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A warm breeze pushed past black locks. The unsteady steps continued through the forest. Leaves and twigs bent to the crushing pressure of his boots as he treaded onward. A singular goal in mind. Victor Frankenstein was used to scavenging for corpses, yet this time was different. Where indifference once stood at the idea of robbing the dead, somberness now plagued his heart.
It had been months since the fire.
In one decisive moment, he had set the tower aflame and lost everything in turn. His creation was dead. The tower exploded, and the voice that had once called his name went quiet.
He crossed the countryside on his own. Victor still remembered where the ruins stood.
Past the fields and beside the cliff were the ruins of the place he briefly considered his home. The final resting place of the creature. He had taken everything from the being he created, even robbing it of its life. It was too late, but at the very least, he could honor the body with a proper burial. Giving a final act of grace to a being he had failed so terribly.
His prosthetic was beginning to wear down the skin on his amputation site. He stifled a groan. Victor leaned against a nearby tree.
He needed to rest.
His hands rubbed the worn limb. He stayed alert, focused on every sound that the woods made. It was dangerous for him to be alone. He could not rest here. Not with the possibility of wolves and the like lurking in the shadows.
Victor forced himself to keep walking. The tree began to dwindle until a large field came into view. Just over it, a cottage was settled.
He pushed himself forward toward the small home.
Victor raised his hand and knocked.
He hoped someone was inside. The cottage seemed older. There was no livestock in the pen. The mill was not moving. He sighed, wondering if he had made a mistake.
Then the door swung open.
Victor looked to see a frail, blind man.
"Can I help you, good stranger?" His eyes did not meet Victor's; they looked somewhere past him.
“Pardon my interruption, sir. I am traveling, and I merely wished to ask if I could rest inside. I would not bother you if I were not worried about the wolves. I will not be long; you have my assurance."
The old man shifted to make room for him. "Worry not of it. Come inside."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, of course. You must have made quite a journey to have found yourself here."
Victor stepped past the threshold of the small cottage.
"What is your name, young man?"
"Victor."
"Please, make yourself at home," the old man said warmly.
"I do not want to impose."
"There is no need to be humble; so long as you are in this place, you are an honored guest."
"You're too kind." He found a chair and sat down. His leg felt relieved at finally being allowed to rest after such a long journey. "I will not be a nuisance long, I assure you. Once the morning comes, I will be on my way."
"Again, I remind you, my friend, you are free to stay however long you need."
Victor was not about to argue with the man's generosity. "Thank you."
"May I ask, if possible, where you are headed, young stranger?"
Victor set down his bag, yet a weight was still heavy in his chest. "I'm headed for a funeral," he said softly.
"I'm sorry to hear that, young man." The old man shifted in his seat; his unseeing eyes were transfixed in Victor's direction. "Someone you were close with?"
The baron paused. He never truly knew his creature. Whatever passions and distastes his creation would have had were now lost in the ruins of the tower. He would never see him grow into his own man. Victor had ruined that when he killed him.
"Yes," he answered.
Within those short months, his life had revolved around his creation. It was ironic. He had spent years being obsessed with creating him, and now that he was dead, Victor would spend the rest of his life being haunted by his memory.
"Please, take whatever you need, I assure you it bears no trouble on us."
“Us?”
The old man smiled wistfully. "Yes, I have a friend who is keeping me company for the coming winter. He went to gather some food from the forest. When he returns, I shall introduce you. I have no doubt you will enjoy his company as well. He is soft-spoken if a bit shy, but he is good-natured and patient. He has been a blessing in my life for these past months."
Victor nodded. "He sounds like a good man."
"He is. Very much so."
The old man guided him toward an empty bedroom. It was offered to him for the night. Victor was too exhausted to refuse such kindness. He set his bag on the ground beside the closed door. He relieved himself of his coat and tossed it onto the bed. He scoured the room. It was simple with a bed, window, wardrobe, and a nightstand.
He lay on the comforters and stared at the wall. He did not deserve this. None of it. Would it not have been better if he had succumbed to the flames along with his creation? His horrid self should have been reduced to ash in the tower. The other outcome had not been better.
