GO, DIE & COME BACK

CHAPTER 3: RED-HANDED

When she was conscious, she found herself in the living area with Sir Eric sitting by her side and police all around.

"Is that true?" she asked Eric, looking towards Bran.

"I'm afraid, yes. He confessed it. Moreover, he was caught red-handed." He paused, gulped and looked at her, who was waiting for his next words. "He was engrossed in drugs and betting. That's what he has been doing for the last two years." Lady Lynda closed her eyes, trying to convince her that it was just a bad dream, but when she opened them, the first thing she saw was Bran sitting with handcuffs. Tears rolled down her eyes.

Sir Raymond was with Matt in his room, trying to cut him out of the rest of the world. He was playing with him, talking about anything to him, telling him stories, and so on, only to keep him distracted.

"Police say he confessed that he was involved in a rabble for some betting purpose. He lost a big amount there and asked me for money. I declined, so he tried to steal from someone's home. When the owner caught him stealing, Bran killed him. When he did that murderous task, he ran from Ravelston. He continued doing the same in other places. He had also borrowed huge amounts from goons. Last night, he killed two members of the gang who were asking him for the money he owed. He was escaping from that place but landed in the police's hands." She was listening to everything with closed eyes, and when he finished, tears rolled down from the corners of her eyes. Sir Eric leaned forward and whispered, "Is it my fault that he turned out like this?" She shook at once and kept on weeping. She knew she was lying. 'Then who else is to blame for that?' She thought with her moist eyes, glaring at Eric.

"It's not true!" Bran interrupted. "They all are framing me. It's true that I was stealing but those people were mafias. Owning huge illegal properties, drugs, yachts, and cars with blood in their hands. This commissioner and force are puppets of those people. They are going to murder me in prison. Please believe me, dad." He turned towards Lynda with wet eyes.

She tried to speak for him to Eric, but he stopped her. "He still seems to be under the influence of drugs. I am never going to make the mistake of trusting him again." He turned to Bran. "Our lives are back to being healthy after you were away from us."

"Dad, please don't start this again." Bran begged him, but even in that pleading, there was a hint of anger.

Eric approached him straight in the face. His emotions were infuriated, and his words came out like a dagger to Bran's heart. "Start? I'm up to end it."

Bran was hushed. A policeman grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the house. It was time to take Bran back to the police station. When he was just about to get in the car, he started screaming, "Father! Please save me! I am really sorry. I'll never do it again. They are going to kill me. I am your older son. I'm going to handle your whole business. I came here thinking that you would rescue me. What are you doing? Please help me!"

Sir Eric looked at him for a while and walked towards him. "You are dead to me! Since you have turned into a demon, I have always wished that somehow I could abandon you, and now that time has come. You are no longer my son, nor are you going to be the heir to the place where I sit."

Bran could not believe what he had just heard. He looked at his mother and begged for mercy, "Mother! Please save me! Please try to understand me." She said nothing but kept staring at the ground. She was petrified that if she tried to save Bran at that time, in no time she would be undergoing her husband's sinister propriety. There was no sympathy at all in anyone's heart regarding him. One would be a fool if he granted that monster the freedom he wanted. Till then, Sir Raymond had also reached that site, and he left Matt sleeping in his room. Sir Eric exchanged looks with the cop holding Brandon and said, "Get him off my sight!" On hearing that Bran lunged at him furiously, he managed to get closer and let out a deadly scream to Sir Eric, "I'm going to kill you!"

The next moment, he was in the car and being taken away. Sir Eric stood there in shock and was trying to make himself believe that his own son said that to him.

That night, everything was very quiet. Even their Moco wasn't making any sort of noise. Matt didn't come out the whole day. The husband and wife said nothing to each other except 'good-night' before going to bed. The same atmosphere persisted in that house for a week. Matt did everything alone. Cycling, karate, baseball practice, and various activities. Sir Raymond never let him feel alone. He sometimes became a playful child to cheer his spirits. Sir Eric was very thankful to him for saving his son from creeping into depression during that terrible time.

Progressively, time healed everything. Sir Eric started spending more than half of his day with Matt. Their businesses were on track. Lady Lynda was also in restorative health.

*  *  *

One night, it rained furiously. Matt went to bed early that night. In fact, it had become his daily schedule to go to bed early. Sir Eric and Lady Lynda were in their respective bedrooms. A man, all in black, was standing in the living area. He made his way up the stairs to the first floor and walked quietly through the corridor. After stopping at his destination, he looked in all the directions for confirmation that no one was watching. When done, he turned the door knob slowly, trying to make no sound. He entered the room and closed the door behind him. It was terribly dark inside, but he made his way to the bed anyway. Staring blindly in the dark, he was drawn closer to it. The target was curled up on the bed, wearing an eye mask, and was sound asleep. Having stood there for moments, he lunged and gripped the target's neck and covered the mouth so that no scream could come out. He tried to strangle the figure, but was unable to do so. The target reached out their hands to the assassin's face and got a hold of his neck. The killer groaned in pain when the target started to dig their nails deep into his skin and began scratching his neck. He couldn't bear that excruciating pain. The killer removed his one hand from the target's neck promptly and discovered a knife in his back pocket. The target's eyes bulged out upon feeling the sharp edge of the knife pressed against his cheek. Without wasting minutes, the assassin stabbed the knife deep into the target's abdomen. The body jumped wildly on the bed and shrieked with excessive loudness and pain behind the killer's hand. The pain was excruciating as the figure was shaking vigorously like a fish laying on the ground, craving water. Even before the blood could ooze out from the gash, the killer stabbed again with the same force and at the same spot. The body jumped again, he stabbed again and again, and the body kept on jumping. After the sixth stab, the body lay immobile. The man removed his hand from the dead body's mouth and clenched his fists to squeeze out the blood from his gloves, which created a red puddle on the bedsheet. Lastly, he handed the knife into the corpse's hand. Without wasting a minute, he left the room.

He went back to the living area, where Sir Eric was pouring wine into his glass. Sir Eric was already there, dressed in his pajamas. The killer stood right behind him with bloody hands. Staring at him, who was drinking calmly, the man said, "Work is done. She is dead." Sir Eric took another gulp and nodded in approval.