There was more blood on the floor than I was used to seeing. Obviously something had happened, and I needed to know what.

I dropped the blood stained knife onto the cobble stones. The dark crimson substance was splattered up the walls of the narrow alleyway and over my white suit shirt. The body of the my recent victim lay struggling on the cold stones. I picked up the immoral knife and pulled my leather coat tighter around my body. It was a chilly night, and the sight of the crime sent chills down my spine.

“Please … please … ” the woman gasped as she eventually slipped into her final sleep. Her dark eyes rolled to the back of her head. I felt enormous guilt for what it had done – and it wasn't the first time either.

“Hello?” a man called, stepping from the bar into the cold, outside world. His deep, thick London accent rang out in the alley.

I sneaked a glance at the approaching form, then at the dead female lying at my feet. I clutched the knife tighter in my stained gloves. I couldn't stop the murders. It was like trying to stop an alcoholic from drinking. It was terrible that I'd even begun killing in the first place. I had never in my wildest imaginings thought I would become a criminal of any sort. I'd never so much as thought about taking one's life or anything along those lines before it happened, and now it seems to have consumed my entire life.

I looked up at the man once more, then, still firmly clutching the knife, fled as fast as I could in the opposite direction.

The man stopped to check out the woman whose life I'd just claimed. He soon determined that she was dead, the truth laid out before him. He paused, contemplating the corpse, then yelled; “Jack the Ripper! He's murdered again!”

I discarded my shoes in the nearest trash can I could see. I don't want the police to follow the trails left behind by a foolish man.

I ran faster and harder than I ever had before, my adrenalin pulsing. Police would be roaming the streets in no time. They had been after me for weeks – but I had eluded capture. I rounded a corner and ran straight to the Professor's home. It was the only place where I could go and seek saftey. It was also the solitary place I could go and not be referred to as a monster.

“Ah, Jekyll! I was getting worried! I thought maybe you'd been caught!” Professor Aldwin Smith said. He was an elderly man, but that didn't ever seem to slow him down. He was obviously relieved that I'd returned whole, “Another night on the streets, I believe?”

“Yes, Aldwin, that is so. Another one gone. That poor girl. I nearly didn't make it out, a man spotted me as I was finishing me business,” I smiled, reaching for a glass on the small counter which was filled with alcohol.

“Is that so? How terrible. I'm glad you made it back. You don't suppose they could have followed you here? We'd both be done. And you're still covered in blood. You'd be done for murder, and I, probably because I never turned you in. You're Jack the Ripper, for Gods sake, Jekyll!” Aldwin took a sip of his drink, savoring the flavor.

“No, no, no, Aldwin,” I reassured him, “I made sure that I lost them before I came anywhere near here.”

“There's a good lad,” he paused, then asked, “How's Hyde been these days?”

“Getting worse, that's all I can say – he's getting strong and his lust for blood is worse than ever,” I took a mouthful of the golden liquid before setting the glass down, “I'm afraid things will go too far next time. I just want it to stop.”

Aldwin nodded his weary head, his eyelids were heavy with exhaustion. I honestly felt terrible for the guy – he'd hardly slept since the whole Jekyll and Hyde and Jack the Ripper thing.

“Right. Off to bed I go,” I told Aldwin, more for his sake than mine, then I turned and headed up the wooden stair case.

“Nighty-night, Jekyll,”

*

I thought it was the next night already, but it wasn't. It was hardly forty minutes after I decided to go to sleep. Hyde had managed to attack another woman again. He was getting more and more frequent – well, so it felt. And I didn't like it. Not one bit.

Arriving back at the Professor's place, I told him about the next one. This made four so far.

“Just stay in the house today, Jekyll. I'll stop by the lab and let them know you can't make it,” Aldwin patted me on the back. He always tried to be as supportive as he could, “Don't kill again until at least the 9th. It will be hard, but you must try. I know the lust for blood is becoming too much, but you need to strive to control the beast.” Aldwin paused, thinking about what to say next, “Hyde is trying to escape, Jekyll. He wants control. You mustn't give in. Kill once a month at least, make it two if you can. Just avoid coming to terms like this. Everyday is bad. Every night means he's gaining control, Jekyll, and I believe that you can stop it. Use his power to your advantage. You can beat it.”

