“Cursed creator! Cursed creator!”
I could hardly think through my rage.
“Why did I ever have to live? Why didn’t I end my life the moment you gave it to me?”
But despair had not completely taken over yet.
I was furious.
I wanted revenge.
I could have burned the cottage to the ground and watched the people inside suffer. I wanted to hear them scream. I wanted them to feel the same pain they had caused me.
That night, I left my hiding place and wandered deep into the woods.
For the first time, I no longer cared whether anyone discovered me.
I screamed into the darkness like a wild animal.
I ran through the trees with all my strength, destroying anything that stood in my way. The cold stars seemed to mock me. The bare branches moved above my head, while birds occasionally sang through the silence.
Everything around me was peaceful.
Everyone except me seemed to have a place in the world.
I felt as if hell itself had taken root inside my heart.
I wanted to tear down the trees.
I wanted to destroy everything around me.
Then I wanted to sit among the ruins and enjoy what I had done.
But rage could not sustain me forever.
Eventually, exhaustion overcame me.
I collapsed onto the wet grass, completely drained.
“No one in this entire world would pity me,” I thought.
“And why should I show kindness to anyone?”
From that moment on, I declared war against humanity.
But more than anyone else, I hated the man who had created me.
“You gave me life,” I thought, “and then abandoned me to suffer.”
The sun rose.
I heard people nearby and realized I could not return to my shelter during the day.
So I hid beneath thick bushes and spent the morning thinking about everything that had happened.
The warmth of the sunlight and the clean morning air gradually calmed me.
As my anger faded, I began to see that I had made a terrible mistake.
I had acted too quickly.
The old De Lacey had listened to me. He had believed that I was sincere. Perhaps I could have won him over completely if I had not allowed his children to see me so suddenly.
“I should have spoken to the old man first,” I told myself.
“I should have let him become familiar with me. Then, little by little, he could have introduced me to the others.”
Perhaps I had not ruined everything.
After thinking about it for a long time, I decided to return to the cottage.
I would find the old man again.
I would explain everything.
Perhaps he could still help me.
Those thoughts finally brought me some peace.
That afternoon, I fell into a deep sleep beneath the trees.
But my mind would not let me rest.
I dreamed again and again of what had happened.
I saw Agatha and Safie running away in terror.
I saw Felix pulling me away from his father.
I woke exhausted.
It was already night.
I left my hiding place and searched for food.
After I had eaten, I followed the familiar path back toward the cottage.
Everything seemed quiet.
I slipped into my shelter and waited for the family to wake.
Morning came.
The sun climbed higher.
But no one appeared.
I began to tremble.
Something was wrong.
The cottage remained dark and silent.
I listened carefully, but heard no movement inside.
The uncertainty became unbearable.
Then two villagers passed by.
They stopped near the cottage and began talking excitedly.
I could not understand them because they spoke the local language, not the French I had learned from my protectors.
Soon Felix appeared with another man.
I was confused.
I knew Felix had not left the cottage that morning.
I listened carefully.
The other man asked, “Are you sure you want to leave? You will have to pay three months of rent, and you will lose everything you have grown in the garden.”
“I have no choice,” Felix replied.
“You must understand that I am not trying to take advantage of you. Take a few days to think about it.”
“There is nothing to think about,” Felix said bitterly. “We can never live here again.”
His voice shook.
“My father’s life is in danger because of what happened. My wife and my sister are terrified and will never recover from it.”
“Please,” he continued. “Do not argue with me anymore. Take back your house. I just want to get my family away from this place.”
Felix and the man went inside the cottage.
They stayed there only a few minutes.
Then they left.
I never saw Felix, Agatha, Safie, or the old De Lacey again.
I remained in my shelter for the rest of the day.
I felt completely empty.
The people who had given my life meaning were gone.
They had taken away the only connection I had to humanity.
For the first time, hatred completely filled my heart.
I no longer tried to resist it.
I began thinking about death and destruction.
But whenever I remembered the De Laceys, my anger briefly disappeared.
I remembered the old man’s gentle voice.
I remembered Agatha’s kindness.
I remembered Safie’s beautiful face.
Tears filled my eyes.
Then I remembered that they had abandoned me.
The anger returned even stronger.
I could not hurt them because they were gone.
So I turned my hatred toward their home.
As darkness fell, I gathered dry branches, straw, and anything else that would burn.
I spread the material around the cottage.
I destroyed the garden they had worked so hard to cultivate.
Then I waited.
I wanted the moon to disappear before I acted.
Later that night, a powerful wind rose from the forest.
