Bloody Red Doll

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are the property of Yana Toboso and Square Enix, Co. Ltd. I don't own them; I just examine all their possibilities.

Part 7

The carriage arrived as expected the day after my last exam. I made a point to avoid speaking to anyone that day; simply passing through the hallways with my effects. The driver opened the door and I climbed in, wanting this whole thing over with. I spent the journey trying to ready myself for being back in that blasted manor. My absolute hatred for the entire place and all the pampered rats crawling around inside was palpable. I could just taste my seething for them all, but I took a moment to remember why I was going to this charade.

I was retuning here for her and only her. I told myself repeatedly that this was going to be good for me; my itching hand reminded me of why. I went into this with more of an open mind, or rather a mind like a steel door that needed significant force to hold open. The attempt would be draining and exhausting. A part of me almost wished I'd brought a bottle of wine along for the journey, perhaps being face to face with these bastards would have been more tolerable in an induced state of happiness. As tempting as it was, I realized the driver would have noticed something and reported it to Matthew. Spying probably earned them a few crowns as a bonus if it wasn't in their job expectations to begin with.

At last the sloping fields and soaring roofs of the Sutcliff manor came into view, my skin crawled in marked response. The carriage pulled up to the house and I saw David waiting out front, likely ready to take my bags in. We passed a few words in greeting as he took my bags and escorted me up the path. I learned before even entering the house that most of the family was already there; it was nice to get the armor up before having to face them. We entered and asked what refreshment I cared for. Brandy I said, a little something to take the edge off sounded splendid; just get me some bread and cheese, I didn't have much of an appetite.

Matthew found me straightaway, he actually greeted me warmly and asked about the bandage with seemingly grave concern. I got a little too aggressive with an apple, sliced myself all the way down. I got a stern response of "that is the price of carelessness" and he advised me to have it looked after by the family doctor. I was happy to retreat to my room and the bottle of brandy David left for me. I took a few sips, enough to make my insides loosen slightly but I made sure to save the rest for an opportune time.

My presence was expected at tea and I was immediately bombarded the moment I walked into the room. Elijah embraced me, a rather unwelcome gesture. Jacob gave me some faux-polite words. Most of the children were there; now older, mostly students like I was, but I hardly considered them peers. There were a lot of questions about school, a lot of questions about lessons and sports and if I had my eye on any pretty ladies. I was proud of myself to have given so many charming and witty answers; fake answers, yet charming and witty nonetheless.

The funeral was in two days and Matthew humbly recited the roster of nobles who RSVP'd to his solemn announcement.

"It warms the heart to have so many people watching for this family in such a time of crisis," Matthew said.

I knew that the roster of titles as a captive audience warmed his heart more, but I drank my tea with a polite smile.

Conversation invariably turned to my injured hand. I cooked up this rather detailed story about this one large apple and my rather growling stomach and how I need to better heed my strength. I did add the part about the elderly doctor and his little dark-skinned helper awaiting the more colorful comments.

"Our brother has a splendid example of how neither a man's skin color nor his nationality have any hampering on his character," Matthew said rather grandly. "I have always told these ignorant fools how dark men are capable of being civilized and gotten laughed at."

"Fine idiots they are, Grell himself is witness to a black-skinned medical apprentice," Jacob chimed in.

"I've always said the slave trade is barbaric, a most un-Christian practice…" Matthew added but I stopped paying attention. I smelled a promotion idea I would have no part of. Oh the sweet familiarity of home.

There was barely any talk of mother, which I was mildly gladdened by. Most of it was on the funeral arrangements, a few brief anecdotes were passed but that was it. I kept my mouth shut through most of this and no one seemed to notice. Her coffin was put in the small chapel that morning, lying in repose if you will.

"Whether you choose to visit her or not, Grell, that is your own personal decision," Matthew said.

I would have to think on that one. I spent a quiet night sleeping on it, purposefully avoiding any drink other than a pint at dinner. The nightmares came one after the other between bouts of looking up at the ceiling and listening to the usual shifting of the house. Her screaming out in anguish, a dried corpse surrounded in red roses, the sound of her voice crying out my name. I finally declared myself awake at the first glow of daylight, my throat dry as a bone and head pounding.

