My Grandfather's Murder
My name is Edwine; Edwine Hircine. I'm 17 years of age living in Paris, France. I'm well educated but my mother had a financial problem so I couldn't graduate along with my friends. A few months have passed and my mother dies from Leukemia. We did not have enough money for her treatment. So now, I've been looking for a job of my own in order for me to survive. Unfortunately, all the good jobs are now unavailable so now I work as a young butler for a rich business man.
The mansion had a huge lot and from the gate itself, you'd have to take a car to get to the main house since there was a long way to go and the garden was already like a forest, only a bit smaller. The flowers were beautiful and gracefully aligned by the pathways leading to the gazebo on the right; which had a shortcut leading to the main house. In this mansion lives the rich businessman named Marcus James. This man is already 60 years of age but he lives a healthy lifestyle so his age doesn't really show. I've been working for him for a few weeks now and I slowly get to know this old man.
The next day I decided to take a longer tour of the mansion so that I won't get lost in the near future working here. I asked Mr. Marcus for permission as he really did not have a job for me to do for that time being. "Master, may I take a tour around the mansion? It is for me to know my ways around so that I won't get lost when you have a job for me to do." I asked him and he replies, "Why of course. As long as you come back before supper because I'm having guests by that time." A small smile drew upon my face as I still kept a firm expression and I replied, "Thank you very much, Master. I will be back before supper." As he dismissed me from his office, I went my way. I started out going through the long halls of the mansion, inspecting every room although some were locked so I presumed that there was something private inside. Altogether there were three floors of the mansion; the basement, the first floor and the second floor. Of course the basement is where Mr. Marcus has all his luxurious cars parked. On the first floor, there was the living room on the west wing, the kitchen at the further back of the main hall, the ballroom on the east wing and the mini lounge by the entrance. On the second floor were his office on the west wing and the more private rooms on the east wing. There are bathrooms in each of the rooms as he described to me during my first day here but there was a separate bathroom; the guest bathroom, just a few steps from the main staircase which everyone could see from the main doors of the mansion as it was at the center. After my long tour, I came back before supper, as promised. Everything went well as I served all his guests with the help of his maids. Tomorrow, another new day shall start.
It has been a full year since I have worked for Mr. Marcus James. Today is the 21st of May my mother's birthday. I wanted to visit her grave to greet her a happy birthday but it seems that my master would be busy with his work and might need my help with some things so I can do that tomorrow or the next day, I knew my mother would understand as she knows how much I love her. I was walking through the halls of the east wing and had noticed that the door to one of the locked rooms was slightly opened as I saw a gap between the frame and the door itself. As I reached the unlocked room, I immediately closed it since I wanted to respect the privacy of the room. Although, at some point I got curious and felt a strong will to get inside the room and look around and so I did, I went inside, closed the door behind me and looked around. To my surprise, I saw pictures of my mother. The expressions of her face were always happy and then a deep thought struck me as I then asked myself, "How come there are pictures of my mother here ?" As I was about to walk out the room, I opened the door and there he was Mr. Marcus James, catching me red handed, lurking around a private room.
He had a curious look on his face but it was stern and he asks me, "What are you doing in here, Edwine? And how did you get in here in the first place when the door was supposedly locked?" He had raised an eyebrow, looking at me with his stern expression and it slightly scared me. I couldn't even look straight at him. I replied with a slightly scared expression on my face, "I-I'm sorry, Master. You see the door was slightly opened so at first, I closed it but my curiosity affected me greatly and so I'm in here." I had looked down as I felt ashamed. But right there and then I felt his hand on my shoulder and looking up at him, he suddenly gave me a soft smile. "I admire your honesty, young man. And for that, I will tell you something about this room you see here." He sat me down on the couch in front of the fireplace where the pictures of my mother were placed on its shelf. He took one of the framed pictures as he went on with the story. "This is my daughter her name is Elizabeth. She was a very happy child and I raised her well. She's well educated and was musically inclined. She told me that she wanted to be a famous violinist someday. So I enrolled her to a good violin class. I watched all her recitals." As he went on with the story, I had listened to him but I kept quiet. I didn't want him to know that I'm his grandson just yet I need the right time and place to do so. "All her dreams were coming true until " He paused slightly as I noticed his eyes welling up with tears. "Until this man came to her life and took her away from me and away from her dreams." He continued. "Is he talking about my father?" I thought to myself and continued to listen to him. "He took her away and she insists on marrying him but I wouldn't allow her. It was because of that man that she had started to rebel against me. It was because of that man that she ran away from home and still hasn't come back."
As he went on with more insults about my father of which I knew were false, a burst of anger and hatred crept through my veins but I held it up inside me as I didn't want to make a scene. I knew my father more than he did. My father was kind, loving, and caring. He would never abuse my mother and he never did until he passed away from a car accident 8 years ago. I had to keep my anger in. I don't want to get fired. I kept giving my master the ugly eye as he went on with the insults until I couldn't keep it in any longer. His insults were too painful to handle and so it went to a brawl. A hungry fist fight going on inside my mother's room began. Porcelain lamps shattered into pieces as my grandfather's back hits the study desk by the door of the bathroom. The brawl went on as I had shoved him through the bathroom door; the door, slamming down onto the marbled floor of the bathroom. From the impact of his fall, his head hits the side of the tub, blood started to trickle down the side of the tub as he began to lose consciousness. I took out my pocket knife as I wanted to end his life so badly. I stabbed him repeatedly until he was dead.
Moments after, I realized that I had a bloody knife in my right hand; I then panicked. I wanted to get rid of his body as quickly as I could. I carried his bloody, lifeless body over my shoulders and hurriedly went down the stairs. One of his maids had spotted me and she panicked. I panicked even more knowing that she will report this to the authorities. As I reached the back door that lead to the garden, I hurriedly walked out with his lifeless body. I looked for a shovel in the shed a few steps from the back door. I dug out a deep hole in a fast pace and buried his body there. I then put back all the soil I've dug, throwing the shovel aside. I went back inside the mansion and as I looked around I noticed the trails of blood on the floor. My head went blank before I heard sirens signaling me that the police was close to arriving. I felt my heartbeat pounding harder and I could even hear it pounding through my chest as if it wanted to run out. As I ran out of the backyard to hide I felt a deep guilt within me. Knowing that I killed my own grandfather destroyed my sense of being civilized and so I went crazy. Running out through the mini forest to hide myself from the police, I sat by this huge oak tree. I had hugged my knees, curling up into a fetal position as I cried and laughed from all the madness that had happened in one day. I cried knowing that I killed my own grandfather and that I've disappointed my mother by doing so and it was also her birthday I laughed because of my rage of hatred for my grandfather who had kept insulting my father when I knew that his insults were all false. I knew my father wasn't what he described. I could still hear the sirens from the police cars surrounding the main house and the main gates. As I've come to, I wanted to give the police my confession. The confession of how I was a part of my grandfather's murder.