Chapter Forty-Eight – Twisted
"Well, at least we ain't dead."
Bill and Toby were back in their cell, the former brooding, the latter surprisingly cheerful all things considered.
"Not yet," growled Bill, looking up from the grimy floor to glower at his accomplice. "We couldn't easily been sentenced ter the drop, you realize."
"Wot, fer robbin' a few 'ouses?"
"Robbin' 'ouses, stealin' wallets…you can get 'ung fer anythin' these days."
"Well then, we're lucky ain't we? Eighteen months an' we'll be free!"
"Do you realize 'ow long eighteen months is?"
Toby shook his head. He'd never been properly educated; he could barely count to eighteen! It was always Fagin who did the arithmetic and this suited Toby fine (he had no idea how short Fagin sold him).
"As I thought," Bill muttered. He himself wasn't entirely sure but, needless to say, it was a long time. And the hard labour, he knew, would test him and Toby to the limit. Bill wasn't a man for being cooped up and submitting to authority. His status and his reputation meant nothing here. He wondered, his heart sinking, if he would be able to survive.
He, Bill Sykes, was afraid.
--
The first few months, Bill had assumed, would be the worst. And they were certainly dreadful. The hunger from lack of sufficient food, the lack of alcohol in which to drown his sorrows, the tedious and painful regimes of hard labour…
Not only that, but he'd managed to get into scraps with the other prisoners on a number of occasions and was soundly punished for it. The pain and humiliation of these instances tested him to the limit, and he soon became certain he was going mad.
Toby fared no better; he'd fallen violently ill on one occasion but that hadn't spared him the day's work; far from it.
Yes, the first few months were bad. But it was the last few months that were the worst. The anticipation of freedom, knowing it was so close at hand, and yet you still had to wait. Bill couldn't wait to be free again, to get back to Bethnal Green, to Nancy…
She'd managed to bribe the jailer to get in to see the pair of them shortly after their trial. Her brief stay had meant to cheer Bill up, if only slightly, and to reassure her that, despite his current situation, he was still relatively alright and in a sound mind. Unfortunately these brief visits that continued over the eighteen months only served to make Bill feel worse after Nancy had been escorted out of the cell and led away; she was still free and he wasn't with her…
Did he still love her? The question had burned in his mind ever since the first time he'd struck her, but it kept resurfacing with alarming frequency in the few times he was left alone with his thoughts, or in his nightmares.
He told himself he loved her; but if he did, then why did he treat her like that? Why did he beat her? He'd tried to come up with the answer, tried to justify his actions…it all seemed so complicated, so difficult to comprehend. He was sure Nancy did something to deserve the treatment he gave her…so why did he feel so guilty after every blow he struck?
Bill Sykes detested the feeling of guilt, the feeling he'd done something he shouldn't have. He did what he had to do to survive, to stay alive. If his life was threatened…if one of the gang peached and it got traced to him, or if he was ever caught again…there would be consequences, he knew. And they would be brutal.
--
The day of Bill and Toby's freedom dawned cold and drizzling with rain, in stark contrast to Bill and Toby's elation. The jailers had seemed reluctant to let them walk free, but they were that way with everyone.
The pair of them parted ways, Toby heading back to Petticoat Lane with a jovial wave and a wink; Bill returning with all haste to Bethnal Green.
His reunion with Nancy was a tearful one, at least on her part. As soon as he walked in the door she'd run over and flung her arms around him, crying tears of relief and joy, laughing at the same time with sheer elation. Even Bulls-Eye barked happily at their feet.
Bill himself was ecstatic to be back, and yet there was something, within himself, that felt out of place. Memories of his stint in Newgate were still fresh in his mind and he was unable to shake them off; the hunger, the pain, the guilt, the fear…
Sykes wasn't used to feeling that way and he knew, even then, that those feelings would be branded in his mind for the rest of his life…just like Nancy's tear filled eyes.
Looking down at her now, sobbing deliriously into his chest, he managed a smile, but it was weak, fake. Nancy didn't appear to notice, so pleased was she to have him back. She truly believed he loved her; she had no idea of the torment he'd endured in jail, yearning to free like an animal in a cage.
She wouldn't understand; she'd never known the pain he felt…
--
Fagin arrived at Bethnal Green early the next day, as if to reassure himself that Bill was alive and well. Bill greeted the old man with his usual gruffness but Fagin noticed there was something different about him. It wasn't just the rings of grey about his eyes or the strange sallowness of his skin…it was as if something had changed inside the young man. There was a certain lack of life about him, the way he had looked when Jeremy had been killed. Fagin shuddered to think of what the clink had been like for Bill; if it had changed him this much it was all the more firmly cemented in his mind as a place he didn't want to be.
Fagin brought Bill up to date with all the latest goings on in the gang and in the city but Bill told Fagin nothing of his experience in jail, even when asked. It was very clear that he didn't want to talk about it.
The elderly pickpocket left soon afterwards and Nancy, reluctant as she was to leave Bill's side, had to go out and buy some gin to replenish the rapidly emptying cupboard. The housebreaker was left alone with his thoughts, which didn't suit him at all, considering what they were. He suddenly had the urge to attack something, to destroy it. The impulse came upon him suddenly, with no previous thought to the matter. He managed to deal with it by kicking Bulls-Eye as the dog lurked under the table…but that emotion, and the suddenness of it, alarmed him.
Why had he felt like that? Was it fury at himself, for succumbing to cowardly emotions like fear and guilt? Was it anger at Fagin for making him and Toby go to the house? Was it anger at Toby for being found out?
He hadn't the slightest idea, but he was almost certain it had something to do with his time in Newgate. For all he knew, it had driven him mad. Not mad in the sense that Fagin was mad, but in a worse way, a violent way.
The sort of madness that could drive a man to murder.
The thought struck him, the idea of murder. It was like that night, preparing for the job, after he'd fought Evans to keep him away from Nancy. He'd scoffed at the idea of becoming a killer; he'd seen a man die before his eyes…and what reason would he have to kill anybody?
But now he wasn't so sure anymore.
--
Even as Bill contemplated this, many miles away, a young boy was apprenticed to an undertaker, a man whose business dealt in death. Neither that young boy, nor Bill Sykes could have guessed, that their actions would lead to an untimely demise…another, dreadful, death.
--
A/N: Sorry for the lack of updates as of late; revision is pure evil, I tell you. D:
I'll be updating whenever I get the chance, but these chances are few and far between, at least for the next few weeks. Just a heads up. ^^
Please R&R so I have something to look forward to besides Maths revision! XD
