•|chapter three: the secret meet [1882]

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Tears stuck to Paisley Rose's throat like a dagger stuck in a piece of meat

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Tears stuck to Paisley Rose's throat like a dagger stuck in a piece of meat.

But she did not dare to cry. No matter how hard did her heart pound against her ribs, or how sick she felt she did not dare to cry. It would have been a foolish task to do, for she was right in the den of the lion. And if Paisley was not wholly wrong, then she was standing on the lawn of her sister's murderer.

Nonetheless, those treacherous tears flowed out of her ebony shaded eyes and streamed down her swollen cheeks, like a boundless stream of melancholia. Felicity was nothing less than a child to Paisley. She had taken care of her for as long as she could remember. To find the very same Felicity's corpse lying at the doorstep, with her neck broken and those pretty green eyes glassy and gaping into oblivion was just too much to bear.

In the faint light of the moon, the pallidity of Paisley's face was jarringly evident. The underside of her eyes was red and swollen and so were her peach lips. The red freckles upon her cheekbones seemed to have lost colour and looked like little pink pinpricks. Her grey dress swayed with the winter winds, which also suppressed her sobs.

Paisley wiped away her tears with the back of her palm. She was grateful for the blanket of gloom that the night provided, letting her sob in peace without no one spying on her. Pulling the blue woollen shawl tightly around her shoulders, Paisley looked at the dark path ahead. She would have to bring justice to her sister.

Minutes bled away when at last the crunch of footsteps broke the silence of the deserted lawn. From the path in front of Paisley emerged the outline of a lanky man in dishevelled clothes and hair. He hurriedly made his way over to her, his countenance bearing a worried frown.

"Paisley!" He exclaimed, stopping in front of her. "Is it true? Do you really know--"

"Johansson, keep your voice down," Paisley raised her hand, cutting him off mid-sentence. "I do not want anyone to overhear us."


"You do not understand, Paisley," Johansson complained, the edges of his thin moustache quivering. His hazel eyes were bloodshot indicating his lack of sleep. "Mina has been missing for three days now and the officers are doing nothing at all. You would not believe how worried I am for her! I do not want anything to happen to her like what happened to Felicity." He said, his eyes welling up with tears.


Paisley gulped down the barrage of insults she was so close to pouring out on Johansson. He after all had no idea about what all was happening. Like all others in the town he knew that a freak accident had claimed Felicity's life. He did not know that she had been murdered and that the murder had been committed by his very own older brother.

"Wilhelmina is dead, Johansson." She said after a moment of silence, her face set like stone. "She has been killed, just like Felicity had been."

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