Wondrous Master | boyxboy | (alternate happy ending)

XVIII - Haunted

It would be their first time sleeping inside their new home, and while he and Neville lay beneath the covers of their own bed, Broderick found it oddly difficult to sleep. While Neville was tucked against his chest, Broderick merely laid there staring up at the ceiling above them. The room all around was dark, shadows cast about the floor from the furniture, and howls of far off owls brought sound into the stillness. Though some time had passed since the last time he'd taken the life of someone, it was still hard for Broderick to get the haunting vision of soulless eyes and frozen corpses out of his mind. Night after night he could still hear the ringing sound of gunshots in his ear, see the pools of blood he'd left in his wake throughout the course of an entire year. Nearly nineteen as it was, Broderick began to worry if these crimes he'd committed would follow him into the years. Would he always see their faces, hear the cries of the few he'd severely wounded with a poor shot before ending them entirely?

Even as the gentle night remained calm around him, Broderick would hear the ruckus deep within the recesses of his mind, and whenever he shut his eyes for too long, he was faced with the blood and gore of the scenes he'd left behind in the homes of Islesbury. He'd felt so much hatred for each of the people he'd killed, and in those moments of conspiracy, what he felt to be a good thing, Broderick hadn't felt a thing regarding his actions. Did that make him a monster as well? Could he truly call himself an honest man when so many lives had been ended for his own judicial reasons? Anyone in their right mind could say that those people deserved to be punished, but when one ruled out the punishment themselves...perhaps they were also in the wrong.

When the rivers of blood coursing through his imagination refused to go away, Broderick softly placed Neville aside and rose from the full sized bed. He was dressed in just a pair of tan knickers that tied at the waist, and then quietly he excused himself from the bedroom, but not before grabbing the Lancaster rifle he had loaded and ready leaned against the tall wardrobe cupboard beside the window. He shut the door behind him when he stepped out, sure to remain quiet as not to wake up Neville.

Broderick moved down the narrow corridor that led to the front area of the cottage, stepping into the dining area that was connected to the kitchen and living area by two vaulted open doorways. He took a seat in a spindle back chair at the wooden table, turning on the light of the lantern sitting in the center of it. A dim burn lit the front rooms softly, and when Broderick sat back in the chair, he laid the rifle in his hands across his lap.

There was a portion of his brain telling him to throw the weapon away, get rid of it now that it had served its bloody purpose, but even with that in mind, there was still that side of him that wanted to hold onto it. He let his hand move down the underside of the long barrel, the smooth wood against his palm, and then he raised it as if ready to pull the trigger. He aimed directly for the front door of the cottage as if someone might walk in. Over time, he'd been able to perfect his usage of the gun, like it'd become another part of him in those several months of his murder spree.

Fearful that this was one element that would forever keep him tied to all he has done, Broderick thought it best to get rid of it, distance himself from it before he could be tempted to use it again. And though he wouldn't destroy the lethal weapon...he would essentially seal it away from his view. Keeping that in mind, Broderick grabbed the lantern from the table and headed for the front door. With no boots on his feet or a coat to shield his body from the nightly chill, Broderick walked with the rifle and lantern around towards the back of the cottage. His horse was free to roam, grazing out in the green field as she looked up when her owner appeared from the shadows.

Broderick went straight for the storage unit and unlatched the doors. It blew open with the help of the cold breeze, and when he stepped inside, he searched for a shovel amongst the other gardening tools. Once it was in hand, Broderick grabbed one of the saddle blankets from a hook on the inside wall, and then wrapped the rifle up in the dark brown material.