Chapter 24

I was totally lost, like my brain had shut off. I was driven by rage; revenge was the only thing giving me strength and keeping me cool. It shaped my feelings and let me think clearly, even when I should have been freaking out or dying. My first move was to ditch Geneva for good.

My country, which I loved when I was happy and had people who cared, now felt awful. I grabbed some cash and a few jewels that used to belong to my mom, and I bailed. And that’s when my wandering started, and it wasn’t stopping anytime soon.

I'd crossed a huge chunk of the planet and dealt with every crazy thing travelers face in deserts and rough places. Honestly, I barely remember how I survived - so many times I collapsed on the sand, wishing for it to be over. But revenge kept me going; I couldn't die and leave my enemy still around.

When I left Geneva, I was trying to figure out how to track my freakin’ enemy. But I was all over the place, wandering around the edge of town, clueless about what to do. As night fell, I found myself at the cemetery where William, Elizabeth, and my dad were buried.

I went in and headed toward their graves. Everything was quiet except for the leaves rustling in the wind; it was almost pitch black, and the scene would've been intense even if you didn't care.

It felt like the ghosts of the people who died were floating around, casting a shadow - you could feel it, but you couldn't see it - around me.

The deep sadness from this scene quickly turned to anger and despair. They were gone, and I was still here; their killer was still out there, and I had to keep living just to get revenge.

I knelt on the grass and kissed the earth, then, with trembling lips, I said, "By this sacred earth I kneel on, by the spirits nearby, by the endless grief I feel - I swear."

And by you, Night, and the spirits that rule over you, I’m going to hunt down the demon who caused all this, until he or I die fighting. I’m going to keep myself alive for this; I’m going to see the sun and walk on this earth again to get this revenge, otherwise I’d just disappear forever.

"And I call on you, spirits of the dead, and you, wandering messengers of vengeance, to help and guide me. Let that cursed monster drown in agony; let him feel the despair that’s eating me up now."

I started my promise with seriousness and a sense of awe that made me almost sure my murdered friends heard and approved of my dedication, but the furies took over as I finished, and rage blocked my voice. I heard a loud, evil laugh cut through the stillness of the night.

It echoed in my ears, the mountains bounced it back, and I felt like all of hell was surrounding me with mocking laughter. For a second, I almost lost it and ended it all, but then I realized my vow had been heard, and I was being kept alive for vengeance.

The laughter faded, and then a voice I knew - a voice I hated - whispered close to my ear, "I’m happy, you pathetic thing! You’ll live, and I’m satisfied."

I bolted towards where the sound came from, but the dude totally dodged me. Then, suddenly, the moon popped out - a huge circle - and lit up his creepy, messed-up shape as he bolted away, way faster than any human could. I chased after him, and that’s been my thing for months.

Following a tiny clue, I trailed the Rhone, but it was a dead end. The blue Mediterranean showed up, and, like, what a weird coincidence, I saw him sneak on a ship heading for the Black Sea. I hopped on the same ship, but he vanished - I have no idea how.

For months, I’d been all over Tartary and Russia, still on his trail. Sometimes, the locals, freaked out by this scary sight, would tell me where he’s been. Other times, he’s like, left a sign - maybe he was worried I’d give up and die if I lost him.

Snow piled on my head, and I saw his massive footprint on the snow. You, just starting out, who's never really known worry or pain, how could you possibly get what I've been through? Cold, hunger, exhaustion were the easy stuff. I was cursed, carrying my own personal hell with me.

But a good spirit was with me, guiding my steps, and when I was at my lowest, it would pull me out of impossible situations. Sometimes, when I was starving, a meal would just appear in the middle of nowhere, totally reviving me.

It was simple peasant food, but I’m sure it was left by the spirits I’d called on for help. And when I was dying of thirst, a tiny cloud would just pop up, drop a few drops of rain, and then disappear.

I followed the rivers when I could, but the dæmon usually steered clear - that’s where most people lived. I rarely saw anyone else, and mostly survived on whatever wild animals I came across. I had cash, and made friends with the villagers by handing it out.

