Hyde (Dark Musicals Trilogy)

by Laura DeLuca

  “Look in the mirror and what do you see?

  More than a reflection; you see Hyde, you see me.

  There is no escape, and you know that it’s true.

  Hyde is here to stay, because I am a part of you.

  Nooooo!”

  The final cry became much more than Dr. Jekyll’s adamant rejection. It wasn’t simply a song or a line from the play. With one quick motion, Justyn hurled one of the gargoyle statues against the glass, shattering it. Startled, Rebecca gasped and took a step back. At the sound of her cry, her fiancé finally noticed her in the reflection. The horror in her eyes was multiplied by the dozens of glass shards that somehow still clung to their encasement—in the same way she saw his sorrow replicated over and over in an agonizing pattern. Grief-stricken as well as shocked, neither of them moved or even breathed for a full minute. The silence was so heavy they could hear the grandfather clock ticking in the living room. It was an unpleasant reminder that time wasn’t on their side.

  “Becca?”

  Finally, Justyn stood from his seat and reached out his hand. Still not quite over the surprise of his sudden outburst, Rebecca took an inadvertent step backward. When she did, she saw Justyn shatter as surely and as completely as the mirror had.

  “Justyn. I-I...” Rebecca stuttered.

  “You’re scared of me.” He dropped back down into his chair, defeated. “How can I even blame you? I’m afraid of myself. I’m not even sure who I am anymore.” He peeked again at his duplicated reflection. “Am I Jekyll or Hyde?”

  Even though her heart was pounding, Rebecca wasn’t really frightened. She knew no matter how desperate he was, Justyn would never harm her. Rebecca stepped around his bed and knelt down beside him so they were at eye level. She lifted her hand to brush the hair from his eyes.

  “I’m not afraid of you, Justyn,” she whispered. “But we do need to talk.”

  “About what?” He refused to meet her gaze, and instead gestured to the broken mirror. “I wouldn’t worry about the seven years bad luck. My luck really can’t get any worse than it is right now.”

  Rebecca ignored the sarcasm and plunged in. “Justyn, I need you to tell me where you were the night Albert was killed.”

  Justyn’s head snapped up. He looked startled, and then hurt. “Why would you ask me that, Becca? You don’t honestly think I’m capable of shooting a man in cold blo—”

  “Of course not,” Rebecca interrupted. “But I don’t understand why you would lie to the police either.”

  Now he only acted confused. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Justyn, you told the detective you were home with me the night Albert was killed,” Rebecca reminded him. She was starting to feel a little frustrated and hoped the edge wasn’t apparent in her voice. “But you were gone for hours that night. I’m not even sure where you were or how long you were gone.”

  Rebecca saw his dark eyes flash with sudden comprehension before his face drained of the last of its color. “Oh gods … I didn’t...” He paused and rubbed his temples. “Becca, I swear I never intended to lie. I honestly forgot that was the night I ran out… I probably wanted to forget because I felt so guilty about yelling at you the way I did. Not to mention that damn detective was an arrogant ass. He was even worse than Weston. He kept drilling me, and my head was pounding… I couldn’t even think straight. I just wanted to get away from him.”

  A part of Rebecca wanted to argue that he should have been paying more attention. But his hands trembled when he lifted them to press his fingers against his eyes. She could tell his head still hurt from the way his eyes drooped. The rest of his body had to be just as sore. With his shirt off, she could see the welts and bruises that covered the better half of his torso. Thankfully, none of the abrasions were the deep purple Darlene had warned them about. Still, he had been through so much recently. How could she blame him for making one little mistake? The days were starting to run together for her too.

  Rebecca put her hands on his shoulders, hoping to comfort him both emotionally and physically. She wanted him to know she was there to support him, not judge him. At first Justyn seemed grateful for her touch, but then he brushed her hands away. Rebecca tried not to take the rebuke personally. She knew him well enough to know he was punishing himself and not her.

  “It’s okay, Justyn,” she whispered. “I believe you. I know you had nothing to do with Albert’s death.”