I put on a smart outfit before walking to the chapel; somehow I felt like she would be able to see it. I had no thought to what I would see, I was only walking down there like any other time. The smell of flowers and candles immediately struck my nose walking in the room.

There she was lying in an oak coffin in one of her favorite blue ball gowns; grayish-blonde hair impeccably braided, the thick coating of powder was a little more than she usually wore but not entirely off-putting. The undertaker did a magnificent job preserving her beauty in death. An array of lilies and roses surrounded her against the white lining; a halo of flowers for such a lady.

"You look radiant, mum," I said, taking a few steps closer to the coffin. "You truly are the primadonna of this party, my lady."

I raised a hand to the coffin, only now realizing the difficulty I had bringing it up from its curled position against my leg. My hand shook so much coming up, but at last rested on the wood; my fingers venturing out to touch that still-soft hair. I looked down and saw it was the injured hand, for a moment I forgot about that but the sight of that bandage just bore a hole through me. I kept it in its position, a reminder perhaps that I still stood there. I was standing there now and looking at her a living man; I should have been in a coffin next to her.

The thought barely carried any weight, it merely floated along in the breeze. My whole being suddenly felt lighter, a moment of complete clarity settling over me. I looked back down at her, and at my bandaged hand; a chuckle escaped me. This was all so bloody absurd, all of it. The morose scenery, this lifeless dummy in the coffin dressed in her sentimental finery, I was merely the tragic prince and this was my cue for the wrenching soliloquy. There was no audience here waiting for my words, the fourth wall was just that; silent and empty, lifeless, looking more and more like the inside of my mind.

Did I just not give a damn? My senses returned to me with the twinge of momentary horror at my thought process. I looked back down at her and stared at her peaceful face, ever frozen in pure contentment when her last months were so hellish. A nice façade; she truly took that to an art form. My head pounded and my stomach settled, but all I felt was this odd calm. I continued to stare at her; blankly, examining those fair features and all the pretty flowers.

I didn't care a shred about any of this and it was one of the most exhilarating realizations I had ever had. She was dead, here lies the Dowager Baroness, and I couldn't be bloody moved. She was part of the scenery now; another pretty accoutrement. That's all she ever was and that's all I ever was to her. Completely pathetic. It helped to look on a departed loved one as a thing; a pretty porcelain doll in her finest dress accessorized with roses and lilies. She looked upon me the same way; little baby doll, nice for dressing in lovely little clothes, show him off to all your friends, watch as they turn to puddles before your feet.

Perhaps they would dress me the same way when I died. What outfit would they put me in, how would they do my hair. I was completely caught up in the thought. Would there be anything left to dress up should I die a most messy death? How much would a most skilled undertaker be able to put pretty again. Oh how I would love to attend my own funeral; it would be a fine show indeed…but why was I imagining Matthew making the arrangements and all my brothers making the requisite appearances? I was so much younger than them all; the thought certainly intrigued me. After all I did almost die, perhaps I could do it on a grander scale next time. Perhaps my thoughts were a bit too bleak, perhaps I would have the privilege of watching all of them knock off one by one and laugh from the pews each time.

I managed to pry my thoughts away and remind myself I was looking at my mother's body. Perhaps a change of scenery was in order, but not without a proper parting to the old bitch. I leaned in the coffin, smelling oil and wax mixed with the roses. I planted a light kiss on her cold lips and rose, turning around and walking from the chapel. I had my peace, there was nothing more I needed here.

I passed Elijah in the hallway shortly after, for some reason I did tell him I visited her.

"Did you have your peace, Grell," he asked with the tenderest of looks.

"I did, brother, indeed I did," I replied.

More well-wishers were piling into the manor by the evening, most traveling from London and some from further areas to pay their respects. Many were other nobles, many more were Matthew and Jacob's business associates. There was an especially grand dinner later that night, though for a while I felt I was more on display than the goose. I was an absolute musical virtuoso, but my riding skills were legendary, or so Matthew said after several glasses of wine.

