Chapter 18 — Unshakable Evils

It was only two days left for Nella Bradshaw, the common-law wife of Christopher Bradshaw, to be buried in the ground. And with her husband recovering from wounds he had received from the hands of the local police squad after plotting with his wife to kidnap and murder one of the police officers who had answered to a frightening call at his front yard. Then, more recently, another wound to the ear from one of his own sons; most of the funeral responsibilities had to be now left into the hands of the Good Samaritan who had miraculously entered the life of the Bradshaw’s family.

Since the death of one of the Bradshaw’s children, Lillian, by way of suicide, and her brother Philip had gone hunting for a job by the Crushing Company, not too far away from the Bradshaw’s home. Mr. Marshall had been nothing but utterly generous to the entire family. Giving the whole family food prepared by the hands of his wife, employing both brother and sister to work at his company, and even giving Christopher, the children’s father a bath, when he had returned home from the hospital, shitting in his pants and was just too weak to wash himself.

Delivering food, proving wages for a young girl who seems to be losing her way more and more in life, were not the only assistants, Mr. Marshall were extending to this family. Because, presently, Ella’s two youngest siblings, Dion and Devon were in his wife care, even though, temporarily. Since, she desperately wanted to work and put some funds together for the schooling of her two young children.

Somehow, anticipating that while she was at the crushing company working, they would be in school learning their ABC and on her way home from work, she would then collected them from the school and bring them home for the evening.

Ella plans were to bathe then, feed them, put them to bed and then run off to take in, some evening classes, at one of the learning institution around town. Therefore, she could easily catch-up on whatever she was missing out on, at her regular educational lessons in her high school.

The teenager seems to have all her plans wrapped up in her brain, but entering through the doors of a jail house or prison, wasn’t one of them, whether she was guilty of the crime or not!

However, with Ella crippling with pain, and her father nursing a freshly jiggered wound to his left ear. Mr. Marshall knew, he had to step up to the plate and make sure, all funeral arrangements for Nella Bradshaw were in proper order.

Resting Ella on the top of her mother’s bed, Mr. Marshall asked her if she wanted him to fix her something to eat, but she admitted to him that she had eaten already. But, if he could kindly assist her father with something to eat from the pot on the stove, and then place the pot inside of the refrigerator, she would gladly appreciate it. A task, he was quick to comply with. He even went about washing all the dishes in the sink, soon after Mr. Bradshaw was done with eating his meal.

He just didn’t have the guts to turn his back on this dysfunctional household just yet; consumed with – eaten up with much cruelty, unconscionable and uncaring ideology or practices. Although, the half has not been told. Since he was quite clueless of the depths and of most of the evil which had occurred in this small family. Which, included the murder of a police officer.

Nonetheless, the day was now coming to an end, and the brightness of the sun gradually begun dimming its light on the surface of the earth. And Mr. Marshall knew, it was about time for him to exit off the Bradshaw’s massive and lush property and go see about his own precious family, now. Although, such were presently including two members of the Bradshaw’s household as well. And before heading back through the front door of the Bradshaw’s house. Mr. Marshall advised Ella to stay home from work and rest in bed; and he would stop by in the morning with breakfast for both her and her father.

Under a deep cracking and mumbling voice, Ella uttered;

“Thank you, Boss-man!”

Soon thereafter, Ella rippling with pain all over her body, dragged herself into her father’s room, seeking for some of those strong pain pills which he had brought home from the hospital weeks aback. And her father had given to her on the night when Corporal Banks had severely beaten her with his button.

Her father’s bedroom was dark, but there was a shimmering of light reflecting from the moon, coming inside the bedroom by way of the glass windows of the house. Easily, allowing her father to recognize that she was the one fumbling around on the large piece of furniture where the pills were being kept.

There were only around eight pills left in the bottle and Ella poured half of it into her hands, covered back the bottle on was on her way back to her room. But suddenly, she felt a pair of hands upon her shoulders and quickly turned around to be up close… face-to-face with her father.

His touch on her was gently for the first time in her life, and not like the harsh and violent interactions they both had had in the past. But Ella right away presumed that his touch was going to meant more than a fatherly contact; so she immediately screamed at him; “Take your fucking hands off of me!”

But, he was hesitant in doing so instantly.

