Part One: The Perpetrator's Perspective

Chronicle Link: https://laurelinarchives.org/node/53365

On this particular day, the sultry sun emanated a rare sort of heat, one that possessed such a fieriness to it that I would not have been surprised if it caused the woodland shrubs to ignite. Later, I was told it was the hottest day of the year, and that extinguished my curiousity, as I was certainly not surprised at that! It also meant that I was more vigilant. You see, the pigments of my skin were prone to burn, rather severely at that, and Clara was just as sensitive to the sun as I. And, of course, there was my darling boy, Wesley, to consider. Like Clara, he was the most valuable lifeform in both of our existence, and so it was imperative that he was limited to the amount of time he was exposed to such a blistering heat.

I made the choice to cover myself up, as that was what was sensible, and so my trousers went down to my ankles and my shirt were cupped at my wrists. My choice of apparel was ridiculed by the men at the Lumber Yard that day, and by some I crossed whilst walking with my Father to work, but I did not care, as many did in fact complain immensely on their sunburn at the end of our shift. If anything, I was rather smug at that point! Oh, I wish I were like my Father and Briana, as they seemed to have been blessed with less sensitive skin than myself or my Mother. However, the sun must have rewarded me that day, as I was only received a light reddish imprint that covered my nose and cheeks.

As I was walking home from work, Clara and Wesley must have watched me come down the cobbled streets with my Father as they waited for me outside. I often think to myself how I became so lucky to possess two beautiful souls, that carry the same love and devotion to me, as I do for them. They were precious and adored. I greeted Clara with a kiss and a cuddle, with the same given to Wesley shortly, as we headed inside for dinner. My wife never failed with her meals, as they were always hearty and delicious, and I was particularly famished this day, and so I devoured my meat and taters without delay or hesitation.

We bathed Wesley together, as it had become an evening ritual that we both enjoyed, and then we put him to bed. As we, myself, and Clara, sunk into the bench by the hearth, I noticed that she had not been herself this evening. She was quiet, which was certainly not like her, as she had this certain humour and wit that was usually so clear and promient. I would even go as far to say that she looked nervous, and that she was holding something back. She was my wife, and I worried for her, and once it had come to my attention, I immediately asked:

‘’Is everythin’ alright, dear? You seem awfully quiet, which isn’t like ye’? Has somethin’ happened?’’

It was then that she sighed, extremely heavily, and she turned to me with an unreadable expression. At this moment, I was now worried, especially as she reached for my hand as she spoke:

‘’I love ye’, Will. I really do. But there’s somethin’ I have to tell ye’…’’ She took a pause that was only for a few moments, but it felt like a lifetime: ‘’Remember when we took that short break from one another? Ye know, the one we thought was both needed. Well, I...’’

Her words rang in my ears, and they imprinted sorely on my brain, causing a significant strain and pain that I had never quite felt before in my twenty-three years of walking this earth. She explained that, in this short break, she laid with another man. It was then that Wesley was conceived, and so he was not my son. I had assisted her in bringing up another man’s child, and she had deceived me in doing so, as she then went on to explain that she came back to me because she found out she was pregnant. That is why we married; you see, so that she was protected from the reputation she would have received from having a babe out of wedlock.

I stared at her blankly, as the woman that I was once loved and cherished was no longer the one that sat across from me. She had been replaced with a woman that I did not recognise, one that frightened me, and one that broke my heart so acutely that I was unsure how if I were to ever recover from it. Clara was crying, and at one time I would have cared, but I can admit that I did not. She dared to touch me again, to comfort me, but I brushed her hand away without a second thought:

‘’Goodnight, Clara.’’ That was all I could manage, as I then made my way into the bedroom and shut the door behind me, and I used a chair to prevent the door from being opened. I did not want her near me. I laid in bed, but I did not sleep, as the thoughts that swam through my troubled mind were becoming more intense and deadly as the night progressed. I did not even lay in bed for long, as the thought that the act between Clara and this stranger occurred in this bed did cross my mind, and so I began to pace back and forth.

Morning came, and I had not slept, nor was I upset. Oh no! My anger had overtaken any emotion that could have ever been felt, and the thought of Clara sickened me, as did the child. They were no longer a Davies, as they could never take my name, and I was unsure what I would do if my eyes rested upon them. I was about to find out, though, as I left the bedroom and they were the vision that was played out in front of me. Clara, and Wesley, looked at me hopelessly, but I could sense that my expression was one of disgust at the vulgar sight in front of me:

‘’Mornin’, love. Can I get you somethin’ to eat? Or drink? Or… Can you tell me what you are thinkin’?’’

I ignored her and then I helped myself to the food that was on the table, having no regard to them, as I felt the blood in my being boil.

I tried calming myself down, but then she touched me again, and that is when everything went black.

. . . . .

I returned from my state of unconsciousness, or whatever it might have been, and the scene that laid out in front of me was indescribable. Clara, once my beautiful and loving wife, was now mutilated beyond being recognised. The floor was stained with the scarlet liquid that oozed out of her lifeless body, whilst the screams of Wesley roared ferociously, bouncing off the walls and drumming annoyingly in my ears. I did not feel remorse as my wife laid there, drenched in her own blood and significantly disfigured and scarred, as I looked to the bloodied knife that rested in my hand.

I was now a brutal killer, but in my heart of hearts, she deserved it. Who could do that to a man? Only a woman that had no care for those that adored her, those who relished in her beauty and the exquisite soul that she was, and those that would have been on the other side of that knife for her if it were necessary. Her end was what she deserved, and her passing did affect the lingering anger that infused my body still, as I then looked to Wesley. I was now a brutal killer, but even I could not murder a child. He was an innocent bystander in this, as he could not be held accountable for his Mother’s heinous web of lies that she had fed me, but I roughly reached for him with my hand whilst I still held the knife.

Wesley had actually calmed down, as he seemed to find some comfort in my arms, for which hurt and angered me once more. In that moment, I wished that she had not told me and that I could return to loving them endlessly, but I was a fool to want that. My attention was turned from Wesley as I heard the handle of the front door unlocked and turn, and before long, my beloved sister had now witnessed what I had done.

She looked so innocent, as she was merely sixteen at the time, and the look she gave me was one that I will never forget. It shall always haunt me, as I watched her eyes move between the body, the knife, Wesley, and then me. Abriana then turned to run. I panicked, and once more, everything seemed to go black again. It did not last as long this time, but I did look down to my sister as she screamed, whilst she pressed her hands desperately on the wound that I just inflicted upon her. I could not bare to look at her, and so I did not, as I stepped over her crying, helpless body and made a run for it myself.

Wesley was to be disposed of, but I was unsure how and where I was going to do it. So, I simply took my horse and rode as far away as possible. I knew that I would never forgive myself for what had happened to my sister, as she was the last person to deserve such pain, and I yearned and hoped for a time where she would allow me to explain myself.