Jekyll-Hyde Effect

Chapter 3 - SECRETS

The nightmares had returned last night, vivid and relentless, clawing at the edges of my mind long after I'd woken. Faces twisted in fear, mouths open in silent screams, eyes wide and accusing, reaching for me even as I tried to run. My chest heaved at the memory, muscles aching, heart pounding, a cold sweat clinging to my skin as though my body refused to forget.

I lay in the dark, sheets sticking to me, wishing the world could stop. Wishing it could pause just long enough for me to catch my breath, to remember that I was alive. But I wasn't sure I wanted to be. The throbbing in my temples reminded me I was trapped here, inside my own body, inside this cage of a house.

Mom sat beside my bed, the dim glow of the lamp painting her face in tired shades. Her fingers fidgeted with the edge of the blanket, pulling at it, tugging it, as if she could stitch the pieces of me back together with her hands. Her eyes were heavy with worry, and the sight made something twist painfully in my chest. I hated that my existence caused her so much fear. Hated that I had become a burden, a living reminder of secrets she refused to share.

"Mom, I'm fine," I said softly, but my voice felt fragile, like dry glass. "You don't have to look at me like that... like I'm going to die."

Her gaze didn't waver. It pierced me, a quiet admission of helplessness. Then, almost hurriedly, she straightened. "I... I have something to do," she said, voice clipped. Without another word, she left, the soft click of the door leaving an echo that seemed louder than her presence ever was.

I wanted to follow. I wanted answers. But my body refused. It was heavy, uncooperative, weighed down by pain and the remnants of last night's fear. Even moving felt like a battle, every joint screaming, every limb anchored to exhaustion.

I needed something normal. Something familiar. Something to remind me I still existed. Pancakes. My favorite. I didn't care what time it was. In this house, time didn't matter. I needed pancakes.

Dragging myself from the bed was like moving through molasses. My slippers scuffed the floor in quiet protest, the stairs groaning under the weight of my body. I paused at the bend, straining to listen. Mom's voice. On the phone. Low, urgent, and... panicked?

"She's getting worse," I heard her whisper. My stomach dropped, the floor threatening to shift beneath me.

"I don't know the recipe!"

Recipe? What recipe? I froze mid-step. Heart hammering, pulse racing.

"We need more. Only two doses left, and her situation is serious," she said, desperation threading every syllable.

Her words sliced through me like a knife. Her voice—the tone, the urgency—it was about me. Not someone else. Me.

"I'm begging you... don't do this. Don't hang up!" My throat was dry, my voice hoarse even in my mind. I couldn't speak aloud; I couldn't intervene. I was frozen.

"And if she gets out of control again?" Her words stabbed at me. "It almost happened last night. God knows what would've happened if I wasn't here."

Out of control? Last night? The memory of my nightmares surged, a terrifying reflection of reality. Mom had been hiding it. Keeping it secret. Guarding me from... something. Or herself from me.

"So what do I do when we run out? No! You can't suggest that. I already feel guilty about the first time. I can't tra—"

Her voice faltered as her eyes met mine. I hadn't moved. I hadn't breathed. But now my presence was undeniable.

"Bye. I'll call back later." She ended the call abruptly, not letting her gaze falter for a moment, as if trying to will me out of the room.

"What are you doing out of bed, Ruby? You aren't feeling—"

"Don't!" I snapped. "Don't tell me how I'm feeling!" Anger and fear twisted into a single, raw ache. "What was that about?"

"It's nothing. Go back to bed." Her voice was tight, controlled, fragile. I could see the cracks in her composure, even as she tried to hide them.

I was done with nothing. Done with secrets. Done with suffocating control.

"Explain yourself, Mom!" I demanded, stepping closer.

"I don't owe you an explanation, young lady!" she hissed. But I pressed on, ignoring her.

"Oh really? You have no say over whether I stay locked in this house?" My voice shook, but my determination was sharper than fear. "I'm going out."

"I'm sorry I have to do this, but you forced me, Ruby."

The sting hit the back of my neck before I could react.

Everything went black.

And in that darkness, I realized: freedom was never mine.