Instead, he went on explaining to her whatever his feelings were about her and their relationship as father and daughter. Telling her, she was practically a grown up now and she could start making any decisions she wanted to around the house, yet still, while stroking at her shoulders.

Her intuition, however, was telling her otherwise.

“What the fuck are you trying to do, come onto me?”

Ella shouted asking.

And before her father could open his mouth to answer her, she gave him a hard slap on the side of the face, the same location where her brother had bitten off his earlobe couple hours ago.

Her father’s hand clutching to his ear trying to control the pain, Ella angrily pushed him down on the bed and infuriatingly marched out of the room and into the kitchen. And there, she got herself a cup of water from the pipe, took the pills in her hands and went back to her own bedroom where still enraged and tick-off, she slammed the door behind her before jumping into bed.

Moments later, the pills began working in her system and seconds later, Ell was fast asleep.

It wasn’t a sleep of sweet dreams, but it was a sleep nonetheless.

A sleep which somehow had made her completely forget about the bodily pain that were occurring in her body. But on the other hand, her moment of rest had her subconscious mind totally reeving havoc about all the cruel acts she had partake in singlehandedly and also with her father. Such as the policeman, she had helped her father disposed of his body, the new-life, she had aborted less than a day ago, the brother whom she had wrongfully sent off to prison. And worst of all, the mother whom she had killed.

Strangely, the nightmares kept on rolling out, one after the other in her nightly visions. And the most frightening one of all, was seeing the boy whom she had aborted, growing up into a tall handsome man, dressed in police uniform just like his father, and was gently aiding her with food in her old age.

And that was the profound picture in Ella’s head which had jolted her back to reality somewhere after eight o’clock, Monday morning; when Mr. Marshall came parking his truck in the graveled front yard and began tooting the horn of his truck.

“Ella!”

Mr. Marshall shouted repeatedly.

Ella had heard him, but she just couldn’t respond to his calling right away. Because, these pictures from her dreams were still pretty much in her head, in her being, had taken over her entire being, allowing her not to respond at once and overpowering her with complete silence and reflection.

But, she could overhear her father hasting towards the front door and anxiously answering to the calls of the Good Samaritan.

“Good morning! Good morning! Good morning, Mr. Marshall!”

Christopher Bradshaw said.

“Good Morning!”

Johnny-on-the-spot responded.

“Ella took some of my pain pills last night before going to bed, so I guess, they have severely knocked her out!”

Christopher went on to say.

“Well, here is breakfast and possibly lunch!”

Mr. Marshall said while resting the basket of food on the veranda chair.

“I am going to open the gates now for the workers, get the men who will be digging the grave for your wife’s burial, to start on with the project, confirm and finalize the date with the hospital morgue for Wednesday, find a coffin for your wife, and get some Tylenol at the pharmacy for Ella and then, I’ll be back here!”

Continued to express, the humanitarian.

Announcing those intentions, Mr. Marshall waved goodbye to Christopher Bradshaw, hopped into his truck and soon was back onto the main street and then was out of sight.

Ella, still in her room, peeping through the windows, watching her boss reversing his truck out of the yard, and who had overheard everything that had been said, immediately came to front porch as soon as the truck was off the property. Even though, the pain she had been feeling started reoccurring, her bruises were badly aching and blood was dripping from between her legs, Ella reached for the basket, took most of the parcels of food from it and in a nonchalant attitude, she pushed the partially empty basket towards her father and rudely announce before reentering her bedroom…

“You can fucking have the rest of it!”

But her father cared not to utter a word to her. Because, he knew arguing with her now would be dangerous for the both of them. Especially, since he had been recovering from two separate sets of injuries and she was keeping a very big secret which would totally destroy his life by assigning him to the gas chamber.

Therefore, the minimal amount of food now left in the basket, he brought it to his room, and just after cleansing himself for the day, Christopher, sat down on the side of his bed and began devouring the warm cornbread along with his medication. Meanwhile, Ella, realizing what a mess she had made, quickly began scraping up all the sheets from off the bed, stripping out of her garments and start making her way to the standpipe.

She was trying to be brave but the sight of the blood on the floor on all over the sheets had put her in a frantic mood. It reminded her of what had just happen with the corporal couple nights ago. And with just a floral sheet draping her body; covering her from the chest to below the knees, she began mopping away whatever blood were splattered onto the floors. And minutes after finishing up with the floors, she began dousing Clorox Bleach on the soiled sheets trying to get out the bloody stains imbedded within their fibers.

