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blayeart · 24 days

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Frankenstein’s Monster - Love Without Judgment (Fanfiction)

This story is an alternate universe within the world of Frankenstein by Mary Shelley. (1818) It takes place after chapter 16 when the cottagers reject the monster, and he burns their cottage down once they abandon it. …At the peak of his anguish, he encounters a generous woman who offers him aid. He clings to his new protector with all hope in the world. OC x Canon / Romance / Comfort

Ch.1

It was spring when she beheld the creature for the first time. He quickly stumbled down the road past her home as villagers shouted and tossed any item his way that could do harm. She cracked open her front door to catch a glimpse of the commotion outside. That was when she saw the cause of the villager's cries. The creature's height stood far above the greenery that lined her cottage. He held his bloodied hand close to his chest, a recent injury. What a sight. But she did not scream; she simply held her hand over her gaping mouth and watched as the creature ran as fast as his legs could carry him, blood trickling a faint trail. Men and women cursed his way: “Demon,” “Evil,” and “Monster.” They were convinced he was only here to do evil, such as kill children or destroy crops. “An omen from the devil,” one villager told her, “not to be trusted.”

But she watched with sympathetic eyes. How did he end up this way? What has he done to deserve such treatment? Were these acts of violence towards him deserved? After all, it was somewhat reminiscent. But a being like him, what could he be? And with such a humane expression, as if he were on the verge of tears, she wanted to find out for herself. Once the crowds subsided, she packed a medicine bag and bravely followed the blood trail.

She made her route into the woods, hoping it wasn’t too late to find him. The springtime brought fresh growth, such as wildflowers and tall grass. After what felt to be an hour searching amongst the brush, she heard the cries and groans of a tortured soul. Behind a thick oak, he sat, gripping his wrist in anguish. He clasped at the sizeable bloody gash on his palm. Frightened villagers likely caused this injury. Their eyes met, and he cowered, hiding his face above all else. He was more aware than anyone of what he looked like. While he waited in suspense for her screams, she took a moment to look him over. The sight was a frightening one and caused her to halt and step away. Her body told her to run but she stood her ground, seeing as he clearly was not a threat at this moment. Nature suited him; his form seemed to blend into the bark. He wore tattered clothes that hardly fit him. He was also barefoot and dirty. But what surprised her most was that even hunched over on the ground, she could tell he was a massive.

“How are you not afraid?” He spoke with a deep, gravelly voice, full of confusion. As he began to behold her, his eyes could not tear away anymore. She was a beautiful woman with a lovely dark complexion; average in size but still petite compared to him. She wore a grey skirt with a white apron, her sleeves were long and loose, and her waist was cinched by a corset.

“I am a little afraid,” she admitted, circling the oak while taking in the sight of his ghastly complexion. “Are you a demon?” She held back any sign of kindness for now. His discolored skin, soulless orbs, many scars, and long black hair made him feel otherworldly. She might not have dared approach him if she had found him standing. Meanwhile, her words stirred him.

“I am not! I am-” But he looked down in defeat and anger. He did not want to say what he believed he was- a monster. Instead, he returned his attention to the stinging pain on his hand. This caught her attention and at last, she kneeled before him to get a look at the wound herself. He was speechless and too scared to make a sudden move and frighten her. Because God knows, he had only ever frightened those around him.

“Let me see your hand.” She commanded, and so he did. She pulled out a bottle from her bag and began to explain. “I’ll clean your wound, but this will hurt. Is that alright?” He nodded and couldn’t imagine this pain to be any worse than what he had experienced so far. She poured water gently over the cut, in which he only flinched from the sudden cold. As the blood flowed off, she brought out another bottle, this time explaining that this pain would indefinitely be worse. Indeed, even he does not know the pain of alcohol being poured directly on an open wound. “This will hurt far more, but again, the feeling of pain is a good thing.”

“I trust you.” He admitted quietly, though he had no reason to. As the solution was poured over the wound, he instantly curled up in place and groaned, trembling from the unusual, shocking sensation. Yes, pain. It seems he was fated to always receive pain from those around him. “Arg- It hurts.” He did everything in his power not to tear away from the women. He did not want to seem ungrateful, as this was the only person who attempted to help him. She held his forearm as a sign of support and that he must wait for the pain to subside. It felt like forever, but finally, he overcame the strange treatment. The gentle touch of this woman had been such a blessing that alone kept him still and patient. In silence, she brought out a long strip of cloth and carefully wrapped up his wound. During this time, he discreetly observed her face. So beautiful, he thought, an angel is before me. But her face also filled him with a kind of torment that he may never have her. Too lovely for the likes of me. I must have tripped at some point and am hallucinating.

