Relief

I walked up the stairs, barely hearing the creaking of the boards below me as I moved. The candle flickered in my hand as the flame twitched in the gentle draft that flowed down the stairway. I shivered. I have to get that draft fixed. I thought to myself. Ignoring the cool air, I continued up the wooden stairs. It was late, almost midnight. I wondered if my wife would be angry.

That is when it started up. I heard the soft whispers caressing my ear, hissing words and phrases angrily, then somberly. I whirled, shouting at them in the sullen darkness. For a moment the quieted and I swiftly clapped a hand over my mouth. I paused on the stairs, listening for anything that would signify my cries had awoken my wife and child.

But only silence ensued as I relaxed. A word was whispered into my ear and I sighed- trying to ignore the hateful term as I continued to rise up the stairs. Yelling at them had never worked and there was no point in risking waking my family again. My continued assent was interrupted, however, at the top step. I looked down at my cat, a stubborn but loyal creature, lying on the wooden floor in an odd position. "Now, little Fernand," I said as I picked up his limp body. "That cannot be comfortable. I will place you on my son's bed, hm?" The dark mass of fur did not respond and I sighed once again. I laid the still body on my shoulder so that I could better carry the cat with one hand.

After I had done so though I felt a warm liquid press onto my shirt. It clung to me and after only a few seconds I felt it begin to drip down my back underneath my clothing. "Fernand!" I exclaimed softly as I held the large body against my shoulder. "Are you drooling on my? You know this is my favorite shirt!" He did not respond and I continued on my way up onto the second floor and towards my son's room at the end of the hallway. The voices followed me closely and I glanced over my shoulder. I saw nothing but the shadow of the night nipping at my heels, coming only as closely ads my candle's flame allowed. I decided on ignoring them once again as quickened my pace.

I finally reached my boy's bedroom door. Carefully, so as to not drop my candle or Fernand, I opened the thick door. It creaked softly by my entrance into the room was softer. I shut the door behind me and glanced towards where my son lad in his bed.

Smiling, I walked towards the small piece of furniture. Reaching the foot of the bed, I set down the stiff cat on the sheets. I pet his head softly before moving up towards the head of the bed, ignoring the new wet smudges on my fingertips. Holding the candle up I looked down at my boy, giving him a gentle smile. "Silly boy." I cooed softly. I lifted my free hand, pressing two of my fingers against the top part of his open eyelids. "You should be asleep." I lowered my hand, closing his eyes as I did so. I glanced over him and I noticed that he was in a similar shape as Fernand. "Why-you are drooling too!" I gasped, wiping my sleeve over the dark liquid around his mouth and neck. Feeling his neck give and open under the weight of my arm I pulled back and blinked. I will take him to the doctor tomorrow. He can't be getting sick on me this late into the year. I thought to myself as I watched a new wave of the dark liquid pour from the wide injury and wash over his pale skin.

Giving him a small pat on the head, I headed back towards the door. "Watch over him, okay little Fernand?" I whispered to my cat, leaving before the still creature could give me an answer.

I let the wooden door shut behind me and suddenly I was bombarded by harsh, hateful/sorrowful murmurings. I gasped and fell against the door, my hand barely able to hold onto my candle I was shaking so bad. I clenched my teeth and pressed a hand against my ear, trying to block out the loud then soft voices. After a minute they quieted, leaving me shivering on the floor. Trembling, gasping for air, I forced my legs under me and stood. My limbs almost gave out from under me as I moved across the hall towards my own bedroom. I grimaced as I thought of my wife with that scolding look on her face she always got when I stayed up late.

With a sigh, knowing she would be even more annoyed if I waited, I opened the door and stepped inside. Our room was much larger than my son's so I had to walk towards the large bed we slept in before I could actually begin to make out her shape on the soft mattress.

I winced a I looked down at her face, seeing the shock frozen on her features. "Sorry love." I said, frowning. "Did not mean to scare you. Next time I will be sure to go to bed earlier." I said, setting the lit candle down on the nightstand next to her. The gentle light washed over her and I gasped at what I saw. "Love!" I shouted, moving towards her chest. "I told you- you have to be careful with the knives." I gripped the handle of the sharp object and ripped it out of her, releasing a new wave of dark liquid from the deep wound. "You could have hurt yourself or our little boy!"

With a sigh I set the knife down next to the candle stick. I looked back to her, smiling as I caressed her face. "Sorry, didn't mean to yell." I bent down and blew out the candle. "I'll let you get to sleep then." Darkness had flooded the room, and with darkness came the voices. They seemed to come from everywhere at once. I almost bit my tongue off from the shock! I tried to block them out but it was no use. I stumbled under their invisible weight, almost falling onto the hard floor. Attempting to stand, I slipped forward. A sudden, rough sensation ran down my face until it settled around my neck. There was a sharp tug, the sound of something snapping in the distance, and a single word whispered in the darkness.
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"Oh God!" the young bobby gasped, covering his mouth so to cover up the sound of his gagging. The older man, also a bobby and much more experienced than the other, simply sighed. "W-what... what happened?" He asked, swallowing the bile that had risen.

"Murder, my boy." He said with a frown. "Murder... and suicide." He corrected, seeing the young man in the middle of the room. He hung by his neck from a rope tied to a board on the ceiling, blood spattered on his clothes-none of it his own. His feet swung in a gentle breeze a few inches above the floor. A single word written in the dark, coppery liquid-

Relief.