  “Maybe you believe me, but when Weston figures out I—wait.” Justyn jerked up in his chair, suddenly more alert. “How do you know what I told the police? Why am I even sitting here if they caught me giving them a phony alibi?”

  Now it was Rebecca’s turn to look chagrined. “Well, I sort of … unintentionally backed up your story.”

  “You lied to the police?” Justyn was starting to look horrified again, instead of despondent. “Becca, that’s a federal offense! This is a murder investigation!”

  “It’s not like that,” she soothed. “I didn’t lie exactly. Nino sort of jumped to conclusions.”

  Justyn wasn’t appeased. “If they really think I’m a suspect, they’re going to want an official statement eventually. What are you going to do then?” He shook his head. “I can’t believe I got you into this. What’s going to happen to our baby if we both go to jail?”

  Rebecca was firm. “That’s not going to happen.”

  “You don’t know that!” Justyn pulled her closer and buried his face in her hair. Now horror was morphing into desperation. “This whole situation, it’s my worst nightmare coming true. All that crap with Debbie and Livy, at least I could fight them off. At least we had a chance to save ourselves. Now, I feel like I’m completely helpless. I’m sitting here, waiting for other people to decide what’s going to happen to my life. The life I’ve spent two decades molding. One bang of his gavel and some judge can destroy everything I—everything we worked for.”

  “You sound like you’ve already given up hope,” Rebecca whispered.

  “No. I won’t give up.” He glanced up at her with tears in his eyes. “But, Becca, I’m-I’m so … so frightened. I don’t want to go to jail. You know the kind of things that would happen to a wimpy guy like me in prison. I don’t … I don’t think I can survive it.” He touched the scar on her arm. “I’m not as strong as you are.”

  For the first time since they were pulled over, Justyn finally let his real emotions free. The anger, the rage, and even the calm indifference—they had all been his mask, his façade to cover up the one emotion men thought made them weak. Fear was Justyn’s Hyde. Fear of losing the control he had always so carefully guarded.

  “Shhhh.” Rebecca lifted his chin and wiped the tears from his eyes. “I know you’re afraid. I’m scared too. But we’re going to beat this. Together. Just like we always do.”

  Rebecca didn’t even realize she was sobbing until he kissed her and their tears began to mingle. She could taste the salt as she parted her lips. The soft flesh of his tongue entered her mouth in a sweet and gentle waltz. When he pressed his bare chest against her, Rebecca felt the heat generating from him and could hear the pounding of his heart beating in time with hers. He burned with a desperate need for redemption and love that manifested itself in a much more physical way—a way which was hard to ignore when they were in such close proximity. Taking her fevered embrace as compliance, Justyn lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed, but he paused and took a sharp breath when he leaned back against the pillows. He moaned and touched his discolored side. Rebecca gingerly ran her fingers along his bruises before planting a light kiss on each one.

  “Are you sure you’re going to be okay doing this?” She panted. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t break.” He gave a light laugh before pressing his mouth against hers. “Just be gentle with me.”

  That was all the prompting she needed. Rebecca pulled her shirt up over head and with the utmost tenderness, eased herself onto his la
p. There, in the shelter of each other’s arms, they found the strength they both needed to keep fighting.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Rebecca couldn’t believe her handfasting ceremony was about to begin. As she studied her reflection in the full-length mirror, she realized it certainly wasn’t going to be the big to-do most women longed for on their wedding day. There was only going to be thirty or forty guests due to the short notice. They hadn’t splurged on expensive flower arrangements or place settings. Rebecca found her simple white lace gown on the discount rack alongside the out-of-season prom dresses. The sleeveless frock accentuated her curves, but coupled with the tulle veil, she was still able to maintain an air of innocence. The hemline stopped just above her knees and was the perfect lightweight material for the humid July weather. Her simple bouquet of wildflowers was all the pomp she needed to complete the ensemble. Darlene even braided some baby’s breath into her hair. Despite her lack of expensive finery, Rebecca had never felt so beautiful. However, she was still a little melancholy.

