The Empty Mirror
Chapter 47: Bafranbu
"What does this mean, Dougal?" - inquired Esme firmly.
"Nothing, she knows nothing, she didn't even have knowledge of Bafranbu. Of course, she doesn't know me or anything about me” - murmured Dougal with a tremor in his voice.
"Don't deceive me, Dougal, tell me what she meant” - Esme insisted again with determination.
"Hey, why don't we have some more liquor and set aside the delusions of that insipid one?" - proclaimed Dougal enthusiastically, approaching to take a good swig of liquor.
"That's enough, Dougal, what are you hiding from us, you damn trickster?" - asked Hilda, sentencing the conversation.
"I've told you I don't know anything, I have nothing to do with that scoundrel's deserved fate!" - shouted Dougal desperately.
"That scoundrel? Are you talking about my father? Then you're the scoundrel, you idiot” - muttered Esme, furious.
"That's right, and what's it to you, bitch? He was just a wretch who didn't deserve your mother. She was too much of a woman for such an insignificant man” - proclaimed Dougal, consumed by jealousy.
"Enough already, Dougal! Cease your insipid prattle that has no place here” - snapped Hilda, her anger barely contained.
"Doesn't it concern me? Should I stand idly by while his wife succumbed to the vile trade of her body due to that cretin's impotence? He only reaped what he sowed” - declared Dougal, diverted and beside himself.
"You have no idea of the suffering my father endured!" - reproached Esme.
"Do you think that's suffering? Naive! I spent years, a whole lifetime, wandering like an ownerless dog. He was simply a fool who settled for vain intentions, and he didn't cease in his impotence until he dragged his women into disgrace with him” - muttered Dougal between labored breaths.
"My father fought valiantly to pay off his debts, while you, if you suffered misfortunes at all, were nothing more than a beggar your entire existence, and you will continue to be a vagabond!" - shouted Esme, inflamed with fury.
"Damn bitch! Your father deserved nothing but death! That wretched scoundrel! How did you expect me to rejoice watching him delight in my wife, Hilda? If I loved her so much, yes, your mother was my first love, my refuge in my misery, and you are nothing more than a fool who came after her, like a second love that never compared. She should have been mine, so I took her by force, only then would I settle my debt. But first, I had to eliminate that despicable cretin” - declared Dougal, blinded by alcohol and a whirlwind of emotions, like a stormy sea.
Esme was petrified upon realizing that her mother had been a victim of Dougal's abuse, but then she accepted her complicity, seeing it as a way to repay the debt to her son-in-law. However, what left both women with pounding hearts in their chests were Dougal's final words.
"W-What are you implying, Dougal? What did you do to my husband?" - murmured Hilda, her voice faltering and trembling.
At that moment, Dougal realized his mistake and understood that there was no refuge left to flee to; there was no escape in his own web of lies, not even strength would be able to appease his women. After a long swig from the bottle, he revealed, with a clouded gaze and thoughts engulfed in a tumult of emotions: "It was me, Hilda. I ended your husband's life. I put an end to your father's life, Esme. It wasn't the mafia," proclaimed Dougal.
Upon the revelation, Hilda and Esme fell to the ground, embraced, crying the truth, negative whispers escaping between tears and desperation. Teeth clashed in a crunch of fury and contempt. Dougal then understood that everything was crumbling under the weight of his own falsehood and wickedness, his desire and possession over both women. For the truth was that he loved them both and longed to be with them, but under the veil of deceit he had immersed himself in, that possibility faded away. Even if he forced and coerced them, there would come a time when the hatred of those two women would consume him. He had no choice but to tell the truth and take one last sip of liquor, amidst the sobs of his women. He approached the fireplace and gave the liquor a kiss of putrefaction.
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"The mafia was nothing but a sham; they didn't kill him, I did. I ended your father's life, Esme, to transition from being your fiancé to being your lover and stepfather, because that's what I desired. Your father did owe a debt to the mafia, to whom he begged for money to remedy his financial woes. The debt kept growing relentlessly, and your father felt cornered. He sought refuge in taverns to drown his sorrows. All of that was true. As for me, I envied the woman I had, Hilda. Then, as if fate had ordained it, I found a discarded weapon in an alley. Perhaps it had been lost by a thief or discarded to avoid detection by the police, with the intention of retrieving it later. But I was the first to come across it. I took it and hid it. My nerves were on edge, and I didn't know what to do. I didn't know if anyone had seen me. I thought about selling it, but then I remembered your mother, Hilda, and passion overwhelmed me. I devised a plan: I would take both of them with me, both as my lovers, and I would snatch them from that fool's hands.
Then, on one occasion, when your father went out drinking at one of the taverns in Bafranbu, I found him. As if fate had placed him before me, I found him in one of the alleys as he was heading to the tavern, and I wandered after leaving the church. At first, he didn't recognize me. Then he realized I was his daughter's fiancé. My nerves were increasing. He thought I was there to dissuade him from drinking and persuade him to put his faith in God, as I had done on other occasions as a good Samaritan. But I didn't. Nerves overwhelmed me more and more, my forehead beaded with sweat. I had a clear path, a weapon, and a believable story. I slid the gun under my shirt, aimed at his chest. I was terrified, he pleaded with me, he knelt down and started crying. I'm sorry, but your wife is mine now, your daughter too, and I fired into his chest with a burst of bullets. I startled for a moment and began running desperately. I hid the weapon. No one found his body until later, despite the darkness of the night and the dull sound of the shots. I took refuge in the Plague church” - recounted Dougal to Esme as he resigned himself to losing his women.