“Now do not remove that bandage for a while, and try not to close or open your hand; a gash like that can easily reopen.” He did as she instructed and laid his hand back onto his thigh, keeping his hand in a relaxed pose, just like she gestured. He took a moment to collect his thoughts as she placed her bottles back into her bag.

“You have shown me more kindness than any other human I have met.” He spoke precisely, recalling the cottagers he loved so dearly. “No… not even a single being has looked at me for more than a moment without condemning my death. In fact, only the blind will give me that time of day. So why have you decided to show me decency?” It was strange, she thought. His tone was hostile. Like hatred was all he had ever known. And it was true; he anticipated fear and anger from those around him. But he needed to understand why now- was he finally shown tenderness? The small woman looked thoughtfully at the creature before speaking.

“When you fled the village, I felt you were innocent. Most are so quick to judge and be fearful of what they don’t understand. After all, I have been treated the same.”

“A beautiful woman such as yourself being ridiculed?” She huffed at his doubt.

“Oh, you would be surprised by how close-minded these villagers are, even towards people that look like them.” She stopped before starting again. “You see, I practice medicine. The kind that will heal your wound in a reasonable amount of time.” He liked her voice; she spoke with a sense of purpose. “But medicine like this confuses people out here… because surely it must be the work of magic or some other kind of witchcraft.” She raised her brows mockingly. “Anyways… the villagers fear magic.” With a sigh, she calmed herself before saying much more. Afraid saying too much will draw out her memories. “I guess we are both devils in their eyes… So please, do not tell anyone what I’ve done for you this evening. They will burn me for it.”

“Burn you? Your own village would hurt you for acts of kindness?” She tilted her head with a sad but confirming expression. Yet he could believe it. This world was filled with horrible people, so his rage returned. “I am- once again, disappointed in the men before me. I was on my way to satiate my rage… To find my creator and try to put an end to this misery. I can still feel in myself- an unchecked hatred that wants to end all of humanity for its wrongdoings.” His head bows down toward his bandaged hand. “Oh, how I want them to feel the pain I suffer, to walk the dreaded path I have walked. Maybe then- I will be seen as an equal. But no- I am past trying to find humanity in such creatures.” He stopped himself and returned his gaze to the lovely woman beside him. It was as if he had forgotten that he had an audience that listened and stayed put. “I look like death, am treated like death, and therefore I tread the same path as death. But you- you are still here. The picture of beauty and youth before me… If I have to end all of humanity, I promise to leave you alone, unscathed.” He takes a moment to burn her image in his mind, but he wants more. He wants to reach out to her and experience the warmth of her skin on his. Just as she held his arm moments ago, despite all his vengeance, he ached for love.

Meanwhile, she sat and listened. Feelings of intrigue and shock passed through her mind as he spoke. Despite all that he had said, she felt no closer to understanding what he was. He shifted forward slowly and lifted his unwounded hand towards her face. “May I touch your cheek or hair? I will not hurt you.” Oh, he was hopeful of experiencing the touch of a woman. Instead, she took his eager hand, stopping his advances.

“First, tell me your name,” she asks with a smile. But he cannot smile, as the question surprised him.

“My name?” he looks around the forest, searching for an answer. “My name… My name is Adam.”

“Such as from the Old Testament?”

“Exactly! So you are well educated as well as skilled.” This compliment humbled her. He went on. “My creator- did not name me. But I am the first of my kind. Therefore, I have given this name to myself, rightfully so.” But he felt envious of the love that the real Adam received from his God.

“Please, you keep bringing up this creator. Who are you referring to?” He paused after her question. There was much to explain. He feared the entire story would frighten her and prove he was a monster after all. Yet he knew he had to be vulnerable now more than ever. This was his second chance to win over the heart of a potential companion. But the overwhelming rejection from De Lacy and his family was still fresh in his mind.