Or, I’d bring food I’d hunted, keeping a little for myself, and giving the rest to whoever had given me fire and cooking gear. My life was seriously rough, and I only felt good when I was asleep. Oh, blessed sleep!

When I was feeling the most down, I’d finally get some rest, and my dreams would totally lift me up. The spirits watching over me gave me those moments - or, hours - of happiness so I could keep going on my journey. Without that break, I would’ve given up.

I got through the days hoping for night, because in my sleep, I’d see my friends, my wife, and my home country. I’d see my dad’s kind face, hear Elizabeth’s voice, and see Clerval looking healthy and young.

When I was exhausted from walking, I’d convince myself I was dreaming until night came, so I could finally be with my friends. I felt so much love for them! I’d hold onto their images, and sometimes they even popped into my mind while I was awake, making me think they were still alive.

At those moments, the need for revenge faded, and I chased after destroying the dæmon more like a chore I had to do, like an automatic thing, rather than a deep desire from my heart.

What his feelings were toward me, I couldn’t know. Sometimes, he’s leaving messages carved into trees or chipped into stone - stuff to guide me and totally rile me up. My reign isn’t over, one of these carvings said - You’re alive, and my power's total.

Follow me; I'm hunting for the everlasting ice in the north, where you’ll feel the misery of cold and frost, which I don’t even feel. Near here, if you’re not too slow, you’ll find a dead hare; eat and chill out.

"Come on, my enemy; we still gotta fight for our lives, but you’ve got a ton of hard and miserable hours ahead of you until that happens. Seriously, what a jerk! I vow revenge again; I’m dedicating you, miserable freak, to torture and death.

I’m not giving up this search until one of us dies; and then with what joy will I be with my Elizabeth and my friends who’ll be waiting for me, rewarding me for all this crazy work and this awful journey!

As I kept pushing north, the snow got thicker and the cold got intense - almost too much to handle. The villagers were stuck inside their homes, and only the toughest were brave enough to go out and grab the animals that starvation had driven out to look for food.

"The rivers were frozen, and I couldn't catch any fish; so I was cut off from my main source of food. My enemy was loving it - getting stronger as my work got harder. One inscription he left said: "Get ready! Your work’s just starting.

"Bundle up in fur and find food, because we’re about to go on a trip where your suffering will totally satisfy my endless hatred."

Those mocking words actually gave me a boost of confidence. I decided I wasn’t going to fail, and after a quick prayer, I kept going. I trekked across huge deserts until I could finally see the ocean - it was the very edge of the horizon. Wow, it was nothing like the bright blue seas back home!

Covered in ice, it was hard to tell it was even water, just super wild and rough. The Greeks were practically crying with joy when they first saw the Mediterranean from the hills of Asia, cheering because their hard work was finally done.

I didn’t cry, but I dropped to my knees and thanked the spirit that guided me, so grateful to have made it safely to the place where I planned to face and take on my rival, even after his jab.

Some weeks before this, I’d gotten a sled and dogs, and zipped across the snow like crazy. I don’t know if that fiend had the same setup, but I was seriously gaining on him. When I first saw the ocean, he was just a day ahead, and I was hoping to catch him before he hit the beach.

Feeling way more confident, I pushed on, and in two days, I reached a pretty rough village on the coast. I asked the locals about the fiend and got some solid info. Apparently, a huge monster had shown up the night before, packing a gun and a bunch of pistols.

He’d totally freaked out the people in a lone cottage, scared them silly. He’s grabbed all their winter food and loaded it onto a sled. To pull it, he’s snatched a whole pack of trained dogs and harnessed them up.

The villagers were stoked when he took off that night, heading across the sea in a direction that didn't lead anywhere. They figured he’s gotta be destroyed by the ice or frozen solid pretty soon. Hearing that news, I was hit with a wave of despair.

He’d gotten away, and I was facing this insane, never-ending journey across the icy ocean. It was freezing, and as someone from a warm, sunny place, I wasn’t gonna last long. But then I thought about him still being alive and winning, and my rage and need for revenge totally washed over me.

After a quick rest - felt like the spirits of the dead were hanging around, pushing me to work and get revenge - I got ready for my journey. I swapped my land-sled for one made for the rough ocean ice and stocked up on food. Then I left the shore.