William tried. He knew his brother was a good man, and that was why he left. Victor knew he would only taint his life with Elizabeth further. She did not look at him anymore. He could not look at himself, so for once, they were in agreement there.
He curled into himself. The sheets were cool against his burning skin. The taste of peace was bitter on his tongue. Victor did not know what he was going to do after he buried his creation. His whole life had been dedicated to his creation; now he had nothing but memories that sounded more like the ravings of a madman.
His eyes flickered back to his ring. It held no weight anymore. Nothing truly did now.
A sharp coldness crawled up his spine.
Victor sat up. He turned to look at the window. There was nothing outside. Merely the sun and the flower fields. Yet, he felt like something had been watching him.
He observed the window for a minute longer. No sound came from behind the glass, and no shadows moved in the corner of his eyes.
He brushed it off. Perhaps he was more tired than he believed. Victor lay back down on the bed before falling asleep.
When he awoke, the smell of savory rabbit lingered in the air. Victor sat up in bed and peeked through the door. The old man was seated beside a dwindling fire. A cauldron was looming above the flames.
He stepped out of the room and into the living room. His boots creaked against the floor.
"Oh, you're awake?" The old man asked out loud.
"Yes."
"Good." The old man smiled. "You're just in time for dinner."
Victor glanced at the stew in the cauldron. "You cooked?" He inquired curiously.
"No, it was my friend." The old man slightly frowned. “I believe he stepped out for a moment. He's a shy young man."
Victor nodded.
"Please help yourself to the food."
The baron did just that. He served himself and the old man. They quietly ate, with the occasional question thrown his way. Some more personal than others, but he tried his best to answer, despite feeling the same peculiar feeling from earlier. Almost like something was watching him. He ignored it, even as his skin prickled during the rest of the meal.
The feeling was sharp. It was like a pressure sitting on his chest, threatening to break his ribs.
Victor’s eyes burst open. His eyes frantically searched the darkness of the bedroom. He was being watched. Another presence was in the room. The smell of earth and wildflowers clung to the air. It wasn’t like that before. He sat up in the bed when his eyes landed on the figure in the corner. His back hit the headboard, trapping him with the mysterious person. They stood tall. Much too tall, in a way that seemed familiar.
The stranger stepped forward, revealing their face in the moonlight.
Victor's heart stopped.
"You..." The creature spoke. "Are the visitor?"
His throat was tight with emotion. His creation was alive. Tears threatened to spill out as he looked over the creature. He wore the clothes of a man, with long hair crowning his face. The words that stumbled out of his mouth were rough and almost uncertain, but they were spoken, nonetheless. He had learned to speak. God, he had learned to speak.
The baron managed to nod. "Yes, I was invited in. He is a kind host."
The creature watched him intently.
Victor looked at him as well, ingraining every detail to memory. He looked older; there was a sureness in the way he stood. His eyes were not slowly blinking as he innocently stared; this gaze was sharper. There was a sense that he was aware of every small detail Victor gave away.
The creature approached him until he reached the edge of the bed. His eyes looked down at Victor.
Those eyes were taking him in, thinking. Something twisted in Victor's stomach. Was he remembering him? Would he believe that Victor somehow followed him to his new home? Would he inflict the same torment Victor had inflicted on him?
The creature's mouth parted. "I know you."
The words made him shrink back slightly. The air ripped the air out of his throat.
The creature crouched down to his level. "Your face, I have seen it before."
Victor did not speak a word; fear settled into his chest, weighing him down from saying anything.
"You were someone important to me, once.”
He didn't remember, not fully at least. This calmed Victor enough that he felt he could breathe.
"Where do I...know you from?"
"I'm a medical student," Victor tried to keep his voice steady.
The statement did not seem to strike anything in the creature's memory.
"I see patients now and again, perhaps you were one,” he lied.
The creature's eyes flickered downward, considering Victor's response. It was clear from his expression that no such memory came to mind, yet he could not find another to fill the void in his memories.
"Perhaps."
The creature leaned close. It took in Victor, as if trying to remember more.
“Are you his friend?” He asked, thinking of the old man.
The creature blinked at the question. It seemed he had not fully changed.
“Yes, he is my friend, and I am his.”
