Chapter 9: Possession

It was loud. Piercing actually. The sheer volume of the pumping valves of that one man’s heart simply struck terror into everyone. No one spoke as their eyes failed to transmit any of their emotions to their brains to be translated into words. Cold. There was no trace of any intensity, heat or tension that had filled the room just a while ago. Fear, instead, took its place in the minds of each and every one in the room. Consequences, it seemed, was a much harsher reality than the scene that they had created for themselves.

‘Clank!’ a sudden echo from the kitchen resonated.

Silence.

A footstep. Then another. A myriad of non-sequential stomps followed as if each foot were trying to catch up with the other. A shadow was quickly forming and what a sight! Knife in hand, pendant in another, Ethan Goodend stumbled out of the kitchen. Pale. What a face of snow! Bruises adorned his knuckles and his shirt bled velvet. His blade dripped of the same shade and his eyes scanned the room like a tiger looking for its prey.

‘By God! What have you done?’ One member of the suited band asked as his body shook and trembled.

Silence.

One man brave enough for the truth, brushed aside the rest, and charged into the room pompously.

He promptly fled, screaming hysterically at the top of his voice leaving a trail of fresh footprints. Velvet it was and terror it did endorse.

No one it seemed, absolutely no one, was ready for the sight of whatever was in the kitchen. The suited band, seeing that their own peer had left, followed suit in a rather haste and abrupt fashion.

Fortunately, certain innocence spared the twins from the truth of that day and trauma of the highest level wasn’t allowed into their lives that fateful moment.

‘Sit down father.’ Romulus quickly snatched at the nearest chair.

‘At least they’re gone, but what about the man behind?’

‘He is not our concern brother!’

‘I hope he is alright..’

‘I said! He is not our concern!’

Poor Ethan. He was a mess, a bag of nerves. His hollow eyes were rather haunting and he stared into space, with his grip on both the knife and pendant still firm.

‘It’s over boys.’ He suddenly said with disarming confidence.

They looked up at him. What a fatherly figure they thought in their own pubescent way. It was an image that they were to capture for the rest of their lives, an act of selfish goodwill that yet embodied protection and shelter at all costs. He looked at them too with a rather grim knowledge that it’d be the very last act of protection in his known life for them. Ethan teared and closed his eyes half knowing the fate that awaited him. Every muscle tightened, every vein surfaced and he hugged them tightly. He remembered Anne and grief consumed him.

One man dead, One family consequentially torn apart. One exposure to the most extreme action mankind can inflict on another. Fate, however, had dictated to remain consistently cruel. It was adamant on tearing up whatever was left of the Goodends. Like a vulture, it laid in wait to devour the family carcass.

Knock! A pounding at the door had brought their moving embrace to an abrupt standstill.