I walked to the place where the judge was executed.
The judge was on the stretcher, and his wife cried over his corpse. His face was pale, and a stench came from the body—not from his corpse, but he pissed himself in his final moments. His mouth was open wide, and foam came out of his mouth.
I was standing in front of the crowd, witnessing everything. Suddenly, the lady started scratching her arms, and her skin began to tear. People came and stopped her, struggled, and screamed.
"Why was he killed? He didn't do anything wrong. Why?"
She sobbed and beat his chest in hope he would wake, but she also knew there was no coming back.
"God have mercy." She continued to sob.
"Everyone is guilty."
"He will never achieve happiness; God will punish him."
I watched everything. The hopelessness in his eyes, distrust in the world, and, most importantly, the complete collapse of an individual in front of me—yet I couldn't help but wonder how, because of a corrupt man, the lives of his family were destroyed.
I began walking home, trying to avoid that alleyway where the fat nobleman lived.
Suddenly, someone screamed.
I ran there.
The lady sliced her throat! Blood spilled everywhere; the child sat there, tried to sob, but was too shocked to. The atmosphere was heavy; the sun reflected from the blood. It was so heavy that it almost choked him.
Huh? She died? Because of me? It can't be.
No, I am not responsible for it. That fat, corrupt noble is responsible for this. No innocent human has died because of me. It is not possible.
I ran through the crowd; the sun was setting on me.
I was unable to watch it; I ran through the thick fog of the evening.
I did the right deed; I didn't want to kill her. I didn't kill her.
I reached a street.
Suddenly, everything was a blur. I saw nothing but a few silhouettes running towards me.
My mind stopped me.
And then I collapsed.
Nothing but darkness.
"Jack, come to Dad."
A warm hand touched my cheeks as I crawled to him. The voice was soft yet stiff; he picked me. Mom was making food in the kitchen. The house was familiar, but not at all the house where Mom and I lived.
"I want to; I don't want to do this anymore. I want to stay here," I said to my dad. He didn't scold me, rather—
"Don't do anything against your will."
"But what about you? I have to avenge both of you.
"I cried. No, I am scared. I am a coward who is scared of losing money. I am scared to pay for bullets with which I could've saved Mom. I am a terrible person, Dad, very terrible."
He patted my head.
"Oh my little child, don't be scared."
"But—but am I not a terrible dad?"
"Yes, you are," a familiar voice echoed.
Suddenly, everything was dark. Two large hands came in.
"How can you ask yourself if you are good or not?
Did you forget what you did to me?"
My mouth was stitched. It didn't open; the hands started moving towards me. Close—closer.
My eyes opened. Unable to react, a lady came towards me and asked.
"Jack, are you right?"
Blurriness slowly reduced, and I saw a lady.
I didn't speak; I simply didn't have energy for this anymore.
I can't do this anymore. Anyone, please kill me.
I said nothing but stared at the ceiling of that hospital.
The doctor called that lady.
"How is he now, doctor?"
"Oh, Lucy, it is good that you took him here quickly. He had a minor heart attack."
"Why, Doctor?" she asked.
"I don't know; perhaps due to stress, he might get well if he wants to."
"Thank you, Doctor, for your help."
The doctor was gone, but Lucy stayed; she kept asking.
"What happened, Jack? Why are you stressed about it?"
But I didn't say anything.
"Ok, if you can't tell me, I will come tomorrow. Just remember, all the circus is with you." She left the hospital.
Slowly and steadily, night came in the starry night that was hidden by the smog of Whitechapel.
A lady walked home—the night was silent, as if something had stopped it from making a noise.
Her mother was there with her; she walked with her, but she didn't speak a bit.
"I am sorry," the old mother said.
"Nothing to worry about; I am not the only one who has experienced this."
Then there was silence that no one dared to break.
But suddenly
Bang! The lady was on the ground. A silhouette struck her head.
"Ahh," she tried to be free, but a metal chain strangled her so hard that she couldn't be free from it.
Her mother, shocked yet protective, tried to punch him. But bang.
He shot her.
"I don't want to die…I don't want to die," she said while she tried to untangle herself. Her eyes became red, her vision became blurry, and her memories flashed into her head, but she died even before the world knew her.
The murderer took a sigh of relief.
He slowly took the chain from her neck. The silhouette was impossible to see.
He began walking; suddenly, he stopped. He took something out, reached the corpse, and sliced and planted something in the neck.
No one was a witness to what happened, but little does the silhouette know someone has witnessed the darkness.
Slowly, the sun rose. The yellow smog due to the sun covered all of London. A man screamed on the scene.
The crowd began to gather around the corpse; the mother was shot and yet alive, but unconscious. Doctors came and woke her up.
"Mrs., what happened to you last night?" a detective asked.
She shivered from the sight she saw.
"Ahh!" Tears began to shed continuously.
"It...it was a demon, a silhouette; he killed her. He was the silhouette of the darkness."
"What happened, Doctor?" the detective asked.
"It looks like she died from the excessive force on her neck."
Another police official came.
Sir, we found this with the body.
"Huh?"
"A tarot card of the hanged man."
Why cards, though?.
He called an official.
He wrote something on paper and told him.
See, give this paper to Edward Huckel.
Edward was sitting in his cabin smoking his cigar.
Henry entered the room.
"What happened?" Edward kept his legs on the table.
"Sir, I found a file in past cases. Sir, according to it
Jack murdered his father!"