“That’s good. I am glad you have friends,” he said sincerely.
The creature studied him. “Were you mine?”
“Pardon?” Victor paused. “You mean your friend? I’m sorry, I cannot recall.”
“I must not have been very memorable.”
“I think you are memorable,” Victor added quickly.
“I do not believe it is for good reasons,” the creature spoke softly. “You have not attempted to run, though.”
“There is no need to. You are beautiful.” Victor realized he had spoken too honestly when he saw the creature’s eyes widen. “You’re a kind man, and I think there is beauty in that,” he hurriedly added.
The creature looked away. His eyes avoided Victor’s. After a few moments of him fidgeting with his hands, he left. The baron was alone again.
The following morning, the first thing Victor did was pack his things. He was quick to push his clothes inside and close the latch of his satchel. His fingers turned the doorknob softly. The last thing he wanted to do was draw attention.
He slipped out of the room, only to find the old man waiting in the kitchen. Even his light footsteps were not enough to evade the man's hearing.
“Good morning,” he greeted.
"Good morning." Victor approached the old man quickly. “I wanted to thank you for your hospitality during my time here. I cannot give you enough of my gratitude, but I must be going now."
"Are you sure? My friend left to gather some nuts for breakfast."
The phrase ‘my friend’ sent Victor's body into a rigid stillness. He did not want the creature to come back and see him leave.
“It is alright, you have helped me enough already."
The old man sat silent for a moment. “My offer still stands. If you ever need a place to call your home, you are more than welcome."
Victor swallowed thickly. "Thank you. For everything."
He turned toward the door and opened it. Victor looked at the old man one final time. He bit his tongue before he could say it. Take care of him, better than I ever did.
Careful not to overwork his leg, Victor took short steps. Each one hurt more than it should, but it had nothing to do with his amputation or the prosthetic. His heart was suffocating. He pushed on even as it felt like he would collapse the further he distanced himself from the house.
He approached the wooden arches, the threshold of the property. A lump formed in his throat until he stopped walking. A broken sound escaped him. He raised his hand and covered his traitorous mouth. Tears slipped out. He muffled his sobs with his palm.
He would never see his creation again.
It was for the best, he told himself. The creature deserved a quiet, peaceful life, nothing of him staining that happiness.
Victor wiped those tears and breathed. He looked up ahead at the woods. Briefly, he considered what to do now.
A single word rang out.
"Victor!"
The hairs on the back of his neck stood. He slowly turned around to see the creature running toward him.
-------------------------
The day was lovely when a warm breeze trickled past the leaves. Birds seemed to be in a much more vibrant mood as they sang their songs through the trees. The creature carried the berries he collected in a small basket. He had noticed his friend had a preference for the blackberries he found. The walk was longer, but he did not mind. For his friend, he was willing to make the journey.
He approached the cottage that had become his home over the last few months. He treaded the white small flowers of the fields, watching as butterflies took off into the air. He approached the back of the home where his friend had left the door unlocked, waiting for his return.
The creature passed by the window of the grandson’s room. In the corner of his eye, he saw a man. His body went rigid. Goosebumps spread across his nape.
He took a step back and gazed inside. His eyes had not deceived him; there was a man lying on a bed in one of the rooms. Yet, it was not a member of the old man’s family.
His form. His hair.
The creature's grip on the basket tightened. Something about him was familiar.
He shifted in place, trying to get a look at his face.
His memories from before the mill were nothing more than pieces, with a heavy fog covering the rest. Yet when he looked at this stranger, there was something pulling at his mind, almost like a thread. He wanted to unravel it.
The stranger suddenly sat up.
The creature hid behind the wall. His heart was beating fast. He was afraid that the man would see him and run away in his panic. But he also desperately wanted to see his face.
His fear won out in the end as he hurried toward the front of the cottage. He kept his head down as he entered the home. The old man shifted in his seat when he heard the door creak open.
"You're back?" He asked.
"Yes, I brought some food."
"Wonderful." The old man smiled through his beard. "I'm sure our new visitor will enjoy it tonight.”
The creature kept his hand steady over the basket. "Visitor?”