The clouds broke apart and raced across the sky.
The storm seemed to awaken something violent inside me.
I picked up a burning branch and began walking around the cottage like a madman.
I kept my eyes fixed on the western sky.
The moon slowly disappeared below the horizon.
That was my signal.
I raised the burning branch.
Then I screamed and threw it onto the pile of dry grass and branches.
The fire spread instantly.
The wind fed the flames until the entire cottage was surrounded by fire.
Flames climbed the walls and swallowed everything the family had once called home.
I stood there until I knew there was no chance of saving the house.
Then I turned and disappeared into the forest.
But now I had another problem.
Where could I go?
The entire world seemed hostile to me.
Everywhere I went, people would hate and fear me.
Then I thought of you.
Your journal had taught me that you were my creator.
You were the one person in the world who could truly be held responsible for my existence.
“Who else should I go to?” I thought.
“You gave me life. You must answer for what you have done to me.”
From Safie, I had learned enough geography to understand where different countries were located.
Your papers had told me that Geneva was your home.
So I decided to go there.
I would find you.
But I had no idea how to make the journey.
I knew I had to travel southwest, but I had no map detailed enough to show me every town along the way.
I could not ask anyone for directions.
Still, I refused to give up.
You were the only person from whom I could demand help.
I hated you more than anyone.
“You heartless creator,” I thought.
“You gave me feelings, desires, and intelligence, then threw me into a world where everyone would despise me.”
Yet you were also the only person who owed me anything.
I would find you.
I would force you to face what you had created.
The journey was long and miserable.
It was late autumn when I finally left the area where I had lived for so long.
I traveled mostly at night because I was terrified of meeting another human being.
The world around me slowly died with the season.
The sun gave almost no warmth.
Rain and snow fell around me.
Rivers froze solid.
The ground became hard, cold, and empty.
I had nowhere to sleep.
I often cursed the man who had created me.
Whatever gentleness I had once possessed was disappearing.
Only bitterness remained.
And the closer I came to Geneva, the stronger my desire for revenge became.
Snow covered the land.
The water froze.
But I kept moving.
I had a map, and occasionally I met something that helped me find my direction, but I often lost my way.
My misery followed me everywhere.
Every difficulty fed my anger.
Then, when I finally reached the border of Switzerland, something happened that made my hatred even stronger.
By then, spring had begun.
Normally, I traveled only at night.
But one morning, I found myself walking through a thick forest, and I decided to continue after sunrise.
It was one of the first beautiful days of spring.
The sunlight was warm.
The air was soft.
For a moment, I felt something I had almost forgotten.
Happiness.
I was surprised by it.
For a little while, I forgot that I was alone.
I forgot how I looked.
I even allowed myself to enjoy the beauty around me.
Tears filled my eyes.
I looked toward the sun with gratitude.
“Perhaps I can still feel joy,” I thought.
I followed the winding path through the forest until I reached its edge.
A deep, fast-moving river flowed beside the trees.
Fresh green branches stretched over the water.
I stopped, unsure which direction to take.
Then I heard voices.
I quickly hid beneath a cypress tree.
A young girl suddenly came running toward me.
She was laughing as if she were playing with someone.
She ran along the dangerous edge of the river.
Then her foot slipped.
She fell into the water.
Without thinking, I rushed out.
The current was extremely strong, but I fought against it and managed to reach her.
I pulled her from the river and carried her to the shore.
She was unconscious.
I tried desperately to revive her.
Then a man appeared.
He was probably the person she had been playing with.
The moment he saw me holding the girl, he rushed toward us.
He tore her from my arms and carried her away.
I followed him, not even knowing why.
Then he stopped.
He raised the gun he was carrying.
He fired.
Pain exploded through my shoulder.
I fell to the ground.
The man ran into the forest with the girl.
I lay there in disbelief.
“So this is my reward for saving her?”
I had just risked my life to rescue a human being.
And this was how humanity repaid me.
Kindness disappeared from my heart.
Pain and rage took its place.
“I hate you all!” I screamed.
“I swear I will never forgive humanity.”
Then the pain became too great.
My vision faded.
I lost consciousness.
For several weeks, I remained in the forest.
I was badly wounded.
The bullet had entered my shoulder, and I had no way of knowing whether it was still inside me.
I certainly had no way to remove it.
But the physical pain was not the worst part.
I could not stop thinking about the injustice of what had happened.
I had done something good.
I had saved a life.
And I had been rewarded with a gunshot.
Every day, I promised myself that I would take revenge.
Not a small revenge.
