Page 35 - Diversion Ahead

Since then, the very thought of Mrs. Margaret would pour the venom of

wrath in Harrison’s mind. His abhorrence for this woman came overflowing as
neither was he able to hand over the original documents to her, nor would she
stop bugging him incessantly. He had travelled so far in the path of violating
morality that retreating from it now would have been a tedious task. It occurred
to him that the best solution the put an end to this fiasco could be brought about
by putting Mrs. Margaret to an eternal sleep; to lead her towards the oblivion
from where she would be quite helpless to reach the periphery of truth.

Harrison knew that the best tool for his utility could be Joey’s blind faith in
him. It was time to take undue advantage of that faith in meeting his ruthless end.
Joey was the soft clay that he could carve into any mold. He was made to believe
that Mrs. Margaret snatched away from him, what was rightfully his: his father’s
last present that would make him his legal heir. For Joey, it was an emotional
bereavement. The piece of land was not simply a materialistic gain for him. It was
a thread by means of which he could have connected to the lost soul of his father.

It was a means by which he could have picked up the smashed pieces of his
father’s last remnants.

Harrison was well aware of the fact that both in his love and hatred, Joey
could reach the farthest possible end. His love for his father and the usurpation by
Mrs. Margaret of the memories left behind by Mr. Hudson would move him to a

state of insane outrage. As days passed by, Harrison kept instigating Joey to kill
Mrs. Margaret, so that he himself could remain white and stain free while the
blood of murder is splashed over Joey’s face.

That night, the brutality of the storm ravaged the entire town. Its ferocity
made the window panes strike against the walls relentlessly until as if the panes
demanded freedom from their hinges. But Joey could lend only a deaf ear to the

ongoing cacophony as the clamor inside his heart was unbelievably intense 
more intense than the sound of blade running through flesh or the sound of the
clattering thighs of a man, hanging mid air, embracing the gallows, amidst the
tremor running through his veins. “If the trembling hands can bring tranquility to
the mind and soul, if mere deceit of morality could bring a triumphant justice,
then it ought to be done” Joey spoke to himself. The commotion inside his mind

was abruptly interrupted by a piercing noise made by the doorbell, while on the
other side of the door; the guest was hardly knowledgeable that this bell would
lay down a funeral pyre for her own self.

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