"Grell is graduating grammar school in a year and a half," Matthew said. "Oh he will have a fine future. He will be a man of success, I can assure you."

I tried not to roll my eyes. It was too difficult to take anyone seriously at the moment, so I was barely bothered by this. Talk invariably moved to some other point of discussion I made a point to give no attention.

I found it interesting that the socializing and carousing went into the evening. Matthew and Jacob stayed in the drawing room with an assortment of associates; the spirits were flowing, the conversations were becoming less and less stodgy, occasionally a song or two broke out. Lady Sutcliff put the children to bed without a word, Elijah and his brood were in their rooms by dinner. I decided to stay about for the festivities, moreso for the better quality liquor. I would only have a couple glasses, I said to myself; I was drinking around my family and not my mates. The more the goofy laughs sounded from Matthew and the bawdier Jacob's jokes became, the more drinks I had, but still watched myself more than usual.

The more relaxed I got the more I seemed to blend into the conversation. Everything coming from my mouth was pure bollocks, but they actually seemed to recognize my presence here. Perhaps I spoke their dodgy language, or maybe I somehow looked like an adult. Even somewhat tipsy, I knew better than to take any one of these bastards at face value.

The thought did cross my mind briefly of why I never saw this kind of revelry before. Perhaps this was my first experience of this as a young man and not a child, so it wasn't kept from me. Oskar's services could have been a more somber affair than mother's, though perhaps mother's presence kept affairs a bit quieter. She was hardly the uptight type, mother enjoyed her share of parties though her style was more pristine. Managing a perpetually drunken husband too might have imposed some rules on his successor, or one might be reluctant to throw parties with his mother around. The thought did cross my mind that they were toasting to her demise, though I would rather not too many thoughts passed through. I couldn't say I was disappointed with this change.

By midnight Matthew went to bed. Jacob stayed up and caroused a little more, though we both agreed to retire at the same time. There was a funeral in the morning after all. By the morning hours I somewhat welcomed my heavy head, it gave me some form of distraction to go through the usual preparation.

The service was a bit of a grander affair than Oskar's, after all they actually had a box of bones to fawn over this time. Mother was moved from the dressing room out on stage; the roses and lilies around her replaced with a grand laurel of roses. The church was filled with people mother likely never met at all, Matthew got his money's worth in tears. I sat in my pew surrounded on all sides by my brothers and their families. The poor surviving children of such a wonderful woman. Everyone was strong and shed no tears, though I was sure strength had nothing to do with it.

And there was the lady herself lying out on display at the front of the church; my mother, my protector, my preener, my influence for more wrong than right. I wanted to think I was her favorite, but then that might have counted for even less. How much did she ever truly value her children? My only perspective was my own, perhaps all my surviving brothers couldn't wait to finally plant the bitch in the ground for their own reasons…not the least including me perhaps if they cared that much.

And there I sat merely an observer to this whole melodrama, or was it a comedy? I observed the tender look on Lady Sutcliff's face, the way Matthews sons sat up straight like they were planted there with stakes. Perhaps they were little wooden dolls only flesh and bone. Did they bleed sawdust? I thought of a few ways to test this theory. Elijah wasn't the ringleader for this service; another minister took on that role, but my brother was certainly standing in the front in his colorful costume with his crying mask on.

I leaned forward and pursed my praying hands to my lips, looking as if I was deep in contemplation when I was actually trying to hold my smile. I only needed to look at mother all nicely dressed up and on display before the first chuckles rose up in my throat. A grand bloody party to the end, there just needed to be livelier music than this sleepy organ tone, but then she knew how to work an occasion. I recalled how she sat in the pew at father's funeral bawling her eyes out. My hands fully covered the bottom half of my face and I allowed a few more laughs to sneak out into my palms. I felt my niece Sarah's little hand pat my shoulder and her little squeak of "It's all right, Uncle Grell." I was now chortling into my hands, my laughs sounding like rough sobs.

I managed to calm, prying my hands from my face and putting on a somber expression whilst wiping my eyes with my handkerchief. I nodded at her and thanked her, her innocent blue eyes staring at me in sympathy. My attention went right back to the performance just as Sarah's father took the stage.