I honestly can't say how much time had passed, but I’ve been through some seriously rough stuff. Only the feeling that I deserved it, deep down, kept me going. Huge, icy mountains blocked my way a lot, and I could always hear the ocean roaring, like it was trying to crush me.

But then the ice would freeze over and make the water safe again. Judging by how much food I’d eaten, I figured I’d been traveling for about three weeks. But hoping for so long, and then having that hope crash down, totally wrecked me. I was about to give up, honestly.

One time, after my poor animals finally dragged me up a huge ice slope, and one of them died from exhaustion, I looked out at everything and felt completely lost. Then, I spotted something dark on the horizon.

I squinted to see what it was and let out a crazy yell when I realized it was a sled - and I could make out a familiar shape inside. Oh my gosh! Hope just flooded back into me. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I quickly wiped them away so I wouldn't block my view of the creature.

But I was still blinded by the hot tears, and I just totally lost it and started crying out loud.

But there was no time to waste. I got the dogs moving, leaving their dead friend behind. I gave them a ton of food, and after a needed hour’s break - which felt like forever - I kept going.

I could still see the sledge, and I didn’t lose sight of it, except when some ice or rocks blocked it for a bit. I was definitely catching up, and when, after almost two days, I saw my enemy just a mile away, my heart leaped. But then, just as I thought I was about to get him, my hopes vanished.

I completely lost track of him - worse than ever before. I heard a ground sea - the roar of it getting louder and scarier as the water rolled under me. I pushed on, but it was useless.

The wind picked up, the sea raged, and then - like a massive earthquake - it split and cracked with a huge, overwhelming sound. It was over fast. In just a few minutes, a wild sea separated me from my enemy, and I was stuck on a shrinking piece of ice, basically signing my own death warrant.

Seriously, so many awful hours just dragged on. A bunch of my dogs died, and I was totally about to crash under the weight of everything when I saw your ship anchored and giving me a glimpse of hope, a chance at survival. I couldn't believe ships even came this far north - it was wild.

I quickly busted up some of my sled to make oars, and with a ton of effort, I could move my ice raft towards your ship. I’d decided that even if you were heading south, I'd still trust the ocean's whim instead of giving up. I was hoping you'd give me a boat so I could chase down my enemy.

But you were going north. You pulled me aboard when I was completely drained, and I would’ve died from all the hardship, a death I still freak out about, because I haven’t finished what I need to do. Ugh! When will my guiding spirit, leading me to this demon, let me get the rest I’m craving?

Or do I have to die, and he just keeps living? If I do, promise me, Walton, that he won’t get away. Promise you’ll hunt him down and get revenge by ending his life. And am I even allowed to ask you to take on this journey, to go through the stuff I've been through? Nah, I’m not that selfish.

But when I’m gone, if he shows up, if the forces of vengeance lead him to you, promise he won’t live - promise he won’t win over all my suffering and survive to add to his list of messed-up deeds.

He’s smooth-talking and convincing, and his words even had power over my heart once; but don’t trust him. His soul is as dark as he looks, full of deceit and seriously evil malice.

Don’t listen to him; call out the names of William, Justine, Clerval, Elizabeth, my dad, and the poor Victor, and plunge your sword into his heart. I’ll be nearby to make sure you hit the mark. Walton, continuing. August twenty-sixth, seventeen - .

You’re feeling seriously creeped out by this story, right? Like, my blood is totally freezing just thinking about it. Sometimes, he's hit with sudden pain and can't even keep going.

Other times, his voice cracks, but it's still sharp, as he struggles to get the words out - they're so full of sadness. His beautiful eyes would light up with anger, then sink down with sorrow, and then just... disappear into total misery.

Sometimes, he’s got it together, telling the most awful stuff in a calm voice, hiding any sign of being upset. Then, suddenly, it’s like a volcano erupting - his face just explodes with wild rage as he curses the person who messed with him.

His story is clear and feels totally real, but honestly, the letters from Felix and Safie, and seeing that monster from our ship... they convinced me way more than anything he said, no matter how serious he seemed. So, a monster actually exists? I can't believe it, but I'm also super impressed.

