No Way To Escape | Novel

CHAPTER 44: THE HOMICIDE

The Night of Eleventh of September, 1924.

An ominous night what it seemed. The sky was darker than its usual tone. The wind was calm and cold. But the temperature within the Warwick's mansion was much lower. The dark spirits were fortifying themselves with what was going to happen. Once the sacrifice was done, they would all be free and they would all dwell together on the terra, emancipated.

Tonight was the night of apotheosis.

Inside the Warwick's, Momma Warwick was knitting some pieces of wool together, sitting on her arm-chair. Her face though seemed wan but she was calm and peaceful with no disturbances around her apart from the faint sounds upstairs where Laura and Ruth were playing hide-and-seek together. Faint sounds of giggling were echoing all over the house.

Upstairs, Laura seemed utterly gleeful, away from all her problems and vexation. Her face seemed younger than usual because of the mirthful time she was spending with her little daughter. Though their chuckling and laughing was faint downstairs, but up there in the second floor, they were coruscating. Mostly it was of little Ruth, who was enjoying the game with her mother.

And then there was a strip of flashes before my eyes. Fast, but informatory flashes, notifying me of the background of the happenings alongwith the past associated with that, giving me an insight over the psychological status of the family. First, it was the baby.

Ruth didn't exactly know what was going on with her parents but the point she was certain about was that there was something bad. Something terribly bad. Bad enough to knock the bond among their family.

Mommy seemed quite delirious lately and Daddy... Well, he didn't seem to be in him. For little Ruth it was like -- He is my Daddy but he's not. Daddy was so cheerful and playful earlier. But now he was just a man in the house who was lost too much within himself.

But there was also another thing. Her room. It was now seeming darker than usual. The upper corners of her cubical room, as observed from her bed, seemed much, much darker. Some nights she could hear some whispers -- faintly audible. She could hear numerous men talking to themselves and sometimes she could hear the screams of some people, all in unison. Earlier, she used to wake up gasping, but as soon as she did that, the voices would disappear. Now, she had somewhat accustomed herself to them and had become less paranoid. Her inner soul would urge her to speak to her parents but she didn't want them to be bothered. She didn't want them to be worried about some petty fantasy of hers.

And now I could see the most reticent character of the plot -- Momma Warwick. She had been silent all the time since her son's loss but being a typical introvert, there was a lot going on in her mind since then. She had been worried all the time and had been praying for the success in fortunes of Edward in silence and in private. She knew that if Edward saw her in a worried condition, he may not be able to hold himself up. All his life he had looked upon his mother who had raised him up alone, barring him from all the social evils and helping him to get him to the professional etiquette he had been in for years now. With the heart of a mother, she had been quite brave till then, hiding her anguish within herself. But now, it was the ultimate night the tension had been building on for. Edward Warwick was now standing outside the front door, with his heart beating fast.

He raised his palms to have a look at them. They were trembling. He was sweating rapidly and his shirt had been drenched with all his sudor. I could experience what was going on in his mind. 'Don't do it fast', Stephen had said to him. He had been repeating those words again and again over his mouth, slowly.

Memories were flowing at the back of his mind -- of his mother, his wife and his lovely daughter. But on the other side, his mind was being tempted by his love and devotion towards the Devil. Slowly, he started moving forward. His legs were not firm onto the ground. His lips were shaking. He moved his right hand to his back pocket and pulled out a colt pistol.