Chapter Fifty-One – Fatal Consequences
The raucous music swelled and the rowdy, drunken crowd pressed in on all sides, the tune sounding increasingly like the roars and screeches of wild animals than anything remotely resembling a melody. But even over this incessant din it wasn't hard to hear Bull's-Eye's barking, alerting his master that something was wrong.
Bill looked over at him and saw instantly what it was; Oliver had disappeared. He got to his feet, eyes darting about the tavern in search of the boy. At last he spotted him, not in the pub but just outside, a glimpse of the boy's retreating back as he was ushered away…by none other than Nancy.
He should have known something was up when Nancy first opened her mouth to sing, but the suspicion had never entered his mind. Instead he'd turned to Fagin and begun discussions for a crack planned for a fortnight on, utterly unaware of the deception playing out right under his nose. Fagin could have been in on it for all he knew, distracting him with talk and mugs of gin.
Not that what had occurred mattered now. What mattered was preventing what, in Bill's mind, was going to occur. Taking events at face value, it seemed to him as though Nancy was going to betray them all, or had done so already. The fact that she was taking Oliver away when he'd told her in no uncertain terms to keep him there was enough to rile Sykes. But there was more to it than that. He knew there was.
"If you ever do anythin' to betray me…anythin'…I swear…I'll kill ya."
His goal firm in mind, face set, determined to bring them both back, Bill pushed and shoved his way towards where he'd seen them last, paying no heed to the shouts and protests of those he jostled out of the way. He could hear Fagin close behind him but paid the old man no heed. His attention was focused entirely on the fleeing pair, his mind no longer there but instead alternating between past and present, memories and words long forgotten mingled with an unsettling new desire…the desire for revenge.
"Careful Bill, please! No violence!"
Fagin's warning fell on deaf ears. Bill was already far away, another time, another place, the sound of his footfalls as he ran across the bridge from the Cripples, through alleyways and across streets, pounding in his ears to mingle with his memories.
She was small, certainly, only a little over four feet in height, looking to be about ten years of age. She was as thin as the next starving street urchin but her ragged red dress, practically falling apart at the seams, looked to be a size too small for her. Her hair, stringy and copper coloured, framed her face elegantly; a face which would have been pretty were it not bearing a ferocious scowl; nose wrinkled in distaste, lips pursed, blue eyes narrowed.
Bill was taken aback.
Had this girl, this little ten year old girl, really attempted to attack him, and questioned what he'd done? Had she really just issued him a challenge? Who did she think she was?
He stopped suddenly, saw her running across the street, the boy's hand gripped tightly in hers. He moved into the shadows in case she saw him, but his worries were in vain. She simply kept running, didn't look back. Didn't look back at the man she claimed she loved.
Despite everything, she was in love with him. And this, she knew, would never change. Not even when she died.
He kept running, always ensuring he stayed far behind enough not to be noticed, yet not so far behind he'd lose track of them. He knew where they were going now, recalling the route they were taking as though he'd walked it a thousand times.
London Bridge.
Where it had all began. Where he'd slept the night he'd ran away from home, the day before he met Fagin. And now, where it would all end. If Nancy betrayed them it would mean the end of all Bill knew and dared to hold dear. He couldn't let it all slip away. He couldn't face the end of everything, not when he'd already lost so much. It never occurred to him that Nancy hadn't peached; it was the only logical explanation for her actions. It never entered his head that she was trying to save Oliver from the same fate she'd endured, the same destruction of innocence, the same life of pain and torment. In his mind, she was a traitor.
"I'm sorry Mister Fagin got mad at ya."
"Wotever. Go to sleep."
"Bill?"
"Wot?"
"I wosn't listenin' to ya, I swear I wosn't. I ain't a sneak."
They'd reached the bridge. Bill stopped in his tracks, Bull's-Eye at his heels. From where he stood, managing to tear his gaze from Nancy and the boy for a mere moment, he was quick to spot the toff waiting for them, pacing, his outline shrouded somewhat in mist but then thrown into sharp relief by the lamplight.
Bill drew closer, saw Oliver run into Nancy's arms in a warm embrace. The sentiment of the moment was lost on Sykes; he was too far gone now. He had to get the boy back, stop him telling the toff everything. He had to stop Nancy. And there was only one way to do so.
Nancy wasn't as confused as Bill with regards to her emotions; she was surprised that Bill was acting this way; he usually didn't act as though he cared, about anyone or anything, but now it was clear to her that hedidcare. About the gang. About her.
"Thanks, Nance," Bill said as he let go of her, ruffling her hair in an affectionate manner. "You're a good 'un."
Nancy giggled as Bill's large hand tickled the top of her head.
"You are too, y'know," she said, bending down to retrieve her presents and stow them carefully back in her pockets. "I think you're…well…nicerthan you let on. You just need to show it more."