I tried to get him to tell me all the details about how he made his creature, but he wouldn’t budge on that. Are you crazy, my friend? he asked. Or where’s this ridiculous curiosity of yours taking you? You gonna make your own demon to unleash on the world? Chill out, seriously!

"Learn from my disasters, don’t add to your own. Frankenstein noticed I was taking notes on his story. He asked to see them, and then he edited and added to them himself, especially when it came to the conversations he had with his monster.

"Since you’ve kept my story," he said, "I don’t want a chopped-up version to be all that’s left for future generations."

It's been a whole week, and I'm still reeling from the craziest story I’ve ever heard. My thoughts and feelings have been totally consumed by my guest - this tale and his super elevated, chill vibes have just created such a connection.

I want to comfort him, but can I even advise someone so unbelievably wrecked, so completely without hope, to just keep living? Seriously, no! The only peace he’s gonna find is when he finally lets go and finds rest in death.

But he does have one thing going for him, a little escape born from being alone and lost in his head. He genuinely believes that when he dreams and talks to his friends, and finds comfort or gets fired up for revenge, it’s not just his imagination.

He thinks it’s actually them, visiting him from another world. This belief makes his daydreams so intense, they almost feel as real as anything else. We don’t just talk about his story and all the bad stuff that’s happened.

He’s got serious knowledge about everything - literature, you name it - and gets things so fast. He’s a seriously good talker; when he tells a sad story or tries to pull at your heartstrings, I’m literally crying. Can you imagine how amazing he must have been back in the good old days?

He's still so noble and impressive, even now, falling apart. He knows his own worth, you can tell, and feels the weight of his downfall.

"When I was younger," he said, "I thought I was meant for something huge. My feelings are intense, but I always had a sharp mind that seemed perfect for big accomplishments."

Believing in how awesome I was kept me going when others would have given up - I thought it was a total waste to let those talents that could help people just sit around feeling sad.

When I looked at what I’d done - basically creating a thinking, feeling being - I didn’t see myself as just another run-of-the-mill inventor. But that feeling, which powered me at the start, now just drags me down.

All my plans and dreams are pointless, and I’m like that angel who wanted to be all-powerful - stuck in a never-ending nightmare. My imagination was wild, but I was also really good at figuring things out and putting them into action.

Combining those two things, I came up with the idea and actually made a man. Even now, I can’t think about it without feeling something - my daydreams while it was still in progress.

I felt like I was walking on air, sometimes excited by what I could do, sometimes burning with the idea of what it would do. From the time I was little, I had huge hopes and big ambitions; but look at me now! Seriously, oh!

My friend, if you’d known me like I used to be, you wouldn’t recognize me like this, totally down. Sadness barely even touched me; I felt like I was on a path to something amazing, until I fell - and I’m never getting back up. "Do I have to lose this amazing person?

"I’ve been searching for a friend, someone who would get me and care about me. Look, out here in the middle of nowhere, I found that - but I’m afraid I’ve realized how much he means to me, only to lose him. I want to help him find a reason to live, but he’s totally pushing it away."

"Seriously, Walton," he said, "I appreciate you trying to help this mess of a guy, but when you bring up new connections and fresh feelings, do you really think anything can replace those I’m missing? Can anyone ever be like Clerval to me, or another Elizabeth?"

Even if you’re not super close to someone, childhood friends always have this thing over you - a hold on your mind that later friends just can’t get. They know what you were like as a kid, even if you’re different now, and they can figure out your intentions better.

A sibling just knows - unless they showed signs early on - they won’t suspect you of being fake. But other friends, no matter how much they care, might sometimes wonder. I had amazing friends, not just because I was used to them, but because they were genuinely great.

Wherever I am, I’m gonna hear Elizabeth’s comforting voice and Clerval’s conversations in my head. They're gone, and honestly, only one thing keeps me going in this kind of isolation.

"If I were working on something huge, something that would really help people, then yeah, I could keep living to finish it. But that’s not my path. I gotta hunt down and destroy the thing I created; then my time on earth will be up, and I can finally die. My dearest Sister, September 2d.

