Frankenstein's Bastard Child

Volume 8

Father's mansion was a thirty bedroom, 3 stories, and specially constructed to resemble the house from The Great Gatsby. It was nestled in enough wooded area to the point where it would have taken emergency services 40 minutes to get here, assuming the people at the gate let them in. No need to worry of course, there's trained doctors and guards on site in case of an emergency. Only thing is a certain someone hasn't been paying them so no one's inclined to show up meaning me and Muvere have the entire place to ourselves. They laid me down on a red velvet loveseat. I'll give it to the old man, dude was an asshole but he sure knew how to pick furniture. Everything was going fine physically but my body still didn't register the new muscle tissue so I'd need to exercise my joints a bit. The love seat was right next to the fireplace so I taught Muvere how to light it. They looked really surprised at first but seemed really pleased with themselves. Currently I was having them massage my calves and inner thigh. A couple of the white coats had dabbled in physical therapy so that was definitely a plus, they made it look so natural it was almost like I was watching a professional at work. Still it didn't sit well that I was totally in the dark as to what all this meant. What was everyone doing in the towers? Why was my father there? Who or what is Muvere even supposed to be? But most importantly-

"What do I do now?"

Muvere looked up at me a bit confused and a little sympathetic. They began to fidget with their hair; it was still long and still went around their ankles. I still didn't know what exactly they were but right now it didn't matter. This was a person, a real living person and like people Muvere deserves happiness and the freedom of choice not just the illusion.

"Is getting a haircut normal? I've always either had really long hair or cleanly shaved. I'm sorry if that sounds sad but the memories I've experienced from the tower felt really nice. It felt special. Wearing clothes, eating good food, and even just being able to move well it just feels like a dream. If you'll allow me, I'd like to make those dreams real." Now I was confused.

"Why do you ask me?"

"Because you own me now don't you?" I would've laughed my ass off at the ridiculousness of the thought if I didn't feel genuine sympathy for them.

"No. Definitely not. In fact no one does. I gave you your sock, you're free." Maybe that was a bad reference, they started looking around near their feat trying to find the sock.

"Come on" I sat up, a bit light headed at first but I'd manage. "Let's get a little weight off your shoulders." I scooted across so that Muvere's head was between my knees facing the fireplace in front of us. Corkscrews were a dime a dozen in this house so it wasn't surprising to find one in the coffee table drawer just to the right of the love seat. It wasn't ideal but it'll have to do.
It only took 15 minutes to deal with the length and by that time the feeling had come back into my legs. Muvere refused to look at any mirrors until it was done. I wasn't exactly a professional but I didn't do too shabby considering the 6 feet of hair lining the bathroom floor and the fact that my original plan was to go with a wolf cut. But still this was definitely a nice pixie cut. Finally Muvere came to the mirror with closed eyes practically bouncing on the balls of their feet. I really hope I didn't fuck this up. It hadn't even been a second before both of their arms were wrapped around me. I didn't have time to react so it was less of a hug and more of a grapple attack. We'll work on hugging later.

"Thanmph yuww thamph yewm I qwuant I qwuant." Their voice was muffled into my clothing but I could kinda get the gist of it but what really got to me was the fact that I could feel moisture build up around my chest. They were crying. I made them cry. It was so insignificant and if anything it was natural who wouldn't cry if they got their first good haircut at such a matured age (age unknown) I would cry too. Just a week ago I would've killed to be able to cry like this, to feel like this, to be understood like this. It felt like after all these years I could finally let my guard down over such a little thing. I could die today, tomorrow, or even now but I didn't care, this was perfect.

"I don't know where we'll be tomorrow so let's make the most of today Sweets, why don't we get you some proper clothes next." They looked up giving me puppy eyes (felt a bit weird to say but just rolled with it).

"Wait, what did you call me? Sweets? That's not my name. But I like it, why?" I guess they don't know what a pet name is. How should I explain?

"It's something I call people that are near and dear to him and right now that's you. Do you have a problem with it?" They began to squirm a bit. Despite not being completely human they still give out heat. Even more so after my little comment. I have little clue how this is happening or what exactly is going on here but I guess this is nice and I can tell that Muvere needed a little TLC right about now so it's fine.

"Hey Muvere, wanna go have a little fun. This mansion has ten rooms fully equipped with walk in wardrobes. Plus I know someone who used to live here that was secretly a huge music buff so what do ya say? Wanna play dress up and rock out!?" Their eyes began to glisten with anticipation. This is it, let's blow the roof off this place!

I looked to the mirror, the first mirror I'd seen in a while that actually made me curious of what exactly had happened to my appearance. Every reflection I had seen before I never really paid attention to either because I was too drunk or I just couldn't bring myself to take a glance. What made things so different now? Through fire and hell what would be left behind of the woman that started life as a- wait what was I again? Maybe I was always like this, maybe I was always what I am now but how would I compare to the me in my head to the me in the mirror? There was no point in waiting longer for something that was always there. I wiped the fog from the mirror to see the damaged mess before me. One side of my face was as clean as it could be, the only residual damage being a small scar on my bottom lip but the other was a sight to see. Already greasy subpar skin met wrinkled seared flesh around everything but my eyes and nose as if my entire face had been consumed in flames bloomed from gasoline. I knew I would be a different person from here on end but I wasn't expecting this, the amount of change in such a short amount of time and yet mentally. I don't feel any different. Could I grow to love the strange figure before me? What would that even mean? How long could I go without being able to look at myself? I turned away from the mirror just about ready to vomit only to feel the draw of the cheap reflective surface pull me back. My hands began to shake as my back was still turned, my muscles tense in anticipation until I couldn't hold it back any longer and gave in to the lustful grasp of curiosity. This time the image seemed to be distorted, the relaxation showed an elegant ballroom with me standing at the center. Blood strewn across my face and onto a flashy black and red dress. Those same scars still persisted but this time they did not give me a feeling of shame. But of pride. The corner of the mirror chipped and the image shifted to lashing images of screaming prisoners and strung out bodies lining the floor of a velvet room. As seconds passed the images began to speed up becoming more and more terrifying by each passing moment. A pregnant woman being held at gunpoint, a dog eating a radio bit by bit, a corpse, a spider, and finally a hand mirror with Muvere's picture in the center. A hand dragged across the image causing the picture to bend and warp. Just as the last picture flashed my fist collided with the mirror shattering it into bits and pieces several of which landed on my leg and arm. My head throbbed from the sudden shock, pain flooded into my throat and caused me to stumble backwards. After catching my breath for a bit I used the sleeves of my shirt to make make-shift bandages. Everything in the room seemed to have shifted one centimeter to the right, nothing quite felt normal any more and the way I see it I have two options. Lie down and accept my identity as an abomination or slay the one woman in the mirror. My hand reached for a shard of glass the size of a small pocket knife and positioned the point to my throat as I eyed my reflection on what was left of the mirror. My own hatred and bile built in my throat as my grip shattered the glass shard in hand leaving a thousand tiny splinters on it.

"Not now." I begun to pull the pieces out of my hand. "Not this time. There's still things I want to see."