"My calling to God has given one advantage: I can formally introduce my dearest mother to the Almighty," Elijah proclaimed.

His hands looked like he was conducting a crescendo. I buried my face once again and just let loose the laughs, making them sound like sobs. Sarah took my arm in hers. I briefly looked up to see Jacob give me a small glance and two of Matthew's boys downright glare at me; Robert just stared ahead and ignored me. I managed to calm myself a bit, my smile tuning to one of somber thanks toward Sarah as I stood straight in my seat and tried to join this masquerade.

They put the cover on her coffin at the close of the service, I was actually glad to no longer have to look at her. I bade my farewells; I had my proper peace as it was, I didn't need this being dragged out longer than it had to. She was planted right next to father. As much as it was tempting to think on the two fighting for eternity, it was their bodies that were interred together after all. Father was likely in his own section of Hell, I didn't bother guessing where mother was now.

"Annelise, Baroness Sutcliff, born Annelise Dresdner. Born: 25 of September, 1723, Died: 13 December, 1775. Aged 53 years. Wife and lady of Thomas, Baron Sutcliff, mother of Matthew, Baron Sutcliff, and mother of Jacob, Olivia, David, Elijah, Oskar, and Grell. Devoted wife, mother, and lady."

I recognized the names of my two siblings who died as infants: Olivia, the girl she truly wanted, and David, saved from his fate of being another throwaway by dying soon after birth. A wise move on his part perhaps. I tried not to laugh at that last sentence on her stone, it was just too pathetic and false.

I actually did hang about for the reception, played the role of the bright, handsome young man looking towards a prosperous future. A few glasses of wine helped me get better into character. I barely concentrated on the conversations after a while, I just seemed to know the right things to say. After a few hours the stodgy reception slowly transformed into a more relaxed affair. Matthew had a right feast served up and the whole gathering started to feel more like a party than a funeral and certainly not in a manner celebrating someone's life. I remembered the grand party he threw after father's death, now the final bag dropped.

The party continued after all dishes were cleared, slowly moving into the parlor and around some hired musicians and ample bottles of various spirits. David and some members of the staff came around with trays of small treats and made sure every glass remained filled. It was mostly conversation, but the occasional song and random game of Simile or Blind Man's Bluff popped up. This was not a riotous affair mind you, hardly as relaxed as a night at the pub with my mates. This was how stuffy nobles and wealthy businessmen had fun, though the music and the flowing wine were elements that kept me present.

Like the night before, the drunker everyone got and the earlier the more stuffy attendees went to bed (the master of the house included), the less polite the stragglers became and the bawdier the talk turned. There was a rather healthy population of younger women in the parlor: daughters, nieces, cousins and the like of Matthew and Jacob's associates. I was a little amused their respective male handlers said nothing of them being there or left them alone for whatever debauchery might ensue. A few of them were even still in the room thinking nothing of their women guzzling wine and attaching themselves to other men, though it wouldn't surprise me if Jacob hired a few of them to be there.

By midnight I looked over to see Jacob in his shirtsleeves, an arm each around two fillies who were twittering like sparrows over some joke he made. His wig was still on, but it would come off soon with the rest of his clothes probably. The thought was more than a little unappealing; I was not picturing my brother as much as I was picturing a dog mating for I imagined little difference between the two. Jacob redirected a few loitering ladies to my direction with a few words about how talented and athletic I was. They approached me with blushing cheeks and light touches on the shoulder, I naturally basked in the attention and put on the charm.

They were gorgeous women; ample bosoms, perfect milky skin, soft hair I ran my fingers through. One blonde beauty in particular latched right onto my arm and leaned on my shoulder. I think I had heard her referred to as Molly, or was that Mary. I lost interest when we kissed and my hands were over her curves. I had never touched a woman in such a way before; her curves, the softness of her body, the delicateness of her skin all fascinated me.

