I wish to apologize in advance for using offensive language and content in my book. I am merely trying to emulate the speech pattern and culture of 1934. This was not made to offend anyone of other ethnic races. Please understand that I respect all races and people equally.
I clamber down the winding stairs screaming my host's name. I have to find him! I have to make sure he's okay!
"Which way's the dungeon?!" I order for an answer.
"That way!" the man behind me yells pointing. I can barely see his face under the glow of the candle, but I can see it alright. I storm off in the direction he pointed and find myself running into a heavy wodden door. "Sir! Are you in there? Sir!" I do my best to enter but the door is too heavy for me. "Help me damn it!"
The man behind me kicks at the door as I push on it with all my might. After the tenth or twevelth kick, the door swings open and I fall down the flight of three steps. I tuck and roll to my feet and keep running til I trip over something and land on my face. I quickly get up to see what I ran into. To my horror I find that my chest comes away sticky and smelling of blood. I taste it with the tip of my tongue. It is blood! I roll off and I see something white all around the body. The man comes in slowly and touches the candle with the torches around the room. As he slowly illuminates the room I see that it is our host... My girl's uncle...Robert O' Connor...
"It has begun..." The man behind me says coldly.
A cold shock streaks down my back and makes me feel like ice. I see his look of horror on his face and it even scares me. His absent eyes still have their color. They're unmoving and fixated on a single point. This is the most horrifying thing I've ever seen. The photographs of the Great War now look like something you would show your children as a part of a book. Or even the stories about Jack the Ripper or what Edward Teach did to his captives at sea. They all seem tame compared to this.
"Robbie?!" a female voice screams, "ROBBIE!!!" I see her scarlet hair streak across my face and hold onto the lifeless body of her uncle. She shed bitter tears as she wails at his loss. I can't help but cry with her. I wrap my hands around her body even though she tries to resist. I don't let go even though she begs for me to. I help her up and hug her tightly. Her nails grip into my back hard and she continues to wail. It hurts, but I don't stop her. She needs this.
Her sobs eventually calm down and her nails are now out of my back. Her masquara is now running down her face. It's a good thing that she's wearing a black dress. She looks up at me and I can tell she's not done yet. She needs me now more than ever. That accident on the ship may have tested her physically, this tests her emotionally. I was there for her in that accident. I need to be here for her now. She looks so vulnerable and pathetic. I know she needs me.
"Tony?"
"Yes?"
"I want to find whoever did this... And make them pay!" In her eyes is a tangled mess of anger, sorrow, pain, and hopelessness. She wants revenge. I know all too well why. All my life I've lived around revenge and anger. I've always been told it's "Business". It's hard for me to see that. But this isn't about me. It's about my girl here. She needs me. It seems like yesterday we were on top of the world. Now we're in Hell...