The weight – the burden was a tremendous one to carry, and as Ella scrub and scrub at the bloody sheets, the tears began flowing from her eyes and streaming down her face as utterances that only the divine could answer to, started flowing from her lips.

“Is this the life I was born to live; to kill or be killed, or spend my youthful days behind the bars of a jail?”

One thing was for certain, she didn’t want Mr. Marshall or anyone else for that matter, entering the yard and seeing her in a condition like this; washing out bloody clothing and bloody linens. Especially, since her and all occupants in her household were deemed suspects pertaining to Corporal Banks sudden and strange disappearance.

Therefore, she hastily wash the laundry, and anything that looked like it had red, the color of blood in it, she quickly threw the water from it down the drain, and then hurryingly threw bleach and soap onto it. Forty-five minutes or there about, the teenager was done doing all the bloody laundry and felt she was out of harms-way. Particularly, when it came down to inquisitive neighbors, dropping by her house and witnessing her washing out some bloody clothing and then bring such information back to the police.

Her heart was beating in her chest like a hammer in the hands of a carpenter as she spread the last piece of laundry onto the clothing line. And soon, Ella was rushing towards the bathroom at the back of the house to have herself a complete shower… scrubbing from head to toe.

Feeling satisfied about cleansing her skin, Ella, once again drape herself from chest down with the same sheet she had on, before entering under the shower. She then returned to her room where she immediately had gotten herself dressed for the day. Securely, girting her underwear with enough sanitary pads just like a donkey; which would likely save her from any embarrassment throughout the day and possibly trouble, like she experienced this morning.

But, something sinister – very disturbing was eating at Ella’s soul mind and spirit, which came from the dreams she had throughout the night. A dream of giving birth to her son, watching him grow up into a man and then he was able to care for her in her time of old age. Reflecting on it over and over again had dampened her mood, and now she was wondering if, she had made the wrong decision of terminating the corporal seed growing inside of her.

Riddled with guilt, tears began streaming down her face once again, and all the food she had so greedily taken from the basket that her boss had brought for both her and her father meant very little to her now. Neither were the pain pills in her hands, she was now ready to take for minimizing the physical pain she was feeling all over her body, couldn’t remedy or aid whatever she was presently feeling in her soul.

Across the gigantic bed, Ella stretch out weeping bitterly, for hours, until there was another tooting of a horn and a familiar voice kept on calling out her name.

Wiping away her tears and cleaning up her face, Ella peered into the mirror, searching for any evidence of her emotion showing on her face. Upon feeling satisfied with her appearance, she swung opened the bedroom door, stepped out to the veranda and happily greeted Mr. Marshall, with a smile.

Sadly looking upon the young girl, Mr. Marshall sympathetically ask; “Are you feeling a little bit better now?”

Holding back tears, Ella shook her head, indicating to him that she wasn’t feeling any better yet.

Suddenly, a loud puff of breeze blew violently in the air, causing the laundry drying on the clothing line to raise up in the air like a kite at very high altitude and kept on dancing about in the atmosphere betwixt the roaring winds.

An act which instantly brought the attention to Mr. Marshall of the clothing on the line.

Annoyingly he turned to Ella and ask;

“Ella, how can you possibly feel any better, if you got out of bed and do all this washing… didn’t I tell you, to stay in bed and rest for the day?”

Not expecting any response from her, Mr. Marshall handed her the bag of pain pills he had bought for her. But pills weren’t the only thing inside of the bag, there were a variety of snacks inside of it as well.

Looking up at him with a stiff face, Ella sternly spokes.

“Thank you, Mr. Marshall!” She said; “Not only for this here in the bag. But, for everything you have done and have been doing for me, Dion and Devon as well… I sincerely, thank you, very much, sir!”

But her voice of appreciations were only retorted with comments of her to get well soon, so she could return to work.

Bowing her head in reference to the Good Samaritan, she once again thank him; for what some people would say, his actions has long gone past generosity. With that bow of sincere appreciation, Ella returned to her room, leaving her father and Mr. Marshall to catch-up on how well the day had gone for him. And from what she had overheard from her bedroom, her boss explaining to her father, there was definitely going to be a church funeral for her mother on Wednesday afternoon.