Aldwin always referred to Hyde as “it”, “the beast”, or “the monster” because he believed that Hyde was not a person, rather something else, like an animal. Hyde is very much like an animal, but he is still another consciousness, a parasite at best, but still a consciousness. I liked to try see the good in people as much as I could, no matter how bad a person could've been. One man's freedom fighter is another man's terrorist. It just depended on what side you were viewing the person from. There were some good qualities to Hyde. Even if Aldwin didn't see them.

It had happened not too long ago. I'd just been experimenting in the lab. I'd always had confidence problems, and I wanted to find a chemical to help me with my problem. It had cost me many friends. The experiments only lead to the creation of Hyde. At first, I just thought as Hyde as a figment of my imagination. I was wrong. He was more than that. He was someone – or thing – that just wanted authority, wealth, and control. Two consciousnesses fighting for the one body. Someone had to go – and I didn't want it to be me, but he was cunning, strong, powerful and brave. It was only a matter of time until he'd take full control.

“Hyde is strong. He's hard to fight against. He talks in my head. He controls me without actually controlling me. He has incredible compulsion, Aldwin. It's bad. Very bad. Hyde could kill me right now, if that's what he wanted,” but he has also helped me in many ways – although I wouldn't tell Aldwin this. He'd be mad that I found something good in someone so bad. Hyde had helped me in so many ways, and no one would ever understand. He's not much of a physical helper, but he had helped me mentally. I'm more confident in public, for a minor one.

“Hyde needed an able host, Jekyll. Someone strong enough to carry two consciousnesses. He chose you,” Aldwin paused, then continued, “Hyde is mad. Mostly because you won't let him gain control, and he thinks killing others is the best way to weaken you! He's trying to mentally kill you. You must not give in!” If he's trying to mentally kill me, it's working. Hyde always knew the best ways to hurt a person. Even if he pretended to be helping them in the first place – and I fell for his tricks. He tricked me into thinking he was helping me, and it worked. Even to this day, I will always think he helped me in many ways.

“He thought right though, Aldwin. It's mad. I never wanted to be a killer. I still don't. It kills me inside to know that I'm hurting others like I am.”

“You are strong, Jekyll,”

“He's made a monster of me. He is a monster.” just the words that Aldwin wanted to hear about Hyde.

“And I'm late,” Aldwin grabbed his overcoat and top hat, and headed for the door, saying, “Good day, ol' chap,” and left.

*

I sat alone in the old place, thinking of how I was going to get through the next few days. Everyone was out looking for Jack the Ripper and trying to stop him and his murderous ways.

Hyde's need for blood was bad enough. It was hard for me to prevent the killings. They were the only things that kept Hyde at bay. Hyde was violent. However, without the Hyde, I would have died months ago. Hyde had saved me from that killer months ago, but in return he had posessed my instead. Except now Hyde was out killing others and seemed to want more and more blood and death each time. More people had to die in order for Hyde to be content. And that wasn't something I wanted to hear.

I spent the day lazing about. I cleaned up the entire apartment for Aldwin. Anything to keep myself entertained and not thinking of blood.

Aldwin came home not long after five in the evening. He was a good man.

“Afternoon, Jekyll,” He said cheerily.

“Afternoon, Aldwin,”

“Are you off to the Streets again tonight or trying to stay away?”

I had no idea. I didn't want to go out to the streets and murder again, but I felt I was compelled to. Hyde was strong. His vioce rang out in my head as if he were whispering in my ear;

“Go on, Jekyll. One more won't hurt … It's just one more prostitute. Whitechapel will be better off without them anyway … ”

“I have to … ” I muttered to Aldwin, feeling compelled by the voice of Hyde in my head. I grabbed my knife, leather overcoat, hat, and walked out into the cold night.

“This is the last one, Jekyll. This is the last one …” I kept telling myself.

The woman was walking down the street. I could see her. I could smell her. Hyde was hungry. I followed the woman down the deserted road, ready to attack. Before I knew what I was doing, the woman was on the ground. She wasn't dead though, luckily.

“Kill her,” this was the first time that I was 'conscious' during a killing – it was usually Hyde who did it. I'd have a black out in my memory.

“No,” I replied firmly.

“Do it. You can't resist me,”

“I can try,”

And try I did. I held off another murder until the 9th of November, 1888. It wasn't much, but it affected me like I'd finally done something useful. I felt that even someone as powerful as Hyde could be beaten by someone like me. I didn't want to be a murderer any longer. Over the next few years of 1889 to 1891, I'd managed to only fail myself four times, allowing Hyde four homicides. That was it. I was in control now.