A Cure for the Blind

Chapter 46 - Into the Abyss

Chapter Forty-Six

Into the Abyss

He wrote the text. He did it while sitting on his father’s leather chair, in front of his father’s majestic desk, surrounded by his father’s most precious possessions, carefully looked upon by his father’s immortalized eyes.

He wrote the document. Jonathan read it and his eyes shined, signing it with hunger. Victor took the paper back and laid it on the desk. He looked at it for what felt like an eternity. The hand that held the pen burned.

Finally, he lifted the heavy object, expertly aimed it at the cursed sheet and wrote his name. The name his father gave him.

Victor von Mallesch.

Afterwards, he stamped the paper with his father’s crest.

Jonathan didn’t move to pick up the paper. Victor knew he wouldn’t. He simply extended his arm, opened his hand and grinned. He waited patiently for Victor to hand it to him.

More symbolic.

More humiliating.

When the detective finally grabbed the sheet of paper, Victor felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off his arm. Jonathan eyed the plain paper turned official document and rejoiced.

The sound of loud laughter that filled the room did not belong to him, though.

The laughter belonged to Victor.

He laughed with genuine amusement. Yet, somehow, he felt darker than ever. It was almost a hysterical laugh, yet it reeked of evil.

Hazenberg eyed him with the kind of stare one would spare a pitiful drowning man.

“Have you finally been broken, Victor?” he asked, with venomous kindness.

“I just remembered something,” Victor shared, trying to control the fit of mad laughter. He sat on his father’s chair and closed his eyes, his wide smile consuming his expression. When he re-opened his eyes, the look on his face spelled insanity. “I just realized something and it’s quite amusing. I am sure you, of all people, will get it.”

Jonathan patiently waited for Victor to stop laughing once again. The younger man rubbed his tired face and grinned with twisted humor.

“I killed my father’s murderer already.” He chuckled. “My sister already killed him and we didn’t even know it.” He then returned his stare to Jonathan and laughed again. “And you want to know the best part?” Victor’s eyes were widened, as if he had been caught in a hilarious surprise. “I actually felt bad about it. I felt remorse. I held Julius Grunt’s body as he slowly died and tried to comfort him. I let the death of my father’s murderer haunt me. I let it torture me. I buried him in my father’s garden as a sign of regret and respect.”

He laughed loudly again - a maniacal, loud, desperate laughter – and then looked at Jonathan as if begging him to join him.

“Isn’t it amazing? Isn’t it the most entertaining thing you have ever heard? It’s brilliant!”

“No, Victor. It’s actually one of the saddest.” If Victor didn’t know any better, he would’ve believed that the detective was actually feeling sorry for him. He would’ve thought Jonathan Hazenberg was actually eyeing him with pity and kindness. “You are broken at last, von Mallesch.”

Victor rested against the comfortable chair’s back and let his laughter fill his silent home with madness.

***

She watched him approaching through the corner of her eye and sighed in annoyance. It was just what she needed.

“Another one, Lionel, please,” Ethel asked the bartender for another glass of wine. She wasn’t drunk yet and she desperately wanted to be.