Since, he had solely gotten the men to start digging at the gravesite where, Father Frank had given his permission for the grave digging to be done at the back of the churchyard. He had found a reasonable price coffin for placing the dead woman’s body into, finalize most of his dealings with the manager at the hospital morgue, and also, gotten from him the forms for the death certificates. And just like Ella, her father could be heard, pouring out from his heart, much gratitude and appreciation to the wonderful Mr. Do-gooder, who had rescued them from much embarrassment.

Although, there were going to be some funds which Mr. Bradshaw had to reimburse Mr. Marshall for, such as the coffin and the forms for the death certificate. But his time, commitment to this task and agility in this matter were just priceless. And though a man of many evils, Christopher Bradshaw, bow his head at the feet of the man who had been a friend to him, caregiver to him, and actually helped restored some form of dignity in his life once again.

However, was there some hidden motives behind Mr. Marshall’s continuous generosity towards this family?

Unlike previous days, Mr. Marshall wanted to leave the Bradshaw’s premises quite early this day. Because, he wanted to return to the location of his company, check his invoices, lock the gates, and then rush home to his house for dinner. And so, he did; after telling Ella and her father, he would be checking-in on them on the following morning.

Bidding farewell to the Good Samaritan, in their lives, Ella returned to her bedroom, while her father, went to the kitchen to warm some of the food she had cooked for them on Sunday. And sitting on the side of the bed in her room, it was the first time that Ella had found strength, to put any of the food to her mouth, which Mr. Marshall had brought for them earlier on that morning.

She could tell she was feeling much better now… stronger in the body. As her physical being felt stronger, though, her mental state of mind started regaining the thoughts of wickedness and cruelty. Her rationalities – her reasoning was now with the dead woman at the morgue; her own mother. And loudly, she began declaring that she was not going to attend her mother’s unreal; the same woman whom she had brought to an early death.

“It’s a long fucking time, you should have been dead, you slithering slimy serpent of the goddamn devil! And if, there is any such thing as a resurrection, I hope, I have the mother fucking power to see you dead once again or burn into hell! And not only just you! But also this wasp-head dog of a man, you call your husband!”

Ella raved and ranted.

Christopher, hearing his daughter’s loud rantings and violent utterances, felt his time was near.

There were no escaping from this one.

“Sooner or later, this girl Ella, is going to finish me off for sure!”

He thought to himself.

In that moment of fear and panic, Christopher replace the food into the fridge, which he had no intention of eating. And whatever he had dished out into his bowl, he brought it to the bedroom and then locked the door behind him. Even though, he already presumed, doing such, was going to bring on more trouble for him. Because, if Ella wanted to use the bathroom, she would have to walk through his bedroom to get there, and finding the door lock, would only ignite more fire to the blaze. But, it was a risk he was totally willing to take on for the rest of the night, or until, the break of day when the lifesaver, Mr. Marshall showed up there.

Would Ella state of mental insanity get the best of her?

It seems like an ongoing and everlasting moment before the tirades and continuous gushing out of colorful vocabularies from Ella’s mouth, finally stopped.

There was now a stillness in the air, and though, it was still early in the evening, just after 7:00 p.m., and every sounding creature on the outdoors could be heard. And this was the moment Christopher feared for his life.

He was expecting for Ella to come pounding on the door just about now, trying to get to the bathroom and finding it locked. He was determined to fight for his life or, even run and hide to safe it, if he had to. Firmly, he position himself behind the door with the piece of board used to balance off the foot of the bed; just in case, she had broken it down and came at him with full force.

Blow!!!

Came the thunderous sound from the front door.

Then, there was nothing but pure silence.

Few seconds later, scuffling sounds could be heard in the kitchen.

The light from the refrigerator reflecting under the door frame, told her father, she was inside the refrigerator trying to get something from it.

Its door gentle closed, giving off a soft sound, and then there was another moment of quietness covering the entire house.

Sweating like a bull in heat, Christopher remain behind the door firmly griping in hand, at his tow-by-four plank. Ready for a serious showdown. But instead, the only unnerving forces which came upon him to attack were those panic attacks felt inside his vibrating chest.

Because upon seeing the door leading to the bathroom tightly close, Ella decided to go pissing on the gravels in the front yard, behind the heavy shrubs, before closing the front door behind her. Her glass of water and Tylenol down her stomach, she went off sleeping straight until daybreak.

