Three hours before midnight, Dimash felt his eyelids getting heavy and closing under the magical spell of sleep. His head rolled to his side, floppy hair covering his forehead. His breaths slowed down as he drifted away.
In his dreams, he travelled back in time to his dark childhood memories. His imagination and time merged, creating a story with a whit of difference to the reality but not twisting the truth too much.
He was seven years old when it started. The first time his darker side showed up was during the night after his parents had died. He had been crying himself to sleep, only to waken again. He remembered the feeling that had filled him back then like it happened yesterday.
Hyde was fed by the good deeds undone, whispering more words of aggravation and lulling him into a nightmare. Young and naive, he believed everything he said. Being half asleep and sleepwalking, Mr. Hyde led him toward their flowery garden that was enclosed with a white fence.
It felt like someone else had taken control over his body. There was a tiny animal rustling under the leaves, was it a blackbird or a squirrel? Not remembering how he managed to catch it but rather sensing its blood staining his hands and the metallic odor it produced.
Looking through the eyes of a benevolent and innocent child it, of course, looked fascinating. He couldn't understand the consequences of his nocturnal actions. He hadn't realized the death was a permanent threshold in life and one could never escape from it.
Being young and stupid too, he thought he could change his darker side. One sleepless night, Dimash asked him a question that would turn out to be an idiotic one in ten years' time: "Why do you kill animals?"
"For self-fulfillment", Mr. Hyde had replied neutrally. "Just like you enjoy music, I enjoy killing. It's kind of a hobby."
"But killing God's creations is wrong."
"Do I look like I care? My only purpose is to live my life the way I want. One day you'll understand it, Dimash." Since that day, Dimash stopped talking to Mr. Hyde. Their conversations had never born fruit anyway. Little by little, Mr. Hyde fell silent, leaving Dimash alone at night. He didn't seem to miss their meager discussions either. Not that it had bothered Dimash.
Lara Fabian was a singer that had inspired Dimash a lot since he was little. Whenever he was in a bad mood, her music would heal him... until the day she released a new song titled Mademoiselle Hyde. Dimash was personally offended by its lyrics that dealt with a woman who had two personalities. She surrendered to the darkness almost willingly and seduced her lover into hell with her.
He knew he was childish but every time the song played it gave him the creeps. At least Hyde found some new things to value when laughing at his skittishness.
From that day on, Dimash had called him Mr. Hyde.
"I must admit that I like the name you gave me, Dimash." Mr. Hyde stood in front of the window, taking in the beautiful nighty view of the city. Shining in clusters of both bold and faint light, the stars in the velvet sky were strung above him by invisible strings and the new moon hung beneath an eclipse of blazing constellation. The clarity above became reflected in his mind and he knew what to do. "You seriously thought those ropes would restrict me? I thought you were smarter than this..."
It was his time to throw a party at the expense of his fellow Dimash. Maybe he could also slit some throats open on the way. As a snack, you know.
But the cherries on top of the delicious icing of the spongy cake... The mere thought of it was enough to make him drool mentally. Killing two birds with one stone. What luck.
* * *
Mr. Hyde's well-tailored black suit was stainless, dark hair that was combed back floated on the air elegantly, revealing an angular face that was as evil-intentioned as it was handsome. Hyde couldn't help but hum a song of his own as he made his way toward a house that stood surprisingly silent in the middle of the surrounding lively nightlife.
Knock! Knock! After a few seconds, the door opened. His glacial gaze weighed heavily on the face of a tall woman, framed with short reddish hair. She was quite average in the exterior with that long nose, thin lips and blue eyes of hers. Now he was sure about the place. "Mr. Kudaibergen?" the woman yawned, blinking feverishly and fighting off the sleepiness. "Do you know what time it is?"
"The Dimash you're talking about is not here."
"What are you saying? Are you drunk?" she asked, clearly having no notion of what his words meant. She made an attempt to shut the door upon him but Mr. Hyde shoved the tip of his black shoe between the frame and the door.
"That's impolite, isn't it? Driving me away like that", Mr. Hyde muttered more to himself. His eyes had darkened. "I hate rude people."
"I think you should leave, Mr. Kudaibergen."
Mr. Hyde rolled his eyes in annoyance, saving words by making obvious the knife that was sticking out of his pocket.
The mouth was gaping, no words came out. An imminent prospect that she might not see tomorrow was beginning to dawn on her mind. "W-who are you?" she squeaked.
"Your end." The words spilt like tea. Without a warning, Mr. Hyde hurled the door open and swooped on her knife in midair. It was just a silver gleam of light when it cut her thigh with a rapid slash. The deep wound or maybe sheer surprise, caused the woman to topple over on the wooden floor.
There was a high-pitched scream. "Why are you doing this, Dimash? Why?!" Blood was flowing down her leg, the woman couldn't understand what had happened. That the sweet, courteous man had turned into a brutal monster. Her mind refused to process that information even though it was literally dancing in front of her.
"Just for the hell of it. And I'm not Dimash. I am Mr. Hyde."
"N-no! Stop!" she squealed, petrified. "Don't!"