A terrible one.
I wanted humanity to suffer for everything it had done to me.
Eventually, my wound healed enough for me to continue.
But spring no longer brought me happiness.
The warm sunlight only reminded me of what I could never have.
Beautiful things seemed to mock my loneliness.
Two months later, I finally reached the outskirts of Geneva.
It was evening.
I found a hidden place among the surrounding fields and stopped to think about how I would find you.
I was exhausted and starving.
Even the beautiful evening air could not comfort me.
The mountains of the Jura looked magnificent in the distance, but I could not enjoy them.
Eventually, I fell into a light sleep.
Then I heard someone approaching.
A small child came running into my hiding place.
He was young and carefree.
As I watched him, an idea entered my mind.
Perhaps this child was too young to have learned to hate creatures like me.
Perhaps he would not be afraid of my appearance.
“If I take him with me,” I thought, “he could become my friend.”
For the first time, I imagined that I might not have to be completely alone.
When the boy passed near me, I grabbed him.
He immediately saw my face.
His hands flew over his eyes.
He screamed.
“Let me go!”
“Don’t be afraid,” I said. “I won’t hurt you. Just listen to me.”
He fought desperately.
“You monster!”
He screamed.
“You ugly creature! You’re going to eat me!”
“You’re an ogre! Let me go, or I’ll tell my father!”
“You will never see your father again,” I said angrily.
“You must come with me.”
“Monster! Let me go!”
Then he shouted something that froze me.
“My father is a government official. His name is Frankenstein. He’ll punish you. You won’t dare keep me!”
“Frankenstein?”
I stared at him.
“You are Frankenstein’s son?”
Suddenly, all my hatred returned.
“So you belong to my enemy.”
I remembered the man who had created me.
The man who had abandoned me.
The man who had condemned me to this life.
“You will be my first victim.”
The boy continued struggling and screaming.
He called me every horrible name he could think of.
Each word drove me deeper into despair.
I grabbed his throat.
Then everything went silent.
The boy fell lifeless at my feet.
I stared at him.
For the first time, I felt a terrible sense of triumph.
“I can destroy things too,” I said.
“My enemy is not beyond my reach.”
“This death will hurt him.”
“And I will find many other ways to make him suffer.”
Then I noticed something shining on the boy’s chest.
I picked it up.
It was a small portrait of a beautiful woman.
Despite the hatred burning inside me, I could not look away.
Her dark eyes were gentle.
Her lips were beautiful.
For a few moments, I stared at her with admiration.
Then bitterness returned.
I remembered that I could never have the kind of love and happiness that beautiful human beings gave to one another.
“If she ever saw me,” I thought, “her beautiful expression would change into fear and disgust.”
That thought drove me almost mad.
I could hardly understand why I did not rush into the nearest town and destroy everything I could find.
Instead, I left the place where I had killed the child.
I searched for somewhere more hidden and eventually found a barn that seemed empty.
But someone was sleeping inside.
It was a young woman lying on a pile of straw.
She was not as beautiful as the woman in the portrait, but she was young, healthy, and pleasant-looking.
I stared at her.
“Here is another person who knows happiness,” I whispered.
“Everyone has someone except me.”
I leaned closer.
“Wake up, beautiful one,” I murmured.
“Your lover is near.”
“I would gladly give my life for just one loving look from you.”
“My beloved, wake up.”
She moved.
A wave of fear went through me.
What if she opened her eyes?
What if she saw me?
She would scream.
She would accuse me of murder.
She would tell everyone what I had done.
The thought awakened the hatred inside me again.
“No,” I thought.
“She will suffer instead.”
Then I remembered what Felix had taught Safie about the laws of human society.
I had learned from humans how to cause harm.
I placed the portrait inside one of the folds of her clothing.
“If I am blamed for this crime,” I thought, “let them believe she was responsible.”
She moved again.
I ran.
For several days, I remained near the area where these terrible events had taken place.
Sometimes I wanted to find you immediately.
At other times, I wanted to disappear from the world forever.
Eventually, I continued toward the mountains.
I wandered through their vast valleys and hidden paths, consumed by a single burning desire.
To find you.
To make you answer for my life.
At last, I found you.
“You cannot leave me now,” I said.
“We cannot part until you agree to what I ask.”
“I am alone and miserable. Humanity will never accept me.”
“But there is one person who might.”
“One person who would understand me.”
“One person who would not reject me simply because of my appearance.”
“She must be like me.”
“She must share my deformity.”
“She must be my companion.”
“You created me.”
“Now you must create another being like me.”