This time around, however, the honking noise from Mr. Marshall’s truck didn’t have to wake her because, she had gotten out of bed before the sun came shining forth, took a wash at the standpipe and got herself dress for the day. When he had arrived there, Tuesday morning, she was already seated on the veranda waiting to see him. A joyful feeling she was thankful for, since there weren’t any tons of bloody sheets that needed washing or any splattering of blood on the floors which needed to be mopped away before the eyes of any unexpected strangers had behold it.

It was just couple minutes before eight o’clock before Mr. Marshall had shown up in the yard and happily exited his truck.

“You have thorns in your bed, Ella?”

Mr. Marshall said with a chuckle of laughter.

“Why are you already out of bed this hour of the morning, didn’t I tell you to rest so could heal from those bruises those officers placed on your skin?”

He continued, still with a smile on his face.

But in his mind he was only thinking, how strong and courageous she had been throughout the terrible ordeal.

“No thorns are in the bed right now!” Ella said with a playful giggle; “I just felt like taking in the morning air, and sit here hoping for the morning angels to favor me today!”

“Good morning!”

Mr. Marshall then voiced.

Good morning, Mr. Marshall!”

Ella replied.

“Where is your father?”

Mr. Marshall the asked.

“I guess, he is still in bed… don’t know if he is still sleeping though!”

Ella answered.

Mr. Marshall pushed open the front door, stepped straight into the living room, into the kitchen and then face the locked door in front of him. Soon, he began pounding on the wooden door he was face-to-face with and calling out for Christopher to open the door.

Barely cracking the bedroom door open, Mr. Bradshaw asked with gazing eyes dancing back and forth;

“Where is, Ella?”

“She is seated on the veranda.”

Mr. Marshall responded.

“I’ll be out shortly!”

Mr. Bradshaw then stated.

“Is something wrong between you two?”

Mr. Marshall inquired; getting a sense of contention was brewing between the two relations. Because, he had never visited the home and seen Christopher’s bedroom door locked before, or, Ella up and out this hour of the morning.

But for Ella’s father, such a topic was not open for any form of discussions with anyone. Fearing, that his own daughter would not only fling him under a moving train, but also hold the noose to the rope, heisting him high on the gallows and burying seven feet under when she was done. And even though filled with fear, of what might become soon, his reality, Christopher nonchalantly shook his head and his hands indicating that nothing wrong was taking place between him and his teenage daughter, Ella.

Thirty minutes later, nervous out of his wits, Christopher left out of his bedroom and joined Mr. Marshall and Ella on the veranda. Where, a basket of cooked meals were there waiting to be devoured.

Hoping to regain some sort of peaceful vibes in the atmosphere and between them, Christopher with a masked face happily said;

“Good morning, Ella!”

Knowing, her boss was sitting right there, and the only person in the world who she could count on and knew would step in and help her if she need it. Ella looked up at her father’s face with demise boiling in her heart and a pleasant smile on her face, and joyfully said; “Good morning, Dada! How was your night?”

“I honestly would consider it a fairly good night, due to the fact that I didn’t even know, when I had fallen asleep, and didn’t budge until few minutes ago when Mr. Marshall came calling!”

Ella’s father responded.

Turning his head towards Mr. Marshall, Christopher passionately thanked him for gracing them with breakfast once again, and what he had also considered lunch as well, on another day.

“Don’t mention it… the both of you have been badly bruised and badly beaten; and it’s only good food, rest and those pain pills that will bring you back into tip-top-shape! Thank the gods, I’m in the position to offer you such a help, without breaking my back or my bank account!”

Mr. Marshall answered with a warm outburst of laughter.

But, there were more serious things that needed to be discussed. And in the flare of seriousness, Mr. Bradshaw told Christopher that he was going to run by his company, open the gates for his workers and he would be right back. Because, he wanted to take him for a spin in the town; so he could go chose a wreath for his wife’s funeral the following day.

Upon hearing this sudden announcement, Ella immediately, with an outburst, began acting annoyed and complaining that she was feeling terribly ill. An illness which suddenly came about whenever anything about her mother was being mentioned.

But, the fact that she had singlehandedly beaten her mother back to her creator, it was her guilt which was riding her, like a goddamn subway train that she just couldn’t contend with. Hasting to her bedroom, leaving on the chair, even the enticing basket of food which Mr. Marshall had brought to them, she closed the door to her room and jumped onto the bed. There, she remained, one minute crying and next minute reflecting on what could have been, if her mother was still here – alive.