"But I haven't even gotten my feet wet." Hyde grimaced while watching the woman crawl away from him in terror. She screamed when he followed her like a hound, putting the bloody, blunt knife back to his pocket and picking a new one, a sharp butcher's knife that lay untouched on the kitchen counter.
"Are we playing cat and mouse, my dear?" Mr. Hyde mocked, dark eyes cynical, when he saw the woman trying to get away from him by crawling on the floor like a gutter-rat, the exertion cramping her muscles. She hid behind a blue couch as if it could save her from his domination. "So be it. Guess I just have to play."
Soon after Hyde's clicking footsteps followed the dripping blood that had left a messy trail behind. After peeking to the other side of the bulky sofa, he found the woman curled up into a weeping pathetic ball. "D-don't rape me!" she sobbed, eyes imploring for mercy. "Be so kind."
Mr. Hyde couldn't help but let out a monotonic laugh as he crouched down to face her, seeing nothing but floods of sadness. "Raping?" he chuckled. His face was now on the same level as the woman. She was trying to push herself up with the support of her elbows but Mr. Hyde forced her back to the cold floor with one hand only. "Wrong, my dear. That filthiness is beneath me. What I am going to do to you is much worse. Beyond your imagination."
Her eyes were as wide as a plate. Before she could get up, Mr. Hyde forced the woman onto the ground, straddling her legs and tying the woman's hands with a rope he had found from the lower box in their drawer. He had to hold her in place with his knee between her shoulder blades since the victim was fighting furiously; kicking and screaming, nails were bleeding as they scratched the floor in panic. Some of the ill-timed and clumsy blows were aimed at Mr. Hyde but he dodged the attacks way too easily.
Nobody could overpower him. Only murdering gave him this kind of satisfaction.
Eventually, he succeeded in finishing the package with a ribbon. Mr. Hyde swiftly shoved his hand to muffle his victim's frightened screams. His mouth was merely inches away from her ear as he whispered in a sinister tone while holding the butcher's knife on her throat. He had grown tired of sticking with the script and decided to improvise instead. "Any last words, dear?" he taunted when his gaze wandered over her trembling muscles.
The words made her blood curdle, a supreme horror had completely paralyzed her. "Pfff", she mumbled against his palm. Mr. Hyde's smile was wicked. Battles could teach through lessons that were cruel.
"Oh dear, my oopsie", he chuckled and removed his hand from her mouth. The woman's lip quivered in uncontrollable fear as she started sobbing, the knife still pressed against her skin that had become icy and pale as white itself. Hyde proceeded to trace the blade along her neck gently.
"Please, don't do this!" she was begging for her life with teary eyes. Mr. Hyde enjoyed hearing the plead of his victims. It was so satisfying, rewarding and gratifying. Like a rippling brook in a mossy and dense forest. Like music to his ears.
"Say it again!" Mr. Hyde shouted and the blade of the knife sunk deeper into her flesh. "Beg me!"
A choked cry for mercy forced itself up her throat. "Please! Please! I'll do anything!" she cried out and started to squirm again under the heavy weight of the man. "A-anything..."
"Anything, my ass", Mr. Hyde snarled in earnest before the smile disappeared from his face and was replaced with something blood-curdling and dreadful. "Better then shut up, bitch."
To her dismay, Mr. Hyde thrust the knife into her mouth that had opened once again. The lunge made her gag blood but the criminal held her firmly in place and whispered: "I suggest you stop moving unless you want this to cause more damage."
With a blindfold around the heart of his, Hyde wasn't concerned with moral issues and thus, he had a huge lack of remorse. His ability to distinguish good and evil was as undeveloped as a child's. He was only influenced by his own goals that labeled him as a monster and whatnot. But it was totally fine by him as long as the police didn't get in his way.
One well-aimed slide and her numb body fell on the floor. There was thick, red substance all around her, worming its way to her hair. "Can you smell it?" Mr. Hyde whispered in an eerie tone. "Can you smell the metallic aroma of blood?"
The woman had barely enough energy to raise her eyelid. Her naturally golden skin had sunk in tone to something nearly lifeless. Instead of forming words, a few fizzles escaped between her cold lips. "I can't hear you."
"P-please..." The last cut across her throat and she was silenced for eternity.
Mr. Hyde stepped over her ragdoll-like corpse that had blood coming out in gushes and heading straight for the baby blue bedroom. Approximately an eight-year-old forlorn boy with a shaking scrawny body, matted raven hair, and big blue eyes that were peeking under the bangs was trying to hide behind a teddy bear in the prone position under his bed. He was scared. But not scared enough. The kid was unaware of the fact that he was already on the brink of death, just one nudge and he would fall into the embrace of absolute darkness.
Your mother lost the game. Let's see how you can manage. Deadset on his resolve, Mr. Hyde shortened the distance between them with an evil, toothy smile that was stretched in a nearly distorted way.
Gory as it gets, I am that story. He knew that after this Dimash would never be the same again.
//This was a shorter chapter since the previous one turned out way too long. Any feedback is appreciated!//