Work Text:
Part 1
Sgt. Víctor Jones Romero’s Diary
Date: 20th December 1910 (morning)
I got an urgent call from my commander this morning to meet him immediately at his office. Although I found it to be troublesome to wake me up way too early, I changed my attire and left abruptly just like he requested. I had forgotten to tell my dearest wife, leaving her to sleep by herself. For that, I may need to explain myself later. I hurriedly squeezed inside the crowded tram, gripping a steel pole to keep myself balance. I sensed few eyes stared toward me with hostility and disdain. Rugged beards and unkempt hair are neither dashing nor charming according to today British's fashion standard, where hair should be slicked with gel and beards should be either clean-shaven or well-groomed. Constable Homer told me once that I would look attractive if I shaved my beard, but I refused. I have grown my beard since I become a sergeant and keep it groomed in this "ruggish" way ever since. To imagine myself with a clean-shaven face is odd for I believe it will be a horrifying sight. At the end of the day, fashion trend is meant to change as time passes, and the old ones will become outdated. It inhabits within society like any living thing, reaching the peak of its life and dies inevitably. What eternal within human is the blood that is inherited by their ancestors. Yet such a legacy is not cherished by all human beings, especially with what happened recently. In my case, I have Spanish blood from my madre's side. I must confess that I once felt ashamed of my inheritance, considering how society treated someone who is “different”. I have come to adapt to such treatment that I can ignore the disgust and offense from passersby. Though the judgemental eyes filled with prejudice should be a thing I should feel irritated about is nothing compared to what is in my mind now. It is an unforgettable memory that keeps lurking in my mind like a vengeful spirit. The sound of gunshots and screams of terror still ring in my ears and haunt me in my dreams everytime I close my eyes. The worst of all is a picture of “him” lying on the ground, motionless, covered in a pool of blood with eyes that could barely open. How long will this traumatic recollection keep tormenting me, tearing my soul and body apart until there is only a conscious void of emptiness? For that, I fear to know.
Once I reached police station, I knocked on the inspector’s office door. While I was adjusting my black coat and flat cap, I heard a weary, deep masculine voice from inside the room that gave me permission to come in. My hand twisted the knob, opening the oaken door. My eyes landed on a ginger hair, bulky, middle-aged man in a police uniform, who was sitting on a leather chair, calmly lighting a Cuban cigar which was given by a foreign tobacco trader. The inspector nodded his head, remaining strict, yet there was a hint of concern in his amber-green eyes. I realized instantly that this personal meeting would be bothersome and about the incident I wrote about earlier, which happened days ago. In normal circumstances, I would refrain from talking about this devastating event and tried not to think about it as someone who witnessed the horror of tragic demise and destruction. Although, it would be insolent of a lowly subordinate like me to disobey my commander.
“How do you do, inspector?” I tipped my flat cap, smirking cockily as usual. “I bet those prideful snobs have complaints about me again.”
Archie sighed and blew smoke out of his mouth before put a cigar down on the ashtray and cleared his throat. He pointed his finger at me disapprovingly, furrowing his thick arched eyebrows.
”Watch your mouth, boy. Dare not cause more trouble than has already happened. You know fully well enough that they wanted to find a reason to throw you away like an unwanted dog, and they have found one. I am convincing them to keep your arse here, Romero.”
Smoke from Archie’s Cuban cigar filled the room, and I could smell the pleasant woody and soothing floral scent. It had been a year or two since I last smoked one of his high-quality, imported tobacco. Smoking would temporarily relieved the stress and pain that was eating my brain alive, yet I already promised Clara to never smoke again, for she despised its strong smell, and I have never broken any vows or promises I made to anyone, especially my beloved angel, who was the only light in this gruesome and dark world.
”This is not what you wanted to talk about, innit?” I rubbed my eyes exhaustingly from the lack of sleep in these past few nights. “Normally, you would start by lecturing to me endlessly about my ‘disrespect’ toward higher-ups and my lack of manner. Yet, it is related to me personally, no? Bueno, sir. Say what you must. A lowly subordinate, as I, could never object to your order.”