The good, the bad and also the ugly was being considered, and Ella strongly concluded that the presences of her mother would have made things even worse in the home and the family. Because, she was the main one who had given her father strength to do some of the shitty things he had been doing to his own children throughout the years, like disfiguring them… severely scaring them mentally, emotionally and physically. And when she was unable to put on the scars, for one reason or the other, she would be the one running to her common-law- husband, Christopher. Complaining to him, so as to have him perform the disciplinarian rituals on their asses; knowing how detrimental such acts would ending up being on the children’s body.

Hyacinth, whom their mother had burned in the center of her back with the thick hot cast iron from the cold-stove, had left out of the violent family house and moved to the city for months now without sending back word, if she was okay or not.

Lilian had been strangled by her own father, until her entire face became dark purple. And because of the continuous abuse by the hands of those parents who were supposed to cherish her, and she was expecting for them to love her and show her the way in life. Decided on checking-out of the family and also out of life itself. Because of what, Christopher, her father had done to her, and not having a supportive mother whom she supposedly felt, didn’t have strength, wisdom or the guts to stand-up for her and grant her any form of protection from this man she was calling her husband.

But this reckless act of committing suicide wasn’t Ella’s pathway to take on… she was fighting like a bull, fighting for herself in one instance and fighting for little Dion and Devon in the other.

Nonetheless, Mr. Marshall left for opening the gates to his business in order to allow his workers access to the premises of his company when they had arrived at work that morning. While, Christopher started eating some of the food Mr. Marshall had brought to them that morning and also started getting himself dress for a ride into town with his new best friend.

Ella, still laying cross-ways the bed reflecting on the journey that their life had taken, had now strongly committed to the fact that she was not attending the funeral of her mother. All she wanted now was for her to be buried six or seven foot under the ground and that her name not to be mentioned anymore. Although, she knew, people were going to start talking if she didn’t attend this important day when her mother was going to be sent off to meet her creator.

But what was the compelling factor keeping Ella Bradshaw from attending the send-off party of her own mother; was it her guilt eating at her soul, feeling ashamed of this brutal crime she had secretly committed, or was it just fear?

Fearful that she might just open her mouth and say the wrong thing to someone or to the grieving congregation?

The roaring sound from Mr. Marshall’s truck engine told her that he was back from the crushing company, and his presences in the yard once again, took her mind from her thoughts. And now, she had her ear attentively cock, expecting to hear the Good Samaritan call out her name; but he didn’t.

Instead, she overheard him asking her father if, he was quite ready to take that trip into town with him for the wreaths.

“Let me have a little bit of water to drink before I go!”

She could overheard her father saying to Mr. Marshall.

Five minutes or so later, the heated engine to the red truck could be heard repeatedly revving in the front yard, a pressing of heavy tires against the graveled earth, and then, there were nothing else, but silence.

“Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!!!!”

Came to loud outburst of laughter, from Ella’s mouth, as she made her way up from off the bed and walked into the living room. Luckily, no one else was around or was visiting by the Bradshaw’s house, or else, they would have certainly conclude that this young girl is getting staunching crazy.

The sun was quite warm, even though, the time was getting closer and closer to the cooler months at the end of the year. But the wind was blowing heavily, compensating for some of those warm and bright sunrays coming down from the heavens.

And the more Ella walked around the house, was the more she kept on giving out these outburst of laughter all by herself.

It was only after her fifth echoing eruptions of laughter, that she settle herself… pulled herself together and spoke what was actually on her mind.

“While you’re out there buying wreath for your goddamn wife, you better make sure, you buy for your damn self as well!, Because, you’ll soon be off to join her, one way or the other and by the grace of god that dwells within me; you going on to join her!”

Ella spoke with a vexing face while giving off a grunting sound at the end of her words.

She just couldn’t shake the evils of the past, even with a sibling and one parent gone!

“Dion and Devon must occupy this room and you must get your fucking self out of her! Out! Out! Out!”

Ella continued declaring with an escalating voice.

Unbreakable from her state of insanity, the darkest dust of Tuesday evening gradually came forth, with a call and charge for revenge, cluttering all around Ella’s mind and heart.