JEKYLL WATERS, MUCH like the character he shared a name with, was mad, terrifyingly mad. But it is said that love is found in the strangest things, and Jekyll was the strangest thing there ever was.
He would twitch and convulse like a sick dog during his fits in the cafeteria, shrieking and hollering at anyone who had the courage to approach him. The nurses, who were most likely used to his troubles, said nothing. We would often usher ourselves out and back to our rooms. Several times, I recall pausing outside the door and listen to Jekyll’s screams, wondering what had turned a young man into the devil’s spawn. Rumors about him were abundant in the sanitarium—word had it that he had gone on a killing streak and had almost murdered the population of an entire town. This did not turn me wary of Jekyll, unlike other girls, who were chilled to the bone at the mere thought of him. Instead, I became more curious to figure out the peculiar boy who had managed to sneak into my thoughts and later, my heart.
I remember our first exchange. Most of the teens were sitting in a circle on the floor of the common room. Me, not wanting anything to do with girls who were sluggish from sedatives and ate their crayons, had sat a good few distances away on one of the ratty couches. I had finally been trusted to be allowed outside comfort objects, such as my sketchbook, and didn’t dare abuse my privilege. The couch dipped as someone sat down, and for a few moments, I was unaware of Jekyll’s presence.
“That’s a beautiful portrait,” he said a moment later, eyes trained on the deft motions of the pencil I held. “Is that your mother?”
“Yes,” I stuttered, my heart jumping into my throat. I looked up to Jekyll, expecting him to begin snapping and snarling any moment now. His usual messy mop of brown hair was trimmed and cleaned. He wore a blue collared shirt, and his sharp green eyes crinkled with amusement at my surprise. For once, Jekyll was normal.
Normal. What an odd word to describe him.
“Can hardly recognize me, can you?” he asked, a grin playing on his lips. “Try to think of me, just screaming and shaking.”
“I know who you are, Jekyll,” I assured him.
“Interesting,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “You know my name, but I don’t know yours.”
“I’m Amelia,” I said, loosely twirling the pencil in my hands. “But you can call me whatever you’d like.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Amelia.”
Our daily routine of talking in the common room was not lost on the other girls. They would whisper about the nature of the relationship between Jekyll and I, hissing crude things whenever they were able to determine I was in earshot.
“He’s a killer, Melly,” a girl named Lily said coldly one evening, leering at me in the darkness of our chambers. “He’ll rip out your heart and then leave your carcass for the vultures.”
Her intervention did not alarm me. Perhaps, if I had not been so smitten by Jekyll’s charm, I would’ve taken Lily’s warning to heart and as a sign of good will. But love is blind, and perhaps that is where my fault lies.
“Do you ever feel like breaking out of here?” Jekyll mused a few months later. It was well into December, and many patients had been released to return home for the winter holidays. However, the two of us remained, as we had no family to go back to—Jekyll’s being dead and mine too ashamed to admit their only daughter possessed a mental handicap.
The question took me by surprise. “What?”
“You heard me,” he said quietly, casting a glance over his shoulder to one of the nurses standing at her post by the door. “What if we just made a run for it?” He smiled innocently at the nurse, waving. If the nurse had noticed, she didn’t bother smiling back.
“Of all the things you’ve said, that is by far the most ridiculous,” I said with a nervous chuckle, wrapping a lock of hair around my pointer finger and tugging, watching as a few strands ripped from my scalp and landed in my hands. It had became a habit of mine. I thought it was disgusting, while Jekyll thought it was cute.
“Don’t you want to live?” he asked. “Let’s face it, Amelia. We’re not getting discharged anytime soon, or any time at all. Do you really think your family cares about getting you out, or about the treatment you receive here? You already know the answer.”
His words were a low blow, and Jekyll realized this.
But the worst part was the fact that he was right. I wasn’t going to be allowed to just go back once I got better. My medical history would haunt my family for generations to come, a stain on their reputation. Their folly would lead to my lifetime imprisonment.
“How do you propose we leave, then?”
A tiny, mischievous smile broke out on Jekyll’s mouth. He pulled me into an embrace, his lips almost brushing against my ear as he spoke.
“Be ready to leave tonight. I’ll come find you. There’s some things not even the nurses know about this place.”
“What happens if we get caught?” I whispered.
“We won’t,” he swore. “Trust in me.”
Did I trust him? Perhaps. Jekyll’s words had left me head over heels and made it so I was not able to think straight. Being young and naïve is one of the qualities of the teenage mind. So I put my faith into this madman living inside the body of a child and allowed him to be my savior and salvation. I now question how Jekyll did it—how did he make me hang on to his every word? Alas, the answer to this lies within the leap from girl to woman, and cannot be found with simple curiosity.
Later that evening, I was throwing my things into a drawstring bag at the foot of my bed. I didn’t bother to fold my clothes or check if the things I was packing were truly necessities. I had no time to waste, the sun was already beginning to set. A few minutes of tense silence went by as I waited for Jekyll’s arrival. The fear of being caught slithered to the front of my mind as my anxiety grew.
Jekyll’s head popped up in the frosted window, a sheepish expression on his face. He was mouthing something, pointing to the glass and pretending to chuck an object at it.
Oh.
Nodding, I glanced around the room. Nothing was evidently useful to help me break the glass other than my own two hands. Balling them into fists, I stepped towards the glass, motioning for Jekyll to get out of the way.
Without warning, I slammed my right fist into the glass. It shattered without protest. I repeated my actions until there was enough space for me to wiggle out and into the chilly evening. Cold seeped through my clothes, powdered snow leaving wet stains on the loose pair of sweats that were practically falling apart at the seams.
“You took your time,” Jekyll remarked. There was nothing humorous in his eyes now, annoyance lacing his tone.
Like you were such a big help.
I was wise enough to bite my tongue, however. There was no need for things to escalate into a full-out argument at a time like this.
“Let’s get moving,” I said briskly, moving past him. Now that the idea of freedom was in reach, I was no longer hesitant.
Jekyll mutely trailed after me. Somehow, the tables had been flipped, and now I was the one confidently trotting along.
“Stop at once!”
A party of nurses, wardens, and policemen rounded the corner of the building before making their way into my sight. Against the barren terrain, Jekyll and I were clearly visible. The policemen ran at the front of the pack, hot on our heels. I turned to Jekyll.
“Run!”
But my words had fallen on nonexistent ears, for Jekyll had vanished.
Stunned, I rubbed my eyes, but he was still missing from my sight. The distraction of his absence allowed the assembled group of interlopers to catch up to me. I barely registered one of the officers tackling me to the ground, pinning my arms above my head.
“I’ve got her.” He held me in place as I howled, thrashing against his grip.
“Let her go at once!” A nurse in pink scrubs demanded. The officer obeyed. The nurse helped me to my feet, wrapping an arm around my shoulders to steady me. “Are you all right, honey?”
“Jekyll,” I mumbled, “what happened to Jekyll? He said we’d be free.” The pain of losing him and our chance to escape has begun to sink in, a dull ache settling in my chest and squeezing my heart.
“There’s another patient on the loose?” The officer’s face creased with worry.
The nurse shook her head, a pitiful smile on her face. “Amelia here hasn’t made contact with another patient for years, officer.”
“But I thought you said—”
“There is no one named Jekyll at this sanitarium.”