I’m writing to you, totally trapped and clueless about whether I’ll ever see England or my amazing friends again. I’m surrounded by mountains of ice, and there’s no way out - they’re threatening to crush my ship any minute.

The brave guys I talked into coming along are looking to me for help, but I’m totally tapped out. Our situation is seriously messed up, but I’m trying to stay strong and hopeful. It’s brutal to think that all these lives are in danger because of me. If we go down, it’s my crazy plans’ fault.

And what about you, Margaret? You won’t hear about what happened, and you’ll be worrying about me coming back. Years will go by, and you’ll have moments of total despair, but you’ll still be clinging to hope.

Oh, my dear sister, the thought of your heart breaking when you realize I’ll never return is way worse to me than my own death. But you’ve got a husband and adorable kids; you deserve to be happy. I hope heaven blesses you and makes you so! My poor guest is looking at me with so much compassion.

He’s trying to give me hope and talks like life is the greatest thing ever. He reminds me how other explorers have tried this sea and lived, and even against my will, he’s making me feel optimistic. Even the sailors are feeling his words; when he speaks, they don’t lose hope.

He’s boosting their energy, and as long as they hear his voice, they think these giant ice mountains are nothing that a person can overcome. But those feelings don’t last; every day we wait just makes them more scared, and I'm almost afraid of a mutiny caused by this despair. September fifth .

Something just happened that was so wild, I have to write it down. Even if these papers never reach you, I can’t help myself.

We’re still buried in ice, seriously risking getting squashed by this whole mess. It's freezing, and way too many of my friends have already died here in this wasteland. Frankenstein's been getting worse every day; there’s still a feverish look in his eyes, but he's totally drained.

Any sudden movement just knocks him out, makes him look lifeless. I wrote about my worries about a mutiny in my last letter. This morning, watching my friend - his face pale, eyes half-closed, limbs just hanging - I got jumped by six sailors wanting into the cabin.

They came in, and their leader talked to me. He said he and his crew were picked by the other guys to ask me for something I couldn't really say no to.

We’re stuck in ice and probably won’t get out, but they’re worried that if the ice breaks and we get a clear path, I’d be reckless enough to keep going and drag them into even more danger after they'd finally gotten through this.

So, they wanted me to promise, seriously, that if we got free, I’d head south, pronto. Their words shook me up. I hadn’t given up hope, and I hadn’t even thought about turning back if we got out. But could I, fairly or even realistically, deny them this?

I paused before I responded, when Frankenstein, who’d been quiet - and honestly, barely seemed awake - suddenly perked up. His eyes lit up, and his cheeks flushed with a burst of energy. He turned towards the men,

"What are you talking about? What do you want from your captain? Seriously, are you just giving up now? You called this a legendary trip, right? "And why legendary? Not because it was easy, like a chill beach somewhere, but because it was packed with danger and fear.

Every new thing we faced was a test, a chance to show how brave we were. Danger and death were everywhere, and we were supposed to face them down. That’s what made it legendary, that’s what made it worthwhile.

We were going to be heroes, our names remembered as belonging to brave people who risked everything for honor and for everyone else. And now, the second we imagine something scary, or, if you want, the first real, intense challenge to our courage, you’re bailing?

You’re happy to go home and be remembered as people who weren't tough enough to handle the cold and the danger? Come on! You didn’t even need all this training. You didn’t have to drag your captain into this to prove you’re scaredy-cats. Seriously, step up! Be men, be better than men.

Stick to your plan, be solid as a rock. This ice isn’t made of the same stuff as your hearts; it’s changing and can’t stop you if you say it won’t. Don’t go back to your families with the mark of shame on your faces.

"Go back as heroes who fought and won, who know what it’s like to turn their backs on the enemy."

He said it with a voice that totally matched the feelings he was expressing, and his eyes were full of big ideas and heroism. Seriously, could you blame these guys for being moved? They looked at each other and couldn’t even reply.

I spoke up; I told them to chill and think about what we’d talked about. I said I wouldn't push them further north if they really didn’t want to, but I hoped they’d find their courage again after thinking it over. They left, and I turned to my friend, but he was totally wiped out and barely alive.