"Yes, a man ended up on the doorsteps this morning. He is traveling and said he needed somewhere to rest briefly. I welcomed him in. He's been sleeping in my grandson's room for a few hours now. I believe he's more tired than he wishes to admit. Both in body and mind."
"Will he be staying long?" The creature hoped he would.
"I am not sure; he seems to be in a hurry to continue on his way."
"Oh," he said, somewhat disappointed.
"He will likely awaken by supper time, then I'll introduce you both."
A noise of panic was stuck in the creature's throat. "I do not think that would be..."
"Why not?"
"I believe people find me difficult to look upon."
"You are a good, kind man. He will see that."
The creature was hesitant to believe this friend’s kind words would work in his favor.
He cooked dinner before disappearing. The floorboard squeaking let him know that the visitor had risen from bed. He lingered behind the wooden boards of the mill. The creature peeked inside where the old man and the visitor were sitting.
The stranger was a compassionate man, he found. He set the table and rose from his chair to serve his friend supper. He was careful in his actions and attentive to the older man.
Though the creature could somewhat see his face, it was slightly hidden in the shadows. The fireplace was the only light in the cottage.
Yet, his face was not the only mysterious aspect of the man, however. He was rather quiet.
"What do you plan to do after your journey?"
"I…do not know." The answer was short but honest.
He sounded just as lost as the creature felt. A part of him was stuck somewhere he could not define. A past that was lost to him.
"I hope you do not think me too direct, but once you have finished the business you must attend, know my home is always open to you. I would be more than happy to have you here."
The creature observed. Anticipation filled his being. He wanted the man to say he would. To promise to return. Something about the visitor drew him in.
"I appreciate your offer," he responded.
The creature wanted for him to say more, but he never did; he fell back into his silence soon after.
Night fell, and his curiosity grew to be too much. He slipped into the bedroom. During his time with the family, he had learned how to move silently without waking the old man. Each of the floorboards were like the stiches in his hands, he knew each distinct one. The creature closed the door slightly, careful not to cause the doorknob to creak. He turned toward the stranger. He was asleep on the bed. From the gentle rise of his chest, he could tell he was breathing. He approached the edge of the bed. The moonlight was peeking through the window.
A trembling gasp escaped.
His face. He had seen this man before.
He tried pulling the thread in his mind that could lead him to unlock his memories. But he couldn't. Something was stopping his attempts. An obstacle he couldn't hurdle over.
It hurt because he knew him. In his heart and soul, he knew that this man had meant something to him once.
His eyes suddenly opened. The creature froze as they landed on him.
Those eyes. A deep brown that he was sure had gazed upon him once before. He took in his features. The visitor was beautiful. He looked like home.
"I know you." He faced the man at his level. "Your face, I have seen it before."
The visitor stared at him, eyes widening as he approached.
His voice was thick with emotion as he spoke ", You were someone important to me, once.”
He couldn’t remember. His memory was locked, but this man could be the key.
"Where do I...know you from?"
"I'm a medical student.”
Medical student? The words were unfamiliar to him.
"I see patients now and again, perhaps you were one.”
He thought for a moment. It did not seem right. For some reason, he could not imagine it. Yet, he was the one with scattered pieces in his mind, not the man. "Perhaps."
The creature considered the visitor. Even his voice was familiar, intimately so.
“Are you his friend?” The man asked.
“Yes, he is my friend, and I am his.”
“That’s good. I am glad you have friends.”
“Were you mine?” Somehow, he knew the visitor was his in some form or another.
“Pardon? You mean your friend? I’m sorry, I cannot recall.”
“I must not have been very memorable,” he mumbled to himself. A sense of melancholy flooded him. Even someone so important to him could not recognize his wretched face.
“I think you are memorable.”
“I do not believe it is for good reasons,” the creature paused. “You have not attempted to run, though.” That fact alone was holding the creature together.
“There is no need to. You are beautiful.”
The creature stilled at the words. They sounded genuine.
“You’re a kind man, and I think there is beauty in that.”
He could not meet the visitor’s gaze. His heart was beating rapidly in his chest. He could not understand why someone so beautiful would think the same of him. Even less, someone who did not remember him enough to care to spare his feelings. His hands fidgeted as he tried to remember.