“You see, I was not born from a woman like you and all others that walk the earth. I never experienced infancy or a dream-like childhood. My creator was but a single man…” Adam took a slow breath. “Two years ago, he constructed me from corpses, likely to satiate his twisted fantasy to create life in unconventional ways. However, he did not want me. Just like every other who beholds me, he fled in fear.” His eyes wandered to the dirt below him. “Leaving me truly alone and wretched… Since then, my life has been hell. Without a home or a family, I struggle to find any sort of meaning...” Adam held his tongue, no longer desiring to speak on the matter. “Oh, pardon my manners. You must tell me your name.” He redirects his attention to the maiden.

“My name is Charlotte.” She tipped her head with a melancholy look. “I am… a little shocked to hear your story, Adam. Is this possible?” She observed him more closely but continued. “I struggle to comprehend the pain you’ve endured. I… wish I had found you sooner.” She did not feel the same disgust that most others have. It was apparent he had been treated horribly for most of his life.

“You have done more than that. I wish to repay you for your kindness somehow, whether you need me to bring wood to your home, clear snow in the winter, or any other laborious task you think I am fit for.” His offer was generous, and she pondered it. But then she chuckled as she began to imagine smaller tasks around her home that he could assist with.

“It’s humorous, actually. I have a few high places in my house that need dusting and some furniture I’d like to rearrange…” Charlotte was the owner of a large home that needed proper attention. She tapped her thumb on her chin. After hearing his story, she no longer feared the creature as she thought she would. Instead, she was intrigued to learn more. He was also a well-spoken and decent man; he would be a welcome mind to brighten up her home. Though he was not the most friendly-looking, she was not the type to judge.

“Your home? You’re inviting me into your home?” He was taken aback.

“Or would you rather not?” She teased.

“Oh, no- I would be more than happy to come with you.” His experience with shelter up to this point had been little to none. For months, he lived in a tiny hovel with little space to move around. Before that, only the light of a fire kept him warm in the frozen winter. To stay within an actual structure was a comfort he was unfamiliar with. He wanted this more dearly than anything. And to be in a home with his lovely new protector? Had God finally taken pity on him? Oh, how eager he was to finally experience this joy. To earn her friendship and presence for as long as possible.

“Alright, but let us wait till nightfall. I’m worried if anyone sees you enter my home, they will come for both of us. We shall keep it a secret.” And so they did. Night fell, and they returned to Charlotte’s home with darkness as their disguise. Her house sat near the edge of the village. Her home was made of stone and wood, with a lovely garden. He remembered it briefly from when he escaped the town earlier. She quickly beckoned him inside, but he had to bend down to enter through the door. Before locking up, she quickly looked up and down the road to ensure that there were no peeping eyes.

Her home was very dark, and he stood awkwardly for a moment when a small light appeared. She began to go about the living space, lighting one oil lantern at a time. Once it was easier to maneuver with dim light, she sat by the fireplace and gestured him over again. After adding new lumber and debris, she began to use a bellow on the cinders.

“You live alone?” Adam had just come to this conclusion.

“Yes.” She answered simply, with no further elaboration. As the cinders glowed furiously, she gave him the duty to bring the light to a gentle flame. He pushed the handles of the mechanism until the fire was flickering. Meanwhile, she disappeared into another room, so he waited patiently. There was joy in the comforting warmth of the fire, which he was already familiar with. The living room was quite comfortable, with many decorations and artwork hanging from the walls. A well-made couch sat in the center, and he couldn’t help but brush his fingers through the wool carpet below him.

Charlotte returned, gently tapping his shoulder and praising his accomplishment. Her hand softly grazed the back of his head before she turned away again, removing her shoes and apron by the door. This gentle gesture caused him to watch her move about the room. She touched him so easily, he thought. He approached her from behind with some hesitation, and his hand came down to pat her head. She flinched away from his unexpected presence.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you...” Charlotte took note of his shy nature as he backed away. Though his presence still did cause her to falter, she wanted to look at him objectively. Adam was like a child when it came to being with other people, but still, a considerable man whose head nearly brushed her ceiling. He looked down at her with kind, woeful eyes. Charlotte took his hands and pulled him to the couch before the fire, so they were closer in height now.

“Now don’t rub my head like that, you’ll pull on my hair… See, like this.” She reached up to rub the back of his head, gently gliding her fingers over his hair. He understood right away and initiated the touch in return. She smiled and welcomed it. His large hand glided over the top of her head, avoiding her braiding. It was evident to both that this was hardly an act of friendship. But contained a certain amount of affection, which neither of them disliked.

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