I have no idea how this will end, but I’d rather die than go back defeated and without achieving my goals. Still, I’m worried that’s what’s gonna happen. These guys, without any ideas of glory or honor, can’t keep putting up with this stuff. September seventh. It’s done.

I’m going back if we don’t get wiped out. My hopes are totally crushed by fear and indecision. I’m coming back clueless and disappointed. It takes way more patience than I have to deal with this unfairness. September twelfth. It's over. I’m heading back to England.

I’ve lost my hopes for making a difference and for glory; I’ve lost my friend. But I’ll try to tell you all about these awful things, my dear sister. And while I’m sailing towards England and towards you, I won’t give up hope.

September ninth, the ice started moving, and we heard these huge, thunderous roars way off. The islands were splitting and cracking everywhere. We were in serious danger, but there was nothing we could do. I was mostly worried about my guest, who was getting sicker and sicker - totally stuck in bed.

The ice cracked behind us and got pushed north. A breeze came from the west, and by the eleventh, the way south was totally clear. When the sailors saw that and realized they could go home, they just erupted in this massive, loud cheer.

Frankenstein, who was dozing, woke up and asked what was going on. They’re cheering, I said, because they’re going back to England soon. So, you’re really going back? Yeah, I guess. I can’t fight their demands. I can’t drag them into danger, and I have to go. Okay, do what you gotta do.

"But I’m not going. You can give up your plan, but mine is from Heaven, and I can’t back down. I’m weak, but I’m sure the spirits helping me get revenge will give me the strength I need. He tried to get out of bed, but it was too much for him. He fell back and passed out.

It took forever for him to come around, and I honestly thought he was gone. Finally, he opened his eyes. He was breathing hard and couldn’t talk. The surgeon gave him something to calm him down and told us to leave him alone. In the meantime, he told me my friend didn’t have much time left.

The sentence was out, and all I could do was feel bummed and just wait it out. I sat by his bed, watching him. His eyes were closed, and I thought he was asleep. But then he called out, his voice weak, and told me to come closer. Seriously, he said, the strength I was counting on is gone.

"I feel like I’m gonna die soon, and he, my enemy, might still be around. "Don’t think, Walton, that at the very end I still feel that crazy, burning hate and need for revenge I used to talk about. But I’m still right to want my enemy gone."

"These last few days, I’ve been going over everything I’ve done. And honestly, I don’t think I messed up. I was so hyped up, I created a smart creature, and I felt it was my job to make sure he was happy and doing okay. That was my responsibility, but there was something even more important."

"My duties to people like me - to humans - were more important because they involved a lot more happiness or pain. So, I said no, and I was right to say no, about making a friend for the first one. "He was unbelievably evil and selfish. He destroyed my friends."

"He ruined lives of beings who were full of amazing feelings, joy, and wisdom. And I have no idea where his need for revenge will stop. "He’s miserable himself, and he’s making everyone else miserable, too. He needs to die. It was my job to end it, but I failed."

"I asked you to finish my work when I was being selfish and acting badly. And now, I’m asking again, but this time it’s because I’m thinking clearly and doing the right thing."

"I can’t ask you to ditch your country and friends to do this, though. And now that you’re heading back to England, you probably won't run into him. But I'm leaving it to you to figure out what you think is best. My head's all over the place because I'm dying soon."

I don't even want to ask you to do something I think is right, because I could still be totally off base. "The thought of him causing trouble is seriously messing with me. But honestly, this moment, when I’m expecting to finally be free, is the only happy one I’ve had in years."

I keep seeing the ghosts of the people I loved, and I’m rushing to go join them. Goodbye, Walton! Find happiness in chill vibes and stay away from chasing ambition, even if it seems harmless, like becoming famous for science and discoveries. But why am I even saying this?

I’m a mess too, but maybe someone else will have better luck." His voice faded as he talked, and then he just stopped, totally wiped out. About half an hour later, he tried to speak again, but couldn't."

