The Taking of Eleanor Ainsworth

Chapter 23

It latched onto his brain as if it was a parasite, slowly consuming him from the inside out. The death of India was the icing on the cake, the gun that triggered his insanity into free fall. He was falling, falling into endless darkness, oblivious to what waited for him at the bottom. He was a prisoner to his own mind being held captivate with no chances of release, being served a life sentence with no expiry.

The guilt destroyed him, it cut deep, creating wounds that only scabbed over and had yet to scar. His sin weighing heavy on his conscience, drilling a hole in his heart and letting it bleed out. Even the tiniest mention of India and his would be child was enough to split the wounds back open and start the healing process again. He was never fully healed, and his mind had never fully recovered. Something was left behind that day, a part of him that he could never get back.

He had no recollection of time anymore and found himself wandering, aimlessly, wandering the streets of London on a God given mission. To find a replacement, only then would he be free of the insanity that took hold of him. The insanity that pulled at his strings as if he was a puppet and it, the puppeteer.

"You simply won't do." He sighed, stroking back the girls hair to reveal her freckled face and thin lips. "It's all wrong, you're all wrong." He said, standing up and lifting the girls limp body over his shoulder. She was dead, her heavy body weighing hard on his shoulder. He dumped her body in the bushes and dusted his gloved hands off on his jacket.

"I'll have to start again...start fresh." He mumbled "yes start fresh, India will come back, I know she will. She has to." He carried on, pulling his hood up over his face to shield it from the harsh wind that was whipping at it, turning it into a shade of crimson.

He stuffed his hands into his pocket as he wandered down Soho. He hated being in Central London, he hated being close to other people on public transport and in the streets, a gentle brush or a nudge by a stranger was enough to give him anxiety.

But being in Soho at that time was perfect for him, the fruit were ripe for the picking here, he just had pick the juiciest and ripest one. One that wouldn't bruise so easily when he touched it. Early mornings were the best, where the last of stragglers would drunkenly attempt to get home, after a night of sex, alcohol and more sex.

He walked the empty streets, examining every face that passed him. He was growing frustrated, it had been a week and he still had yet to find a replacement. He needed to find her soon for he feared Eleanor would go over the edge without anyone beside himself to talk to. She even hated talking to him, she hated everything about him and thats what made the hole in his heart bigger.

"In time she will grow to love me. These things take time. Time yes, time is all she needs. She has all the time in world." He snickered, stopping dead in his tracks as a petit girl in scrubs stood in front of him at a distance, she was the one, everything about her screamed India, from her caramel skin, radiant under the dim light of the lamppost to her big doleful brown eyes as she looked up from her phone. Her hair was a tangle of shoulder length curls that he yearned to touch and run his hands through. This was his new India, he wanted her.

She looked across the road and started to run across it, into the train station opposite. He followed suit behind her, releasing a breath that he did not realise he was holding. The sudden expel of breath creating steam as it touched the cold air. He slid through the barriers, looking left and then right before noticing a flash of curls and going right.

He sped down the never ending steps until he ended up on the platform, usually it would be seething with humanity but at this time, a time where the trains start operating, the platform was empty, except for a few individuals, himself and God's gift. She was surely a gift to him.