After a few minutes I desired to explore some of her other aspects and she was practically begging me to oblige. We slipped from the parlor and into a large linen closet in the hallway. Her discarded dress and the plush rug provided ample padding for my bare elbows and knees. I had no bloody clue as to what I was doing. I did think of how I enjoyed Reg's stamina and the way he touched me the last time we made love. I figured the more she was moaning and breathing heavily the more I was going in the right direction. I did get full view of those beautiful womanly assets; her body was nigh perfect. I so enjoyed running my hands over those soft curves, feeling that smooth skin. There was no thick hair, no bony edges, a completely unique experience.

We finished and I obliged her for some kissing before we both rose and hastily dressed. She kissed me again with a passing gasp of "You were wonderful, Lord Grell," before returning to the party in barely a bat of an eye. I didn't care to return to the party at that moment; I was quite relaxed and didn't feel like posturing. I went to a smaller drawing room down the hall, lighting a small lamp, and finding a bottle of port and a small, crystal glass. I reclined in a plush chair, sipping my drink, enveloped in darkness and quiet.

I wasn't really drunk, but the small amount of drink-induced elation I had was starting to wear off. It wasn't necessarily a dark mood as it was a quiet one; quiet I dreaded. I had already made my peace with why I was here, though for some reason I looked down at my bandaged hand. Our doctor wanted to remove the stitches tomorrow, saying it appeared mostly healed. It was that easy wasn't it? I finished off my glass with a more enthusiastic sip, then poured another one in the dim light.

The door suddenly opened, giving me a bit of a start. I could barely make out the figure coming in, but his voice revealed himself before the flickering flame did.

"She was that good, wasn't she?" Jacob said with a dirty chuckle.

He took a few more steps forward, his shirt untucked and hanging over his skinny frame, cravat missing, close-cropped red hair fully exposed in all its mussed glory. It was rather obvious where he just came from. He took his own glass from the side and walked toward me, alas my wish for him to walk the other way and get the hell out of here did not come true. I took a sip and watched him plant his arse into the chair across from me, sliding the bottle of port over to him and pouring himself a glass. I was tempted to ask how he knew I didn't poison it, but that might not end well.

"To mother," he said, raising his glass.

I raised my glass in response and knocked it back. He chuckled a little and took a polite sip of his, then stared at me with this bemused smile. I looked him right in the eyes with an unamused expression.

"I know, this may seem a bit awkward," Jacob said. "I believe this is the first time we've really spoken to each other face-to-face. Perhaps I have always just seen you as a small child; it never dawned on me that small child would grow up to be such an intelligent, talented man."

"Is it sinking in now?" I asked, I could only maintain polite airs for so long.

He chuckled again and nodded.

"I owe you a sincere apology Grell, all of us do," Jacob said.

I was a little taken aback by this, though there was a punchline in here somewhere.

"I am going to be brutally honest, brother, you have meant nothing to any of us," he said. At least he was willing to have out with it. "We've been men living our lives, doing our work, raising our families; or rather the other idiots have, I know better. All along we have had a brother we didn't recognize, seeing him for too long as a child that needed to be minded and not our own extended flesh and blood. And all the while mother has made you her little toy and I do not even care to think on what you went through with father. I do feel responsible for not taking heed there was a small child under his mad watch."

I reached over and snatched the bottle from his side of the coffee table, pouring myself another glass in silence; half an eye on the glass and the other half on Jacob.

"We all were looking out for ourselves," he said.

"You do not speak for Oskar, I can assure you," I said before taking a sip.

I savored that uncomfortable little smirk.

"And we have been remiss," Jacob said. "Now Oskar is gone, mother is gone, and I imagine you are feeling as if you have no one else. Your friends at school, maybe, but I know the schemes of boys in the gentry. You are probably aware of this too, you're a wily lad. You are surrounded by a bunch of scheming boys and even more scheming brothers who you figure do not care hide nor hair of you."

"That sums it up exactly," I said plainly.

"Well I cannot blame you and that is our fault," he said. "Matthew told me you acted out a little with mother's maid last summer. And as for your little injury, well I was your age once, I know sometimes young men can be too bold and be a little foolhardy in some matters."

I flexed my hand a little as an unconscious response. Oh if he only knew.