He squeezed my hand weakly, and his eyes closed for good, while a soft smile disappeared from his face. Margaret, what can I even say about this incredible spirit being gone so soon? How can I make you understand how sad I am? Anything I’d say would be lame and not nearly enough.

I’m crying; my brain feels clouded over with disappointment. But I’m heading back to England, and maybe I’ll find some peace there. I’m getting interrupted. What’s that sound? It’s midnight; the wind’s blowing, and the crew on deck barely move.

There’s another sound, like a voice, but rougher; it’s coming from the cabin where Frankenstein’s body still is. I gotta go check it out. Good night, sis.

Seriously, what just went down was insane! I'm still reeling from it. I'm not even sure I have the energy to describe it, but this final, crazy thing just has to be in the story, you know? I went into the cabin where my friend, who was totally awesome but also had a rough go of it, was lying.

Hanging over him was this... thing. I can't even put it into words - huge, but also super weird and messed up looking. His face was hidden by a curtain of long, tangled hair, but one giant hand was out there, the color and texture of a mummy's.

When he heard me, he stopped screaming and freaking out and bolted towards the window. I’m telling you, I've never seen anything so terrifying. His face was just... ugh, so gross and horrifying. I closed my eyes and tried to remember what I was supposed to do with this monster. I told him to hold up.

He stopped, staring at me like I was crazy, and then turned back to look at his creator’s dead body. He totally forgot I was even there. Every move and expression was fueled by some wild, uncontrollable rage. He’s my victim too! he yelled. By killing him, I finished my crimes.

"My whole messed-up existence is finally over! Oh, Frankenstein! You were so generous and cared about everyone! What’s the point of me asking you to forgive me now? I totally ruined you by destroying everything you loved. But... he’s gone, he can’t even hear me."

His voice sounded choked, and my first thoughts - telling me I had to honor my dying friend’s wish and take down his enemy - totally stalled. A mix of curiosity and just plain feeling bad washed over me. I moved closer to this huge, imposing figure.

I couldn't bring myself to look him in the face again; he was seriously creepy and otherworldly. I tried to speak, but the words just vanished. The monster kept rambling, throwing out wild, jumbled-up self-blames. Finally, I found the nerve to talk to him during a lull in his outburst.

"Your regret is kinda pointless now," I said. "If you’d listened to your gut and felt bad before you went full-on revenge, Frankenstein would still be here." "You think I wasn’t already wrecked by pain and regret?" the dæmon snapped.

"He," he pointed to the body, "he didn’t feel anything compared to the agony I felt while I was actually doing it. A selfish rush pushed me onward, even though my heart was drowning in remorse. You think Clerval’s cries were music to my ears?"

"My heart was made to feel love and sympathy, and when misery twisted it into vice and hatred, the change ripped through me with a pain you couldn't even fathom."

I went back to Switzerland, totally crushed after Clerval died. My heart was broken, and I felt so much for Frankenstein. But then it turned to horror, and I hated myself.

When I realized he, the one who created me and gave me so much pain, actually hoped for happiness - while piling misery and despair onto me, and getting his own thrills from things I couldn’t even have - that’s when envy and rage just exploded inside me. I had a burning need for revenge.

I remembered my threat and decided to follow through. I knew I was signing myself up for some serious pain, but I was a puppet, not in control, of an urge I hated but couldn’t ignore. But then she died! No, that wasn't even the worst part.

I'd shut down all feelings, crushed all the pain, just to drown in my despair. Evil became my only comfort. Driven that far, I had no choice but to become the monster I’d chosen. And now it's done; that’s my last victim! At first, I felt bad for what he was going through.

But then I remembered how good Frankenstein was with words, how persuasive he could be. And when I looked at my friend’s lifeless body, I got super angry. Seriously? I said. You’re here to cry over the mess you made? You light a building on fire and then sit around feeling bad when it burns down?

"You’d call that a good look? Hypocrite! If the person you’re mourning was still alive, you’d be hurting them again, making them your target. You’re not feeling pity; you’re just upset because the person you messed with is out of your reach."

"Seriously, it’s not like that," the being cut in. "I get that it looks like my actions are all about some big message, though. But I’m not trying to get anyone to feel bad for me. I don’t want sympathy, ever."

