Bram Stoker's HANNIBAL

Chapter 35: Sorrows are Strong Within

Chapter 35: Sorrows are Strong Within

Dr. Chilton's Diary.

(Kept in phonograph)

15 August.—Ebb tide in appetite to-day. Cannot eat, cannot rest, so diary instead. My courtship with Miss Alana Bloom has thoroughly distracted me from my work here at the Purfleet Hospital for the Criminally Insane, and though I am reluctant to mention any personal matters in my official records, for the sake of full disclosure, I feel I must. Any day now, I know the time will be right for me to make my grand proposal, and the details of taking her as my wife have been swirling through my mind, making little things such as hospital administration seem rather a bore.

Ah, Alana Bloom! Those flashing eyes, her lovely smile, they are my obsession. How convenient, also, that she happens to be the heiress of Hillingham. Not that I have an eye on her fortune, no, of course not! I have a very respectable hospital to run and am well-appointed. No, my delight lies in her brilliant mind and ravishing beauty. I'll have an opportunity to see her again in a matter of days. I have received an invitation to a welcome home party for her family's ward, Mr. Will Graham, formerly Inspector Will Graham. Yes, that very Will Graham that caught Saucy Jack the Ripper and sent him straight to Hell, only to be trapped in the mental landscape of Abel Gideon, chained to the man's ghost, as it were.

Now, Will Graham practices real estate law. I know, it's shocking – many of us chase a reputation like this our whole lives. And yet, once he rids London of one of its most fearsome killers, all he wants is to disappear into obscurity. Well, I suppose it is in his nature to avoid attention. He's always been an abrasive, antisocial sort of man with no breeding to speak of. Everyone knows his origin story – street urchin of New Orleans scooped up by the Christian charity of the Blooms. Even surrounded by manners and grace, being fully educated and trained, alas, he is still not a gentleman. I digress –

On his way home from a business trip, Will Graham took ill with a brain fever. Sweet Alana says in her letters he was exhibiting symptoms similar to those that befell him after the Ripper case, and that I should prepare to make house calls to Hillingham if need be. I believe they should be arriving in Whitby tonight where Mr. Graham will continue to convalesce, invigorated, I hope, by the sea air. Once he's at his full strength, they will at last return to London.

Alana's always had a soft spot for the family's foundling, part of her caring nature that will make her a wonderful wife. At the moment, I admit a certain disdain for the man, as he is keeping us apart, but in the grand scheme, if it wasn't for him losing his mind after the Ripper case, I never would have had cause to visit Hillingham. Now I may have cause again, opportunities to win Miss Bloom's hand.

Furthermore, I've always had a fascination with Will Graham's mind, as have many in London's psychiatric circles. He's a great topic of conversation, and many of us are fascinated by his particular brand of pure empathy. If he were to, say, need to spend some time in a facility to reestablish his sanity, I have no doubt Alana would entrust him to my care. And that... that would be a rare opportunity indeed. I could write a book about him!

Alas, I am getting ahead of myself. Tonight, my mind was swirling with thoughts and notions, fancies and dreams of romance. As I knew that the only cure for this sort of thing was work, I went down amongst the patients. I picked out one who has afforded me a study of much interest. He is so quaint that I am determined to understand him as well as I can. To-day I seemed to get nearer than ever before to the heart of his mystery.

I questioned him more fully than I had ever done, with a view to making myself master of the facts of his hallucination. In my manner of doing it there was, I now see, something of cruelty. I seemed to wish to keep him to the point of his madness—a thing which I avoid with the patients as I would the mouth of hell.

I will now share my observations. Randall Tier — 26 years of age. Sanguine temperament; great physical strength; morbidly excitable; periods of gloom. He's been my patient for the last three years, having been committed by his family. As a child he was known to have an obsession with predator animals, particularly wolves, bears, and big cats. While most of the time he was a calm and obedient boy, in times of stress he would lash out, his preferred method being to savagely bite others. Sometimes these others were the source of anguish: a schoolyard bully, his elder sister, a Sunday School teacher (that was an interesting story; she'd told him animals don't have souls and therefore do not go to heaven, which earned her a chomp on the arm).

Other times, those receiving his attacks are random strangers. As he grew older and more clever, he learned to be more socialized and did not ever exhibit his animal behaviors in front of friends, schoolmates, or family. However, once he left his parents' care and began his apprenticeship articulating skeletons and preparing taxidermy for the Natural History Museum, Randall Tier's obsession took a dark turn. He began stalking people in the countryside or in the parks, lurking about as though he were a predator on the hunt. At last, one night, he could no longer fight his urges, and attacked a wagon-driver on the road between London and Purfleet, dragging him off into the woods. He was dressed in a home-made costume of animal furs, with fully articulated hand braces that had been fitted with razor-tipped claws. Damn near killed the poor fellow; the driver was able to get in a lucky shot and threw Randall off of him. Tier's head struck a rock and he was stunned long enough for the man to escape, covered in gashes and bite marks.

Needless to say, my interesting patient was apprehended, tried, and delivered into my care. I must find out what drives these urges, and see if I can alleviate them, cleanse his mind of his animal instinct, and, someday, return him to society. He is one of the most fascinating lunatics in the country, and to think – he's in my hospital. Well, I'd best be off and see what he might be able to tell me.

(End of Recording)