Nothing. Not a thing.
He turned away and left, frustration clouding his head for the rest of the night.
The cottage was too quiet the following morning. He approached the old man, finding him alone near the door. None of the floorboards had creaked. The table had not been set. The creature placed the basket of food down.
"The visitor," the creature spoke softly. “Where is he?"
"He left a short while ago," the old man answered.
The creature frowned, disappointed by the news.
"He's running."
“From what?” The creature instinctively looked out the window where the wolves had once appeared.
"His past," the old man said. "I know the feeling well."
The creature looked at his friend, curiously.
“I once killed a man. A good man. For a long time, I pushed away the memory, ran from it, and what I had done. But I realized, it would not help me find peace. I had to find it in myself to forgive and move forward.”
"I think I understand," he replied. "Do you think he will too?"
"Perhaps, I only hope he finds peace eventually."
The creature stared at the door. "The visitor, what was his name?"
The old man hummed. "He said his name was Victor."
The creature froze.
Victor.
The word was like a key that unlocked the Pandora’s box in his mind. Everything rushed toward him at once. Hands. Same. Sun. Chains. Leaf. Elizabeth. Water. Leg, Fire. Victor.
He stood from his place on the floor and ran toward the door. He swung it open. The warm air pushed against his hair. Just under the arches, he could see his creator walking away, with his belongings in hand. He was leaving.
"Victor!" He roared.
The creature ran toward him. Every emotion rushed at once. Anger. Sadness. Hatred. Love. He sprinted across the dirt; the world had stilled, and all he saw was him. Victor.
He caught up to him. The man stood there only a few feet away. He wanted to close the distance, but he restrained himself.
"You remember," he stated, not asked.
"Your name, it was like a candle in the dark; it guided me back. I remember everything. The sun. The chains. The tower. The fire."
The man's eyes looked away at the last word. "You do remember," he confirmed.
"Yes."
"Do as you must. I will not fault you."
The creature stared at him. The words dawned on him. "I do not wish to harm you."
"You remember what I've done, everything I put you through, each moment of torment and loneliness I forced upon you. Yet you would let me live?"
"I wish to forgive, forget, and let it fade."
His creator, his Victor, nodded like he understood.
"That's good. It's astounding that you are so kind." He sighed softly. "It will be easy to move on once there are no more dark clouds looming over you...I shall do us both the favor and remove myself from your peace."
The creature frowned. "No, I do not want you to leave."
"How are you supposed to move forward when I am there to haunt your every waking moment?"
"You misunderstand me. I forgive you, Victor. Now, I wish to move forward with you.”
"You should not extend forgiveness so quickly, especially to ones so wicked as myself."
"Yet, it is my forgiveness to extend, and I give it to you."
"You have found happiness and peace at such a cost, I am madness calling you back into misery. I should not be able to simply walk into your life again. No, you deserve better." Victor held tight to his belongings, his eyes already falling back on the path ahead.
"Do not go," he pleaded. "Please, do not leave me again."
Victor did not move. The creature noted how he became tense under the words.
The wind blew past them. A silence followed. The grass and wildflowers were the only things that moved.
"You," Victor started. "Do not want me in your life. You believe you do, but I have known many who find me intolerable eventually. I walk alone for a reason."
"You wanted me to speak," the creature said. "So then listen to me now. I want you to be beside me. I wish to begin anew.”
"Why?" Victor asked him as if it were inconceivable. "Why would you wish to linger in the pain I have caused by having my presence loom over?"
"I am not lingering in the past; I wish to move forward. I cannot see what comes next, yet when I think of the future, I want you there with me."
Victor lowered his head, struggling to meet his eyes.
"Do you regret it?"
"Everyday."
"Do you feel remorse?"
"Yes."
"Do you care for me?"
Victor's jaw clenched. He was fighting against something within himself. He watched Victor's lip begin to tremble.
"Do you?"
"I do," the admission was soft.
The creature reached out, taking Victor's face in his hands. "Stay."
His Victor nodded.
He pulled the man close, embracing him like he had that first day. And like that first day, the sun was shining down on them as they stood amongst the wildflowers.