When I first started out, I wanted to share the joy and love I felt - my whole being was just buzzing with good vibes. But now, virtue feels like a ghost, and happiness and affection? Total despair. Why would I even look for sympathy? I’m good suffering on my own as long as it keeps going.

When I kick the bucket, I’m fine with everyone hating my memory. I used to dream about being virtuous, famous, and just having a good time. I foolishly hoped I’d find people who’d look past my looks and love me for what I could be. I was fueled by big ideas of honor and dedication. But now?

Crime has dragged me lower than any animal. There’s nothing - no guilt, no bad stuff, no evil, no misery - that even comes close to what I’m dealing with.

"When I think about everything I’ve done wrong, I can’t believe it’s even me, the same person who used to have amazing, beautiful visions of goodness. But it is. The fallen angel turns into a nasty devil. But even that enemy of God and humanity had friends in his misery. I’m all alone."

"You, who call Frankenstein your friend, seem to know about my crimes and his bad luck. But he couldn’t possibly tell you everything - the hours and months of misery I went through, stuck in useless feelings. I crushed his hopes, yeah, but I didn’t even get what I wanted."

My desires were always burning, always wanting more. I still wanted love and connection, but I was always rejected. Seriously, wasn’t that messed up? Am I the only one who’s done something wrong, when everyone else has sinned against me?

Why don’t you hate Felix, who kicked his friend out with such disrespect? Why don’t you despise the farmer who tried to kill the one who saved his kid? Nah, those guys are seen as totally good and pure! But me? I’m the miserable one, the abandoned one, a total failure.

Even now, just thinking about it makes my blood boil. "Okay, yeah, I’m a monster. I’ve murdered people - sweet, innocent people. I’ve choked them in their sleep and crushed the throats of those who never hurt me or anyone else."

I’m the reason my creator, the best example of everything good and lovable in humanity, is miserable. I chased him all the way to his total destruction. There he lies, pale and lifeless. You hate me, but you have no idea how much I hate myself.

"I look at the hands that did it; I think about the heart that came up with the idea and just wish for the moment when those hands won’t meet my eyes, when that imagination won’t haunt me anymore."

"Don’t worry, I won’t cause any more trouble. My work is almost done. Your death - or anyone’s - won’t finish what I need to do. But mine will. Don’t think I’ll hesitate to do this. I’m ditching your ship on the ice raft that brought me here. I’ll head to the farthest north."

I’ll build a funeral pyre and burn this awful body to ashes. That way, no creep will use my remains to make another like me. I’m dying. I won’t feel these horrible pains anymore, or be haunted by feelings I can’t satisfy. The guy who made me? He’s gone.

And when I’m gone too, we’ll both be forgotten fast. I won’t see the sun or stars, or feel the wind on my face. Light, feeling, and everything will fade away. And that’s where I’m gonna find peace.

"Years ago, when I first saw the world - when I felt the warm summer sun and heard the leaves rustling and the birds singing - I would have cried at the thought of dying. Now, it's the only thing that makes me feel okay. I'm covered in guilt and regret. Where else can I find rest but in death?"

"Later!" he yelled, ditching me. "Seriously, you’ve got the last humans I’m ever gonna see. Later, Frankenstein! If you were still around and still wanted to get even, it would be way more satisfying while I’m still kicking. But you didn’t want that."

"You wanted me gone so I wouldn't cause more trouble. And if, somehow, you were still thinking and feeling, you wouldn't want to hurt me worse than I'm hurting now. Even though you were cursed, my pain was still worse. The guilt is gonna eat at me forever until death finally shuts it down."

"But soon," he shouted, with a sad, serious energy, "I’m gonna die, and this feeling will be gone. Soon, this burning misery will be over. I’m gonna climb my funeral pyre like a boss and be stoked about the agony of the flames."

"The light from the fire will fade; the winds will scatter my ashes into the ocean. My spirit will finally rest, or if it’s still thinking, it won’t be thinking like this. Later. He jumped from the cabin window, landing on the ice raft right next to the ship.

The waves quickly carried him away, swallowed by the darkness and distance.