Edward Hyde

Edward Hyde sat on the edge of the velvet couch, the weight of his eyelids growing heavier with each sip of wine. His mind, usually racing with dark thoughts and twisted schemes, had momentarily stilled. The gentle ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner was the only sound that pierced the silence, a rhythmic lullaby that promised the sweet embrace of sleep.

The wine had done its job, the warmth spreading through his veins like a gentle embrace. He leaned back into the cushions, his breathing deepening as the world around him grew fuzzy. But as the hands of the clock inched closer to midnight, something stirred within him, a restlessness that no amount of alcohol could quell. He had been waiting for you, his love, to return from your evening out. The anticipation had built up like a crescendo in his chest, only to be met with an eerie quiet.

With a grunt, Hyde pushed himself up from the couch, his legs wobbly from the effects of the wine. He stumbled to the window, peering through the dusty panes at the gaslit streets of London. The cobblestones gleamed wetly under the moon's cold gaze, and the fog danced in the shadows like ghosts of forgotten souls. He squinted, trying to spot any sign of your approach, but the night remained stubbornly still. His patience had worn as thin as the fabric of the curtains that hung limply beside him.

Grabbing his hat and cape from the stand by the door, he wrapped the garments around him with the precision of a man who had done so countless times before. His hand clenched around the smooth wooden handle of his staff, a silent companion that had seen more than its fair share of violence. The clock chimed midnight, its echo a taunt in the empty room. He had had enough of waiting.

Hyde stepped out into the night, the cold air a sharp slap to his flushed cheeks. The wine had done little to warm his blood; anger now coursed through him, a much more potent heat. He strode down the cobblestone alleyways, his eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of you. The fog clung to the ground like a living thing, whispering secrets that seemed to mock his quest. His footsteps grew heavier, more deliberate, as he marched toward the local pub where you had often sought refuge.

As he approached, the sounds of laughter and merriment grew louder, spilling out into the night like a taunting melody. He shoved the heavy oak door open, the warmth of the tavern washing over him. The chatter of the patrons hushed for a brief moment before resuming their drunken revelry. He scanned the room, his gaze passing over the faces of the men and women who were oblivious to the monster in their midst. His eyes narrowed, and his heart quickened when he saw you in the corner, your laughter intertwined with that of another.

The man was tall, with a smug smile that seemed to be painted on his face. His arm was draped casually around your shoulder, his hand resting too comfortably on your thigh. Hyde felt the rage boil in his chest, his knuckles turning white as he gripped his staff tighter. His vision blurred, and he took a step forward, his intent clear.

Before he could reach you, the bartender, a burly man with a thick mustache, stepped in front of him. "We don't serve your kind here, Mr. Hyde," he said firmly, his voice carrying the weight of authority. The room had gone silent, all eyes on the confrontation unfolding.

Hyde sneered, his voice a low growl. "Get out of my way," he warned, his eyes never leaving you and the stranger. The bartender hesitated, then took a step back, his gaze flicking to the men at the bar who had risen to their feet, ready to intervene.

With a swiftness that belied his inebriated state, Hyde closed the distance between you and the man. Without a word, he yanked you to your feet, your eyes wide with shock and fear. The stranger's smile faltered, his hand reaching for something beneath the table. But Hyde was faster, slamming his staff down with a resounding thud, pinning the hand to the wooden surface. "You're coming with me," he snarled, his voice a mix of anger and possessiveness. –––––––––––––––––––– You stirred awake to the feeling of rough ropes biting into your wrists and ankles, the room spinning in a haze of confusion and dread. The smell of stale wine and cigar smoke hung heavy in the air, the distant sound of Big Ben chiming midnight echoing through the thick fog outside. Your eyes slowly adjusted to the dimly lit room, the shadows dancing menacingly on the walls. Where were you? What had happened? Panic began to set in as reality crashed down upon you.

The cold, unyielding pressure between your legs brought you back to the present with a jolt. A chill ran through your body as you felt the unmistakable outline of a gun's barrel, sliding against your thigh. Your heart raced as you took in the scene: Edward Hyde, now shirtless, his eyes gleaming with a sinister hunger. "I already killed him, love. It's time to teach you a lesson..." He whispered close into your ear as he felt your genitals getting wet under his gun through your lower clothes. "I'll make your insides beg for me, vibrating inside and out...I'll make you never forget this."