The Cemetery

Chapter-6

A murderer? Adam's words had shocked me to my core. It wasn't that I expected Mr. Lamoril to be a nice guy but what Adam asserted was definitely the last consideration on my mind. Was I even listening to it right?

"Can you repeat what you just said?" I asked to clarify.

"Mr. Lamoril is a murderer, Elizabeth," He snapped all of a sudden, his face red with an amalgamation of anger, fear, and regret.

So, I did hear it right. It was not some issue with my hearing abilities. Adam specifically concentrated on the word 'murderer' yet again. Mr. Lamoril is really a murderer.

An involuntary gasp escaped out of my lips before I turned to look Adam straight in the eye for interrogation. After all, how much can I trust a stranger and take his word? His accusation was also simply too big for me to accept without any suspicion.

"How do you know that? How do I know if I can trust you?" I demanded.

Gone was the embarrassed, shy look on his face with my words and all that was noticeable was fury mixed with salty tears running down his face. His red eyes-like a ball of sun- burned brightly as he stepped closer to me and said in a firm voice, "That man killed my sister."

He didn't stop there. He took a step further and placed my hand on his t-shirt and forcefully used it to lift it, giving the limelight to his burn marks again. He grabbed my fingers and brought them closer to his chest. Not even a hiss left his mouth as he let my fingers run through the marks. It was almost as if he was trying to settle my doubts about him and declare genuineness in his words.

"How about you stop this and explain through words?" I whispered with a cold stare.

"No, this will explain it better," He gritted as he gripped my hand even tighter and roamed it throughout his chest.

His confidence around me had obviously taken a rise so to teach him a lesson I poked hardly at one of his burn marks and almost pinched his skin until he jumped around, waggling his hands and hissing like a baby. After a moment, he presumably faced towards me to glare but when he saw the glare that I returned, he just sighed and sat down on the bump of the land, patting the space beside him.

"Sit down. It's a long story. I'll explain everything."

Maintaining some distance, I sat in front of him so as to make strong eye contact that can pull out the truth, if need be.

"I live in a village just a bit far from the Lamoril Villa. My sister... Angela. Oh, God! This is hard for me. Give me some time," He said before clutching his head while tapping his foot consistently.

The uncertainty and dismay were crystal clear on his face. He was definitely trying to stall as if the story was too hard for him to repeat to a stranger. His face looked similar to mine when in childhood my father would tell me ghost stories to make me go to bed early so that he could beat my mother without any interruption. I could already feel my head boiling at the memory so I dug my nails on my thigh to keep myself under control. Wrath is not a good picture for me.