Hypocrites: Jekyll and Hyde x Reader

Behind the Facade

ANOTHER VICTIM!: Lady Elizabeth Beaconsfield found dead.

You yawned as you read the passages, the obituary of the paper growing longer by the day. You were uncertain whether it was remnants of the narcotics or just utter boredom that kept you groggy. Of course it was terrifying that there was a killer in the midst, but the victims weren't exactly those you'd be sympathetic for. Powerful, rich, renowned, you rolled your eyes at the lineup. No, these weren't the names of anyone deserving your grief. If anything, you were relieved to know another corrupt hypocrite was getting their just desserts.

With a huff, you closed the morning paper and set it aside as you heard the door creak open.

You turned and saw Jekyll enter the room again, papers in hand as he quickly examined and wrote notes on it. Your brow twitched in annoyance as he seemed to take his sweet time jotting down whatever it was. As the days passed, you were beginning to grow impatient and tired of the dread of staying under the same roof as him. The date of the move was still indefinite and uncertainty, or any lack of control for that matter, didn't agree with you.

You were uncomfortable of the situation, much more so that you had to completely rely on the doctor for it. It wasn't fun anymore either to even tease or annoy him. Jabs and insults were getting repetitive and childish. You winced as you realized he said the same thing. With a defeated sigh, you sat there quietly, waiting for him to begin his tests or say something, anything really.

•~•~•~•~•~•

Jekyll's POV

"No greetings today, Ms. (L/n)?" I said, barely glancing at her, noting the testy tone I had not intended to convey. Admittedly, the question didn't come from any form of concern and by the way she glared, she could hear it too. Finally looking back at her, our eyes had yet to meet and she had already winced at what I imagine was the sight of my bandaged temple. I could only guess that this was what rendered the usually noisy girl mute. I'm thankful enough that she at least feels guilt. I ought to note that she wasn't at least devoid of empathy.

Turning her face away, she spoke somewhere above a whisper. "I am quite stubborn but I'm not that thick to think I make no mistakes," the smallest hint of guilt in her voice. At this point even I was at a loss for words. Not a thought or reply could enter my mind as I received what could be her sincerest apology. However way you could define an apology, at least.

At this point I was grateful she had turned away, lest she sees the shock on my face and finds another way to be offended. Considering this breakthrough, there was no time to waste as I began to walk up to her. Catching myself before taking her hand, I quietly offer my own just before she glanced back. The look on her face were mixes of confusion and discomfort. Clearly hesitant, I was ready to explain my suggestion again before she reluctantly placed her hand on mine. Once again, I was surprised by her compliance. Perhaps she was more remorseful than what she let on.

Regardless, I went on with the examinations. Everything seemed fairly normal; at least, normal for her standards. As I took note of my observations, my eyes seemed to wander the room. The quiet allowed me to think for once, no longer needing to keep a tense watch for sudden attacks and violence. With this momentary respite, I had suddenly become more aware of this room's conditions.

Dust coated every surface that hadn't recently been part of yesterday's struggle. The closed windows offered very little light and circulation, only encouraging this suffocating air. Even my throat tickled from how unkempt this room was. I nearly let out a sigh as I saw large glass shards still scattered by the foot of her bed. I was beginning to understand her desperation to leave. If I were in her place I'd- was that a newspaper?