Esme rose furiously and lunged towards Dougal with my knife in hand, ready to finish him off, but he noticed in time and restrained her hands, snatching the knife away with a swift strike. The dagger fell within my reach, ready for me to take. Amidst the chaos, I began to untie my restraints with determination and firmness, freeing myself from the knots with full knowledge but without experience.
Dougal dealt some blows to Esme and slapped her, leaving her prostrate on the ground, crying from physical and emotional pain. Hilda, her mother, approached to console her amidst tears and lamentations, seeming once again like mother and daughter, no longer comrades in a heinous complicity. Dougal understood that they could not be his any longer, as sooner or later they would betray him and end him. Despite my misfortune, I eagerly awaited the opportunity to incapacitate Dougal and escape with them, wishing to save and protect them despite how they had treated me and what they planned to do with me. Meanwhile, I mourned Dougal's soul, knowing that justice would eventually take care of him.
Esme and Hilda lay trembling on the ground, unable to rise and confront the man out of fear. Dougal, diverted and absorbed by loss, rocked the bottle of liquor in his hand. Esme, staggering, snatched the bottle from him and took a swig, followed by her mother. Both sought solace in the liquor, drowning their sorrows. Then, Esme, furious and trying to vent her frustration, approached me and grabbed me by the hair with brutality, almost tearing it out, forcing me to drink from the liquor as if she were trying to involve me in her loss and terror. She mistreated me as I fought against the alcohol-induced nausea.
Dougal continued recounting his crime, like someone who has lost everything, also losing his women. It seemed as if he had the task of narrating his failure as the protector of Esme and Hilda to conclude his destiny.
"When I finished off that despicable being, no one suspected anything. I was simply a devout churchgoer in a town as steeped in faith as Bafranbu, while he was just a drunkard indebted to the mafia. The police were aware of this, and the authorities chose not to intervene, thinking it was a lesson imparted by the mafia. So, after the funeral, and with doubts in my mind somewhat dispelled, I convinced you and your daughter that I had uncovered the truth about the murder. Of course, you knew nothing about it, and I only knew the rumours that I hadn't previously disclosed.
I lied to you, telling you that now the mafia would come after you to collect the debt and eliminate you. Of course, this was only a possibility, not very likely, but the chance still existed. So, I did it in my favour. I clandestinely took you with me, making you leave everything behind, your lives, and only taking the most essential. I didn't know where to take you, nor did I have money. Besides, I risked them discovering the truth. Then, I remembered this cabin from my grandmother, and amid blurry memories, I brought you here. I protected you because you are my women, I love you. And only when an opportunity arose, the stars aligned that propelled me to set my plans in motion. Plans that were thwarted due to all the commotion and the impossibility of finding a way to execute them. I only seized the chance, like a prisoner granted a moment of voluptuousness” - Dougal recounted to Hilda as he revelled in his crime, as if he wanted them to know every detail.
Hilda groaned in anguish, while Esme, collapsed on her knees beside me, covered her ears with tears to hear no more. Esme was determined to end Dougal. In a moment of pause in her crying, she spotted a wooden rod by the door, which we used for hunting and cooking the meat of animals. Surely, blinded by pain and burning fury in her heart, her tears would lead her to do whatever it took to eliminate her former lover and her father's murderer, while Dougal was distracted talking to Hilda.
Then, like lightning, she rushed to the door to grab the thick wooden rod. However, before reaching it, she heard her mother's moans and tears turn into the gasps of abominable pain and unbearable suffering. Hilda clutched her stomach in pain and heaviness as she crawled across the floor. She reached for the bottle of liquor near her and crashed it with a bang, shattering into shards of glass and liquor.
Though the liquid had a dark and deep tone, more black with warm hues, it appeared altered. Amidst the symptoms of her suffering, Hilda collapsed into a fit of vomiting, expelling a dark, almost black, viscous liquid with a nauseating odour reminiscent of putrefaction. It contained remnants of decomposed tissue and skin protrusions, adding a sense of horror to the act of vomiting. It was a monstrous sight as Dougal, stiffened, watched his beloved Hilda's body, that voluptuous body, decompose in agony beneath his feet, revealing in Hilda's hands a sharp knife that she would use to end Dougal at the opportune moment. Dougal mourned the loss of his protege and the disappearance, amidst retching, of such a succulent body of lubricity.
Esme was so alarmed that she completely forgot what she was doing or planning, and she rushed towards her mother to help her, desperately trying to rescue her. However, in the midst of her run, her legs wobbled and she fell to the ground, causing herself so much damage to her knees that it seemed she would never rise again. Amidst groans and moans, her mouth began to twist in retches, but the most terrifying of all was that her skin, her face, began to decompose.
Areas of darkened and discoloured skin manifested, resembling that of dry, wrinkled leather. The affected skin appeared tough and cold to the touch, exhibiting notable dehydration and lack of life. Around the affected areas, the tissue showed signs of inflammation and redness, highlighting the contrast between healthy skin and rotten skin. It was a visual reminder of the devastation in the human body.
Meanwhile, I, almost freed from the restraints, observed through the spaces between my fingers blackened tissue, akin to the flesh of a corpse, slowly extending and spreading by my hands. It was a terrifying sight of decay as death approached.