Chapter VI: An unfortunate incident (part I)
Looking distraught and slightly delusional, Rosie hammered against the front door panic- stricken, calling out for James, who immediately rushed down the stairs.
„I killed him, I killed him." she cried out in-between sobs.
James placed his hand on her mouth, instructing her to keep it down. He ushered her up the stairs and into the attic, locking the door once again.
„Where?" he asked.
„In his house."
Like a madwomen she stumbled across the room with new crying fits taking over her body.
To ease her nerves James brought up a half-empty bottle of gin to her mouth.
„Drink this, all of it."he demanded.
„Did you get the treaty?" she nodded and pulled it from under her skirt, where she had secured it to her undergarment.
James untied it and scanned it before he locked it safely inside his solid trunk, only he had the key for.
„Did you dispose of the body?" he turned his attention back to the unsettled women, who rocked her body back and forth as she was sitting on a chair.
She shook her head.
James kneeled down to her feet assuring her that he would take care of it.
„Did anybody follow you?" he asked.
„I don't know."
„Now think!" his tone turned harsher.
„No I don't think so."
„Very well. I will take care of it." he repeated, gathering his coat and hat. He pulled the brim deep down into his face to disguise himself. Then he grabbed an old grain sack big enough to tug a body in.
„Get yourself cleaned up, and rinse that blood from your dress. And for gods sake try not to make a stir.!" he ordered just before he unlocked the door.
„What are you going to do?"
„Taking care of it."
Rosie had lost sense of time as she laid in the tub. She had scrubbed the dried blood off her skin with such brutality, she never even noticed the bruises she inflicted on herself, leaving deep scratch marks all over her skin. She stayed in the cold, crimson colored water, starring at a particular spot on the wall, reliving the events that had taken place and coming to terms with what she had done.
She wished she had never even come to London. If she hadn't come to London in the first place she wouldn't have had met James and she wouldn't have joined his league of the damned, for damned she now was.
She contemplated running away. It had been a good chance for James hadn't returned yet and Miss Bow and Brace had already gone to their rooms. She considered her options thoroughly with the sudden desire to travel back home to her father and brothers and sisters, whom she now realized, she deeply missed. But where would she find shelter and was she safe now that she had become a murderess? What if James hadn't taken care of it and her traces could be followed? Surely James would unleash his anger on her if she'd run away and perhaps kill her? She now knew he was capable of it and perhaps even more…
Maybe it was true, what she overheard Lorna tell Brace in secret. She heard people spoke badly of him, spreading rumors of him, killing gruesomely for pleasure and then desecrating the corpses. They said he ate human flesh.
Rosie smiled at those accounts that day, as did Brace, not believing a single word, of course taking into account that they were spoken by Lorna, who was known for her exaggerations.
She had been so naive but now she had fallen into his debt by making the very simple task of stealing turn into murder. And James has had to clean up after her. A debt that can't easily be payed off.
Her recollected memories made Rosie feel nauseous and light-headed. But perhaps it was just the gin kicking in.
Rosie felt the exhaustion in her bones as she climbed out of the tub. She draped herself in cloths and treaded along the corridor into her room. She hung the soaked dress, she had rinsed earlier, on a hook near the fire to let it dry, though she dreaded seeing it and decided to never wear it again.
She crawled into bed, being physically and emotionally strung out but her mind would still wander no matter how much gin she poured down her throat.
After hours of tossing and turning she heard the familiar squeaking of the front door and heavy footsteps ascend the stairs. She knew then James had finally come home.
She waited a few moments pondering over whether or not to speak to him.
But her fear and curiosity had finally gotten the better of her so she slid out of bed, tied the bath cloth around her body again and tiptoed to his room. Hesitatingly she knocked on the door.
„In." he said in a low but audible voice.
She entered the room uneasily. James sat by the fire pulling the dead lawyers blood drained clothing out of the grain sack, he had brought back, and throwing them into the fire piece by piece. He paused at what he was doing to look at the girl with neutral expression. She looked older, he thought. Her lips and eyes swollen and flushed from the salty tears that had been streaming down her face earlier and as a result irritated her skin. Her hair fell sleekly from her shoulders. Her once vibrant green eyes gazed back at him in a dead stare.
For the first time since he had left Zilpha, he felt a sting to his heart, thinking about what he had done to Rosie… . What he had made her become.
„All has been taken care of." he assured her. She nodded in response.
He patted on the floor for her to sit beside him. Slowly she walked over, tightened the cloth around her body and sat down next to him.
He breathed in her fresh scent, now that she was so close to him but even that wouldn't bring back the pureness that once inhered her. It was as if she had lost a piece of soul to him and they both consented an unspoken agreement that night to keep their morbid actions buried inside for the rest of their lives.
They sat silently, watching the crackling fire, mesmerized as it ate away on the goods that it was being fed, as James continued to throw Thoyts belongings into the flames.