Chapter Text
Three hours after arrest.
A lone guard sat in his station to buzz in personnel vehicles into the Lovecraft Asylum for Unstable Outcasts. The day was slow and quiet, reading a magazine as he waited for what seemed like hours for the next van or car to arrive. Anything to pass a few minutes of time doing something. According to the shift manager a particularly violent patient was being checked in today so all staff had to be ready for the worst.
The guard was skimming through an ad for the latest in outcast psychiatric treatments when an armored vehicle was spotted down the road. Assuming the truck on the way was the new unstable patient the guard got himself ready to undergo the check in procedures; proof of ID, name of patient, and other typical questions that are recited over and over the longer he stays at this dead-end job.
The armored truck pulled up, the driver wore a medical mask and sunglasses. The guard suddenly felt the hairs on his neck prickle.
“Uhm...Checking in or picking up?” He asked with an uncontrollable tremble in his voice.
The driver in the asylum uniform turned his head to the guard, the slow movement was unnerving “We got quite the nutter in the back of this truck. One of those Hyde fellows. Real nasty one, took six aids to subdue him at that outcast academy out by Jericho.” the driver’s voice was a little too lighthearted for containing such a patient in the back of said vehicle.
The guard filled out his section of the paperwork on his clipboard, “So...we’re checking in...” he looked up at the driver from his spot by the truck door, sweat beading on his forehead despite the chill in the air.
The driver tilted his head, “What’s wrong? Nervous about the psycho killer in the back?”
The guard shakes his head, “No...no,” he couldn’t for the life of him keep his anxiety in check. “First I need the patient’s name and after that I’ll need to see your ID to buzz you in.”
“Ahhh,” the driver nodded to the guard, “The beast in the back is Tyler Galpin- that’s G-A-L-P-I-N.” The driver drummed his fingers on the truck door, “I hate it when they spell it with an ‘H’.”
“Excuse me?”
“Huh? Oh, I just feel bad for the poor guy. I guess his dad shot him and he got his ass kicked by a werewolf chick. Aaaaaand the girl he likes might stab him the first chance she gets. You know how the ladies are.”
“Yeeeeeaaaaah,” the guard said slow and worrisome. Most of the staff with the exception of doctors and counselors don’t get too involved in patient relationships, certainly not one as described. “You have that ID, sir?” He asked, ready to be done with this check-in as the driver gave him a serious case of the creeps.
“My ID, huh. Lemme just take a look,” the driver looks around before he shook his head, “damn it all, my badge is attached to my belt. Can you come a bit closer real quick?” The driver beckoned the guard.
The foolish staff member complied and once he was close enough to the truck window his eyes widened in terror as a growl was heard from the driver’s seat before he was pulled into the truck through the window. He bellowed a scream that died out as a stream of blood sprayed out from the window his body was pulled into. The door opened, the guard’s body slumped out and rolled onto the ground covered in blood and deep gashes across his skin. A pair of feet hit the ground before stepping out and slamming the door behind him.
Covered in bloody uniform Tyler Galpin took a look around and gave the dead guard a pat on the back telling him “Good job helping me get out of here. Just put some ice on it.” before he slinked away to the wooded area nearby.
Five hours after arrest.
Tyler wandered aimlessly through the woods a free man for officially two hours according to the watch he stole from the dead driver he left behind. The sun was shining and the Vermont breeze was chilly. The monster boy, still covered in blood, raised his arms in the air before spinning around until his head spun, he was free. Free of his father, free of Jericho, free of that wretched Marilyn Thornhill after he felt their perverse bond break. He sincerely hoped to the sun, stars and sky she died after her plan to destroy Nevermore failed. The Hyde and Jekyll were fighting internally to the point of madness, sure, but the bliss of freedom at the expense of his sanity was worth the exchange.
The murderer laughed as he fell to the ground in a dizzy heap in pine needles and leaf mold, “So whattaya wanna do?” he asked aloud to no one in the woods.
A twig snapped nearby, the Hyde boy’s eyes darkened and he sat up, “you hear that?”
His eyed lightened and his features softened, “Yeah, what was it?”
“Someone’s close,” the lower voice purred, “I can smell them.”
“What do you suppose we do?”
“Oh...You already know what I’m going to do.” The Hyde speaking through Tyler snarled with bared teeth.
“God, do you ever get enough?!” Tyler Screamed at himself, a sudden wave of guilt began to drown him. He buried his fists in his curls before he slid them down to cover his face. His panic setting in after he was sent away. It was all over and he was still a villain, not the boy who felt lost, unheard or misunderstood.
He was alone again and all the friends he met, so many in such a short time, were now gone, likely forever. Growing up alone was one thing, having it be the only thing he knew; but to have someone who unexpectedly visited through all hours of the night or encouraged suppressed behaviors because she admired the traits of a human others found uncivilized leave? It was battery acid in his blood, it was necrosis in his skin and bones. And he had no one to blame but himself.
Too preoccupied with his conversation with himself, Tyler never suspected the other in the forest to approach. He felt a shock of electricity wrack through his body and the world went black before he hit the grass. And he prayed whoever had a hold on him had an idea what they were up against.