My Dearest Josephine

8: Mr. Moon's Monday Morning

NOTE: Will make this longer, will edit it. I feel bad for not posting in centuries. I can never find the time (too stressed and too busy). Here's what I can offer for the time being. I'm very, very sorry again.
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Robert flopped around in bed, experiencing the first nightmare of many that were to follow. He tried to tell himself that he was only dreaming, but it felt too real.
*
A dim light barely lit the dark hallway in the Galding estate. He still remembered how he had silently waited, crouched in a corner, watching the door of the master bedroom patiently. His eyes were tired and his legs had already fallen asleep twice, but he pushed on. Robert could not allow himself to come up with excuses. If he gave the situation too much thought, the guilt wouldn't allow him to act.

"You must," he reminded himself. "Think of the money."

Finally, the door opened. Lady Galding quietly emerged from her room, trying not to wake her husband. She gently closed the door and walked to the window, her hand pressed against her forehead. With her back turned to him, Robert saw his opportunity. He slowly rose up and tiptoed behind her. He didn't have a plan in mind, but he wasn't worried. She was old. It would be easy. What Robert didn't expect was to hear Martha Galding crying. He knew that she suffered from insomnia, for the frequent migraines she experienced were painful enough to keep her up for entire nights. Although he had tried to dissociate himself from reality, it had failed. He thought of his own aging mother, who was extremely ill. It was her illness that fueled his motivation to obtain enough money to make sure she was properly taken care of. But Lady Galding was a mother too. Robert began having second thoughts. Perhaps his intentions weren't enough to justify murder.

It was then that the hardwood floor creaked under his foot. Lady Galding jumped and turned to face him.

"Robert?" she sniffled, quickly wiping her face. "What are you doing up here?"

"I," Robert could barely speak. His throat had gone dry. "I thought I heard a noise. I came to see what it was. Are you alright?"

"Quite alright," Martha lied. "Just a little headache."

A pang of guilt struck him. "Oh, I'm sorry," he frowned sincerely. "Those are terribly awful." He suddenly turned, telling himself he couldn't do it. The only way he would act was if Lady Galding herself called him back. He would take that as a sign.

"Oh, Robert. Wait," he heard her exhausted voice say.

"Please don't call me again," Robert prayed. He kept walking, pretending that he hadn't heard her, and hoping she would fall for it. He was going to disappear into the dark, and get a good night's sleep. There were other ways to acquire money, he assured himself. He didn't have to resort to such drastic measures.

"Robert," she whispered louder. Though it was soft, it was loud enough for him to have heard her without question.

Robert reluctantly paused and turned around to face her.

"Yes, Lady Galding?"

"I need to go downstairs. It's far too dark, though. Do you think you could help me?"

"Of course," he smiled, a response which came automatically instead of voluntarily. He approached her and offered Martha his arm. She held onto his arm tightly and slowly followed his lead.

He knew how her story would soon end; deep inside himself, he knew, but he didn't think much about it. Acting without thought was much easier. The sympathy he thought he had felt had vanished in an instant. All he could think about was his mother, who was struggling to hold onto her life. The woman who held onto him now was the reason he couldn't afford to care for his mother. Lady Galding lived a lavish life, the life of her dreams, with plenty of money to spare. Despite this, she continued to pay her staff little to nothing. Any day now, Robert feared he would get the news that his mother had passed away. And who would be to blame? None other than the woman who held onto him now, vulnerable and unsuspecting. Would she care? Would she go to his mother's funeral?

Robert and Martha approached the middle of the grand staircase. He slowly helped her down one step. Then the second. Then the third.

"Oh, God," he hissed, bending over in feigned pain. Lady Galding let go and placed her hand on his back.

"Are you alright, Robert?" she asked, her voice full of concern.

"Oh I'm-" he closed his eyes, gathering the strength to act. He reminded himself to do, not think.

At that moment, while Lady Galding hovered over him in worry, he grabbed a hold of her by the waist and pushed her in front of him with all of his might. He ran to the bathroom as her pain-filled screams echoed through the house, thinking it would be a perfect alibi. Still, he hadn't fully realized what he had done. He had murdered an innocent woman.

Robert opened the door of the bathroom and found Lady Galding standing in front of him, her neck snapped and her face covered in blood. He jumped and yelled for help. He tried to leave the bathroom but the door was shut behind him.

"I just killed you! You're dead!" he panicked, breaking out into a fearful sweat.

"You could have told me about your mother, Robert." Lady Galding's broken body took a step in his direction. Robert pressed his back against the door, with no escape, and cried out for help. With no one answering his cries, he cried out louder and louder, shaking uncontrollably. "I would have helped you."

"I'm sorry! I shouldn't have listened to him! Don't touch me!"

He shut his eyes, hoping she would go away. It was just a guilty conscience, he thought. Eventually, it would go away. Robert silently counted to three and opened his eyes. Lady Galding stood an inch away from his face, bloody tears falling from her wide, shocked eyes.

"You betrayed me, Robert."

Robert, still pressed against the door, yelled even louder now. He fell to his knees, sobbing pathetically.
*
"Robert!"

Robert shot up in bed, a convulsing, crying, screaming mess drenched in sweat. The butler's eyes grew in concern.

"It was just a nightmare, you know. It's morning now. You're alright."

Robert's heart was banging against his chest, and in a second, his pulse had jumped up to the base of his neck. He looked around the room, confused, and finally realized that it had just been a terrible nightmare.

"I'm sorry," Robert whispered, wiping the sweat away from his face. "You were right. It was just a bad dream."

"Well, come on now. It's Monday morning. You don't want to be in bed your first day on the job."

Robert nodded, a distant look in his eyes. If only he could convince himself that his conscience was truly clear...