It felt like falling, like that sudden adrenaline rush from a dream — death, that sense of euphoria just before you wake up. It felt like… living.

He felt alive. That’s what it was. So free, so new.

Opening his eyes to see for the first time was a new experience in itself. But, he noticed that something was wrong then. It was so dark… pitch black. Abysmal.

Could he speak?

He decided to test out his theory.

“Hello?” Cliche, he knew, for a first word. No response. He tried again. “Am I alone?”

Should I know you? The voice brought his feet onto the firm ground below.

“Should I know you?” He echoed.

I guess… We may be the same, anyway. The same person?

“The same…” The figure murmured under his breath. “The same.” Malice then laced his tone. “No,” He snarled. “We’re not.”

He clasped his hands together — hands he never knew that he had. “We’re not the same.”

How so? Prompted the voice.

“They know you.” He replied. “They don’t know me. Not for anything. I’m too new.”

Do you want to be noticed? The voice was strangely empathetic.

He gave it some thought. Finally, he said, “Yes, I would like that.”

Suddenly, the darkness lifted. The first thing the figure looked at was his hands. They were nearly as pale as a ghost may be. He pulled a lock of hair in front of him. It was as black as ink.

He got some sudden rush of extreme emotion. Fear, exhilaration..? He wanted to know, but he couldn’t.

What else do I look like? He wanted to know that. At least that.

He lowered his hands as a new figure approached. He looked up to meet the other in the eye.

They were a new color. What were they?

Green. A beautiful emerald green. That’s what they were. But what color were his? He wanted to know more.

The hair color on the figure was much harder to tell. Was it black like his? Was it silver? The light shone so brightly onto it that his brain couldn’t figure it out.

You’re new. The figure tilted his head, and his hair fell about his shoulders, messy as if he had not slept in days. The crimson nightgown he wore gave away that he must’ve recently been sleeping, possibly for the first time in forever. Do you have a name?

He shook his head. “No.”

The man held out his hand, offering for the figure to take it. Do you want one?

Reluctantly, he nodded. “I would.”

The man lowered his hand. What is your choice then? His eyes were full of questions.

Again, the figure thought, harder this time. So many new thoughts, new words, new feelings came to his mind. A name came to him, somewhere, nearly hidden deep within some memories he never knew existed.

“Hyde,” He said. “Edward Hyde.”