"Grell, you have never had a father-figure and your older brothers have completely been lacking in our duties," he said. "Matthew and I have spoken quite a bit and I will have a little chat with Elijah when I can. Grell, we are going to take a bit more of an interest in you and your future."

I rolled my eyes and took another sip.

"Oh rest assured, this does not mean increased adult scrutiny or any further discipline," he said. "You are more than capable of watching over your own affairs, though you might hear from us a little more often; simple things, a few letters, a few simple inquiries, but most of all we want to mentor you."

"With all due respect, brother, if this is a business pitch, have out with it," I said.

Jacob gave a dirty chuckle.

"I assume Matthew told you of the little talk we had over the summer," Jacob said. "Would I be interested in seeing your talents at work in our family's company? Most certainly, but Matthew and I know better than to try to force you into anything. You are too strong-willed; you're much like both mother and father in those respects, though we want you to use that strength for any constructive purpose. I am sure you are thinking of your future. Granted Matthew was the only one of us with a guaranteed inheritance, though he wanted to carve his own success over his title. I have helped him and made a generous profit for myself. Elijah was called to God and Oskar, God rest his soul, was called to King and Country. You will have your own calling, Grell. Should you need any guidance in any venture, your brothers will certainly be here for you."

I gazed at him hard, letting the silence linger.

"You certainly have a way with words," I said. "Though perhaps I can be swayed. Fine then, I will take you on your word. I sincerely appreciate this talk."

Jacob rose and smiled at me.

"The pleasure was mine, brother," he said, walking toward the door.

I retired to my own bed soon after. The next morning, the family doctor removed my stitches with absolute care though I somewhat enjoyed the small sting of each one being pulled out. It left a rather angry-looking scar, though I was rather proud of it. It was easily concealed, though made visible to anyone on a look.

The atmosphere around the house was actually a bit more pleasant than I expected. Matthew was actually speaking to me, I wondered if that had anything to do with my conversation with Jacob. Robert and I resumed our card games and board games, he might have considered me somewhat of a peer if I was not mistaken. I just had the pleasure of knowing how loudly his little dog could yowl when being torn apart. I actually felt a kind of calm, not the desperate, hollow calm from the summer; a true peace perhaps.

Christmas fell a few days after the funeral. The morning and afternoon was the usual opening of expensively boring presents, gathering around the table for the large goose whose slaughter I could only speculate on, and the usual insipid carols around the usual insipid fire. The mulled wine made this a little more bearable to the point where Matthew chuckled a little, "You don't want to start too early, save the real merriment for later."

He was right, mother's funeral festivities paled in comparison to Christmas Night. This night no one had to maintain any airs; the children and sensible adults were tucked safe in their beds and the rest plus about 50 other guests drank up the holiday cheer. Jacob was in his usual merriment, even Matthew was getting nicely pissed; chortling and rubbing his own fat belly like Father Christmas. I got into the liquor pretty well, though still was not entirely comfortable with getting completely soused in front of my brothers. Odds were I'd black out and they'd sell my body to some high-paying medical school, I wouldn't put it past them. I kept the drinking to a dull roar and tried not to get any more than a little giddy.

I was chatting up a few different ladies, I rather enjoyed the attention and a little exercise sounded good; especially know that I knew what I was doing. I narrowed my sights onto this one buxom beauty with strawberry-blonde hair. Her brother actually patted me on the back before chasing some tail of his own. She was a smart one too; rather well versed in philosophy, an avid reader of Shakespeare. I recited a few sonnets to her with the kiss of her hand and she went all woozy.

I was just about to ask her if she wanted to hear my play my violin when this slobbery, middle-aged bounder put hands around her waist and told her she was "my ray of sunshine." He practically licked her cheek before a voice off to the side called "Danny" and he was scampering off. I smoothed things over by showing concern for her after that incident, she seemed to appreciate my concern enough to go into a side bedroom with me.