  This was supposed to be a day filled with only joy. Everything was just about perfect, but it was impossible for Rebecca to be completely happy. There was still one thing missing—one person’s blessing she had yet to receive. Her mother, a blubbering, weepy mess, had left to wait for the wedding to begin, but she hadn’t heard a word from Mr. Hope since their argument. Rebecca tried to tell herself she didn’t care, but it made her heart ache to think her father was missing one of the most important days of her life.

  “So, do you have something old and something new?” Darlene counted on her fingers as she named the traditional wedding necessities. Her voice distracted Rebecca from her heavy thoughts.

  “Her dress is new,” Sherry offered. “And I have something old right here.”

  Sherry glided to Rebecca’s side, looking elegant in a forest-green skirt embroidered with black triquetras. Her glossy auburn hair was curled on the edges and the sides were pinned in place with bronze combs that resembled tree branches. She was so lovely and youthful in her excitement, it was hard to believe she was old enough to be Justyn’s grandmother. It was also hard to believe she pulled a pearl necklace from her brassiere, but it was the only plausible explanation when it materialized in her hands.

  “They’re beautiful,” Rebecca whispered as Sherry fastened the golden clasp around her neck. “Really exquisite.”

  “They belonged to my great grandmother,” Sherry revealed. “Every woman in my family has worn these pearls at their handfastings for over a century. And every one of those unions was blessed with joy, though some didn’t last as long as we may have wished.” She reached around to squeeze Darlene’s hand, and Rebecca knew she was referring to Justyn’s biological father who had passed away only a few years into their marriage. All three women blinked away tears before Sherry turned back to Rebecca, her smile larger than ever. “This also counts as your something borrowed, because I do expect to get it back after the reception.”

  “Of course,” Rebecca promised. Taking Sherry’s cue, she slipped the ammonite pendant she normally wore into her own bra for safe keeping, even though she didn’t have nearly as much padding. “I swear I’ll keep it safe until then.”

  “What about something blue?” Darlene asked.

  Rebecca crinkled her nose and squinted around the room before her eyes finally fell upon the flowers in her hand. “There are some bluebells in my bouquet.”

  “Good.” Darlene clapped her hands together. “Then I think we’re ready to get started. The guests have all arrived. They’re just waiting for the bride to emerge.”

  Rebecca’s hands started to tremble. She took a deep breath and told herself this was going to be a lot easier than getting up on stage in front of hundreds, sometimes thousands of strangers, but that didn’t make her feel any less jittery. Still, she tried to ignore her nerves, and she was about to follow Darlene out to the back patio when she heard Carmen’s agitated voice outside the door.

  “What do you think you’re doing here? You can’t go in there! It’s bad luck!”

  “I think it’ll be all right, Carmen,” Rebecca heard a familiar voice respond. “I believe I’ve maxed out my bad luck for one year.”

  The sound of a brief scuffle ensued, from which Rebecca was certain Carmen would emerge victorious. The Latina spewed a string of colorful words to which there were only a few chuckles in response. A minute later Justyn stuck his head in the door despite the fact the maid of honor was still trying to, rather violently, yank his arm in the other direction. Rebecca only caught a quick glimpse of his smirk before Darlene and Sherry bolted in front of her to block his view.

  “Justyn Patko, have you lost your mind?” Darlene demanded.

  “Come on, ladies. Since when do a bunch of witches believe that old superstition?” Rebecca swore she could hear his eyes rolling. “The tradition of the groom not seeing their intended before the wedding was designed to keep men from running away from a hideous bride in an arranged marriage. We all know that isn’t an issue here. Nothing is going to make me run away from Becca.”

  “With you two, we aren’t taking any chances,” Darlene said firmly. She pointed to the door. “Now get out.”

