Chapter Fifty – How Things Have Become
It was not as though Bill and Toby had been particularly close; barely even partners let alone friends. Sykes had always made it known, even in Toby's face on occasion, that the man irked and irritated him no end. And yet Toby Crackit's death brooked a change in Bill Sykes than none in the gang could have anticipated.
It was though it was one loss, one death too many. He'd seen the old gang disappear; caught, transported, killed… He'd seen a man bleed to death before his eyes. And yet it was the death of the flamboyant housebreaker that sent Bill over the edge.
It was widely suspected among the gang that Bill Sykes had finally cracked, lost his head, gone mad. Hardly a word could be spoken to him that didn't set him off into the most ferocious and violent of tempers. But even though it was well known that Bill was violent, Fagin and the boys, for the most part, had no idea how just how much the relationship between Bill and Nancy had deteriorated; plunging from seemingly genuine love into the throes of terror, madness and pain. Little did they know they would soon find out just how bad things had become.
It was the day after Toby's death when the truth was revealed. Nancy had gone to visit Fagin and the boys, as she hadn't been to see them for weeks, so preoccupied had she been with Bill, even though it had been awhile since he was freed from jail. He had already gone off for the day, although to where she had no idea. On the way over to the den she'd picked up a copy of the newspaper for Fagin; she knew how he hated having to leave the den to get it early in the morning. However she barely glanced at it having swiped it, more concerned with getting to Fagin's than the front page.
"What's that you have for me, my dear?" Fagin asked as Nancy entered the den, paper in hand. He seemed in good spirits despite the boys clamoring for food around him at every turn.
"Wot's it look like Fagin?" replied Nancy with a laugh, tossing the paper onto the table, once again without looking at it. "It's the paper."
"What a ready wit you are, my dear," Fagin said with a small laugh, before he was distracted from the conversation at hand by Charley's observation that the toast was burning. Having salvaged what he could of breakfast he left the boys to fall upon it while he went over to talk to Nancy. However, his ferret like eyes fell, not on her, but the paper at her side.
HOUSEBREAKER TOBIAS CRACKIT DROWNED IN BRUMLEY RIVER AND WITH HIM EVIDENCE OF HIS LATEST, AND LAST, ROBBERY
"Nancy…" he said, his voice hoarse with constricted emotion; shock, fear. He could say no more but simply continued to stare at the paper. Nancy, confused by Fagin's expression, looked at it too. Her eyes grew wide, and a hand flew to her mouth as she attempted to stifle a small cry of shock. How could she not have noticed that before? She looked from the paper to Fagin and back again; Fagin had gone white and was biting his lower lip hard enough to draw blood.
Dodger, looking up from his breakfast, was quick to notice the sombre and shocked expressions of the pair.
"Fagin?" he asked, all innocence. "Nance? Wot's got you two lookin' so scared eh?"
As if on cue there was a loud and furious hammering at the door and the sound of shouting, very slurred, unintelligible shouting. But it was a voice the occupants of the flat knew all too well. Bill.
Fagin and Nancy exchanged glances, as if debating who it should be to open the door. Nancy eventually went to open it, another gasp of terror leaving her at the state Bill was in. He was completely off his head with drink; it was obvious not only from the glint of his eyes and the colour of his cheeks but the expression on his stony face.
"B-Bill?" Nancy asked. A silence seemed to have descended on the flat and its occupants as all turned to look at the pair framed in the door; the furious Sykes and the anxious Nancy. The two seemed oblivious to the stares however, caught, trapped in a world of their own.
Bill said nothing. He simply raised his hand and struck her down.
There was a moment of complete silence, broken only by the sound of Nancy's shallow, shocked breathing as she looked up at Bill. Bill didn't even spare her a glance; it was as though he couldn't see any of them, as though he was trapped inside his own head.
The silence passed as suddenly as it had come. Fagin and a couple of the boys hurried forwards to help Nancy to her feet; Nancy was maneuvered into a chair and watched over by the boys as Fagin approached Bill once more, biting his lip.
"Bill, m-my dear…" he said, looking from Nancy to the young man before him and back again, hardly daring to try and meet Bill's eyes. He knew he had to tread carefully; Bill was clearly not in a temper to be trifled with. But there was something strange about the whole scenario…he knew Bill was violent, he knew what he was capable of…but never, in all the time the relationship between Bill and Nancy had been going on, never had he suspected this. He had assumed, somehow, that with Nancy all Bill's rage and tempers faded, and it had certainly looked that way at the start. But now things had taken a turn for the worse, and the old man could not believe how blind he'd been to it.
"Bill…" he tried again. "Bill…I don't understand…"
"'Course you don't," spat the housebreaker, shifting his gaze to glower at his old mentor. "None of you does. 'Ow could yer?"
This didn't help to ease Fagin's confusion any.
"W-why…why did you just go and….h-hit Nancy, my d-dear?"
Bill shook his head. Even he wasn't sure. It had become second nature to him without him meaning it to; he'd sworn he wouldn't hit her again…that seemed so long ago now. Somehow it had made sense in his gin-addled brain…Nancy had always been suspicious of Toby so she must have had something to do with his demise…Bill wasn't even sure how his own mind came up with these thoughts, but they'd been there enough for him to act on them.
Bill Sykes was a changed man. He'd grown from a troubled boy into a violent youth. His relationship with Nancy, for all outward appearances, seemed to have changed him for the better, but it was clear despite any feelings that he may once have had for her, he was still trapped within a cage of brutality, unable to escape. What could have been, and should have been, an opportunity to make himself a better man, a kind, loving, caring man, had only ended in this. More violence, more sorrow, more pain. It was like a never ending, vicious cycle from which he could never break free even if he tried, despite everything.
And little did he know how his violent tendencies would reach new heights, excel the boundaries of all he had done before and would ever do again. Nor how soon this would happen. How could he have guessed? He'd threatened it. But he'd dismissed the notion as ridiculous, what reason would he have to, he never could, he never would…
"If you ever do anythin' to betray me…anythin'…I swear…I'll kill ya."