She was a wild one, she was; bucking like a mare. It only encouraged me further; oh what lovely hair she had, what ample breasts. I was sure she sung in a choir with all the lovely high notes that came out of her. We were both sweating when we dressed, parting with a kiss and promising to join again another time to read some verse. I returned to the party and snagged another one soon after; a brown haired girl who wasn't as talkative, but wanted to be taken in the closet from behind. I could work with this position; she did little but it gave me more room to try a few things. She seemed happy when we parted.

I returned to the party a little while longer, thinking of Reg for some reason. The soft women were nice, but I could use something rough from such a handsome, violent man. By 1 in the morning most of the partiers were filtering to their guest rooms or crashing in whatever comfortable space was available; couches, chairs, sections of floor. I walked to my own room, feeling rather relaxed and ready for a long night's sleep.

The sound of snoring caught my attention from a couch in a small office a few doors from my room. The door was open and I peaked my head in to see who was making the racket. It was the drunken fool I'd heard called Danny earlier, the same man who pawed over my chosen filly earlier in the evening. He was sprawled out on a couch, his mouth was gaping open, drool and the most wretched sounds pouring out. His wig was falling off, revealing a bald head underneath; by his tousled clothes I took him for some wealth. He completely disgusted me, if only he would choke to death on his own saliva.

I don't know how the thought came to me; I was in a rather daring mood at the time and simply fascinated by the sheer wretchedness. How easy could this be, he was already passed out from drink. A pillow would do it; like the one I took from the other side of the couch. No one was around, I looked all around the room and down the hallway; it was just me and Danny right here.

I pressed the pillow gently against his face, he barely stirred. Both my hands clasped it and pressed harder. He flailed a little, making me press down even harder. His arms spasmed; like the body of a freshly caught fish. His breath wasn't caught in the air but in the pillow I held over his face. My heart raced, I grinned wide, he attempted a yell that was muffled by the thick cotton and thousands of feathers. The sides of the pillow in my hands were now against the sides of his face; like a pair of legs with the head committing the crime. This was better than lovemaking.

His flailing slowed rapidly, his body growing limper by the second. At last he stopped moving; oh how my trousers felt so tight in this moment. I pressed down for several more seconds to make sure there was no other movement. I then lifted the pillow; his eyes were still closed, mouth gaping, face white as a cloud. I put two fingers to the side of his neck; no blood flowed through his veins. This man was dead…by my hands and for no nobler reason than my own amusement. This was a hell-worthy offense…as was sodomy, as was fornication, what was one more? This one was much more satisfying.

I moved his head forward and put the pillow underneath, making sure to use the side I didn't use for the act. I slipped out of the room alone into the dark corridor and went into my room. I was tempted to please myself, but was a bit too tired. I wanted to think on the moment like a pleasant memory, but sleep soon took me. I woke to the first rays of sun and quite a few voices outside my room. For the first time I felt a twinge of fear; this capital offense was a little more obvious than the ones I had done with Reg. No one was pounding on my door though, that was a good start.

I put some clothes on and stepped out the door, seeing a small group gathering around the hallway by the same office. Someone must have found his body earlier. I believe it truly dawned on me what I had done the night before, the thought shot through my mind: I killed a man. I murdered someone. The feeling of guilt lasted for a second, the lingering cries of my conscience were drowned out by some modicum of pride at such a bold move. Maybe I would get away with this completely.

Matthew came out of the room half-dressed.

"What happened," I said walking forward.

Matthew shook his head and approached me, putting a hand on my shoulder and leaning into my ear.

"A man died here last night," he said.

I wore my best shocked expression.

"What?" I said, slipping into Lady Macbeth for a moment. "In this house? Right next to my room?"

"Bloody dreadful," Matthew said nodding. "His name was Daniel Benton, he was a solicitor I had on retainer. He was rather inebriated last night, Dr. Wallace thinks he just fell asleep and stopped breathing. He wasn't a very sturdy fellow either, probably drank too much."

"Dear God," I said with a sigh. "Such a bloody shame. Did he have a family?"

"A wife, two grown children I believe," Matthew said. "A fine man of business with a magnificent sense of humor. Such a shame."

"My condolences," I said. "I passed him for a moment in the party and that was it. So dreadful."

So bloody dreadful, such a loss to the world.