The Journal
I am told I have a son by a woman I barely remember.
She does not want anything from me, except to deliver the news in person, as the boy is older now.
Stein says she will beg for money soon. He says I should never give her any, but there is a part of me that thinks, perhaps, he is wrong.
He will stop me though, from my experiments, if I seek her out.
And the boy.
My… son.
He will stop me from ever breaking free, won’t he?
I have had too much to drink tonight because I could not hurt the sullen boy and instead, let him scar me, and even now, blood oozes along this parchment.
The mask, the one I wore to hide from the shame my mother would have toward me if she ever saw me after my disappearance, it serves two purposes now.
I should have seen the scalpel, but…
He was shaking before me, on the bed, and I thought of my own son.
I hope no one hurts him like I hurt Stein’s.
It is nights like tonight I wish for death. It is nights like tonight I do not believe Gates.
Not at all.