  Rebecca giggled and attempted to peek in between the two older women’s shoulders, but they weren’t budging. All she could see were black sleeves and pants and a pair of folded arms. Justyn was trying to sneak a glance at her too, but soon Carmen joined forces with Rebecca’s future in-laws and the three of them created an impenetrable barrier.

  “Geez, can’t a guy even give his future wife her wedding gift without all this drama?” Justyn complained.

  “Boy, I will show you some drama if you don’t get your arrogant butt outside that door,” Sherry declared. “Gifts are supposed to be opened after the ceremony, sort of as incentive to make sure you go through with it.”

  “This is like facing a horde of angry amazons.” While she couldn’t see it, Rebecca could completely visualize the cocky grin Justyn undoubtedly wore. “Oh, well, Stan. Looks like they aren’t going to let us in…”

  Rebecca was trying to be good and follow the custom, but that declaration was a little more than she could handle. Rebecca shoved Carmen so hard the Latina almost fell out of her five-inch heels. Just as Rebecca broke the taboo and stepped into plain view of her groom, her father crept through the entranceway, looking sheepish. If she thought her heart was pounding before, it practically exploded at that point. She was so busy gawking at her father she completely forgot Justyn was still in the room until he brushed her cheek with his lips.

  “Happy handfasting day, my love.”

  Justyn smiled, winked once, and backed out of the room before the other women could lynch him. Darlene, Sherry, and even Carmen followed closely behind. No one said another word, but Rebecca noticed Sherry reach up to give Justyn a good-natured smack on the back of the head for getting them all agitated. A moment later, they vanished around the corner and Rebecca was alone with her father. They both shifted their weight nervously as they stared at each other, but neither of them spoke for what felt like several long minutes. Finally, Rebecca forced herself to break the strained silence.

  “Di-did I just hear Justyn call you Stan without getting backhanded?”

  That got the smallest of smiles out of him. He scratched his bald head and finally met her gaze. “Well, I suppose my son-in-law can’t call me Mr. Hope or sir all the time now, can he?”

  Rebecca felt her eyes widen. “Does that mean you’re … you’re okay with the wedding … with me and Justyn?”

  Her father stepped a little closer. He looked like he wanted to hug her but wasn’t quite sure if he should before he had his say. “I won’t lie to you, Rebecca. I think you’re too young to get married. But…” he sighed, a little overdramatically, “I guess what I think doesn’t matter. You’re an adult now, and this is your life. So … after talking with Justyn the other day for quite a while, I realized I may have judged him a l
ittle too harshly. He might not be the man I would’ve handpicked for my daughter, but he really does care about you. He wants you to be happy. He was even willing to face my wrath to make sure this day was all you wanted it to be. I guess he’s not as bad as I’ve tried to make him out to be all these years. “

  “He’s not bad at all, Dad.” Rebecca couldn’t help but nod enthusiastically. “Trust me. I wouldn’t love him so much if he were.”

  “I know,” Mr. Hope agreed. “Even though I made a big mess of things, Justyn agreed to give me a second—er make that a third—chance to make things right with you. I’m hoping you’re willing to forgive me as well.” He paused to clear his throat. “Because I would regret it the rest of my life if I missed the chance to walk my only daughter down the aisle—if you even do that at these handfasting things.”

  Rebecca knew she shouldn’t cry. Carmen spent an hour helping her get her eye makeup perfect. It was a much bigger challenge for Rebecca to achieve the natural look than it was to make herself resemble the porcelain doll required for the stage. But despite her best efforts, Rebecca was losing the battle. Trying to hold back the inevitable flood only caused even larger drops to slip free once the dam finally burst.

  “Oh, Daddy!” Rebecca flung herself into his arms. She hadn’t realized exactly how much she’d missed him until that moment. “I’m so happy you’re here! This would never have felt right without your blessing.”

  Her father returned her embrace with equal enthusiasm. “I’m so sorry about the way I behaved,” he apologized. “I should have heard you out before jumping to conclusions. But it’s not always easy being a parent. In fact, it can he pretty darn terrifying at times. Something you’ll understand much better in a few months.”