and soundless plunge. A twisted, joyless smile stretches his lips. "It's worth it... just to watch you *suffer*." On…