He ran forwards even as Nancy shepherded Oliver up the stairs, grabbing her around the waist with one hand and Oliver with the other. He attempted to throw her to the ground to get a firmer grip on the struggling boy but before he knew what was happening, Nancy had grabbed ahold of him…she was fighting back.
"Bill! For God's sake let him go! Leave him be!"
Her furious yells only served to incense Sykes further. He pushed Oliver away and turned to face her, but before he could do anything he felt her strike him across the face, frightful and wild in her frenzy to escape, to help the child escape.
Despite Nancy's sudden and unexpected attack, it was Bill who had the upper hand, forcing her backwards, pushing her behind the bridge. He felt her fingers digging into his skin, saw the look in her eyes, a confused mixture of fury and fear. Yet there was something else there too, something akin to tenderness, the way she'd felt about him when they first admitted they loved each other. She still loved him. He could see it in her eyes.
Did he love her? How could he tell? He was blinded by fury, blinded by fear…any semblance of sentimentality had fled from his mind. He was consumed, enveloped in anger…Nancy had betrayed them…he'd warned her what would happen, and what had she gone and done?
He managed to pry her off him, throw her to the ground. She was still screaming, but begging now, pleading, seeing the fury that undoubtedly burned fierce in his eyes. She attempted to get to her feet but all in vain. Bill hefted the jemmy in his hand and struck her down.
"All you see is a villain, a monster! But he ain't that! 'E's got a heart, y'know, 'e's got feelin's, just like any of us!"
Nancy continued to scream, to plead for mercy, despite the blood that was now gushing from where the crowbar had struck. Bill raised the club and struck her again, he could hear her cries, he could see the blood yet it had no effect on him…or it seemed not to.
Nancy was certain, for a brief moment, that he could kill, her, that hewouldkill her…Bill's face swam before her eyes…her tear-filled eyes…
Her cries were growing weaker now, her voice thick with unshed tears, gurgling slightly with the blood welling up from within. Her pale skin shone eerily in the light from the streetlamps, skin now flecked with fierce, fiery crimson.
Another blow.
"Nancy misses you, Bill."
Bill shook his head in disbelief. She didn't miss him; she'd be happy now with Dodger.
Nancy would be better off without him. He was no good for her.
She was nearly silenced, trembling and convulsing in a pool of her own blood, her screams and cries now no more than whispers. She was still alive, but she wouldn't be for much longer. He struck her again, seemingly unable to help himself, the crowbar rising and falling in his grip like a vicious machine that refused to break down…
Nancy had put him in his place.
He couldn't help remembering the first time they'd met, if only for a brief instant; she'd defied him then, and she had defied him now.
He couldn't let that happen again.
He wouldn't.
The final blow. He saw her mouth working furiously to form her last words, saw her shudder with her final breath. It would be a waste to time to check for a pulse, a heartbeat. It was evident even at a glance that there was no saving her; the brutal beating she'd been dealt had seen to it that her life was at an end. As Sykes looked down at the fallen Nancy his grip on the crowbar grew weaker until he was unable to hold it any longer; it fell to the cobblestones beside her with a clatter, the force of the impact flecking Sykes' coat with even more blood than it already was streaked with.
His eyes were wide, his breath coming quick and sharp. What had he done? He tore his eyes away from Nancy's corpse and examined his hands. His brutal hands. His blood-stained hands. The hands of a murderer.
But then it occurred to him that, brutal as he could be, he wasn't a killer. He could drink and shout and swear and fight but kill? It didn't seem impossible, what with Bill being who he was, but the man himself just couldn't picture it. He'd seen a man die, right before his eyes and had felt guilty enough then…and Bill wasn't a man for guilt or regret.
'Me; a murderer?' he scoffed to himself as he stowed his gun in the inside pocket of his greatcoat. 'Don't make me laugh.'
In the past, he hadn't wanted to see her get hurt. After the first time he'd hit her, he'd sworn he wouldn't do it again. He'd felt genuine guilt, regret, despite himself, despite everything. Nancy was the one good thing in his life, the one person who truly loved him, the one person he could always depend on. But in those few furious moments, he was no longer the man he had been. He was no longer a man at all.
He was a murderer.
"I…I'm sorry B-Bill…" she whispered hoarsely, not daring to even move a hand to her face for fear of another blow.
"Don't lie to me,"
He was the one who was sorry now, he was the one who felt regret, he was the one with silent tears coursing down his cheeks. But it was too late.
Nancy was dead. And he, Bill Sykes, had killed her.
A/N: It's been far, far too long my dears. Exams, writers block, preparing to move to Scotland and start a new school…that all adds up to utter chaos and a lack of writing. Here's hoping I still have some readers! XD
The final chapter will come sometime soon; in the mean time, please read and review. ^_^