“Your sarcasm is either to get on my nerves or you are using it as a defense mechanism, sergeant.” The inspector rubbed the bridge of his crooked nose and groaned wearily before continuing the conversation with a much softer voice. “You’re coping, and it does not work, does it? The bags under your eyes are enough proof and look at your body! Look at how sickly thin you are! Romero, do you even take care of yourself?”
The inspector always treated me like an anxious father. This poor miserable man lost his 8-years-old son, Archie Jr., from an unexpected accident, and he must have seen something in me that reminded him of his boy. As much as I appreciated his concern, I could not think straight and felt irritated with his concern toward me. I despise being seen as vulnerable. A rough childhood taught me that only the strongest will survive in society that is rotten to its core. Although the agony is slowly and terribly gnawing my mind, I shall not show my weakness to anyone. I laid my back comfortingly on the back of the wooden chair with my legs crossed and chuckled arrogantly.
”You’re overthinking, sir. I am doing fine. I just do not feel like eating recently. Clara said I looked chubby recently, so I am on a diet. I guess it is working now. The lack of sleep, you may ask? Oh, sir! I was busy patrolling the night street. You know how cautious a patroller must be during the night. Having only a baton and a blinking dim-lit lantern could not save me from an unexpected ambush, inspector.”
“You did not have a night shift last night, Romero. I am aware of how terrible your lies are. It is obvious, like how you tighten your grip on the arms of that chair or how your eyes are twitching. You know that I can see through your lies, sergeant. You have always been a terrible liar.”
I glanced at my left hand to see how my grip was firm and trembling and blinked my eyes to stop the twitch. I could feel the slight wetness of my palms from anxious sweat. To hell with it, he was right. I am a horrible liar. If he wanted the truth, then I shall reveal it. That would please him, wouldn’t it? Blast it! He would be the death of me. I hung my head defeatedly, loosened my grips and sighed exhaustedly. There was a deadly silence between us that only the sound of my breathing and mumbles belonged to people outside Archie’s office could be heard. Inspector offered a cigar even though he knew that I had quitted. “If she asked, tell her I gave you. Think of it as my order." I stared at his expensive cigar blankly, debating silently in my mind whether I should take it or not. A puff or two might cure my headache, but that would never be enough. Happiness is an incurable addiction. Once it consumes your body and soul, it will be impossible to stop. It would be three, four, or more puffs as we inhaled the scent of illusionary contentment. Happiness teaches mankind to be selfish and controls the weak-minded ones to seek more pleasure, such as love, fame, wealth, or domination. Happiness causes greed, one of the seven deadly sins, as it turns us into a mindless starving beast with a need to devour endlessly. A reason I stop smoking, as I have stated earlier, is not for me to stop seeking pleasure but to seek something more delightful. As a blind puppet controlled by the unseen curse called “greed”, I am – the more the better – and Clara is forever my only greatest happiness. My life is devoted to her truly, and I could never dare to break our vows.“I’m good, sir. Keep it.” I shook my hand to refuse his generous offer. “It is your preciously treasured gift. Keep it to yourself, for it belongs to you, my respected inspector.”
”Your devotion toward your spouse is admirable, Romero. She is blessed to have you as her husband. If you insist, then I shall not force you. Let us return to our discussion, shall we? First of all, someone filed a complaint against you and it is not the “prideful snobs”, as you called them.”
“Civilian?”
”Precisely. Made a phone call last night.”
“What’s the complaint about?”
”Unsatisfactory performance”
”I expect a warning from you, then?”
”Generally, yes but not this one”
The penalty must be more severe than just a mere warning. It might be related to the robbery days ago. Confrontations between law enforcers and criminals often end in violence. When there’s violence, destruction is bound to happen. No doubt it could be a shop owner who reported an issue to the commander. What I did not comprehend was the fact that the reason they chose to sue me personally. The authorities should have already provided compensation for the damage. I peered at an old man in front of me before covering my hand over my face and rubbing each of my temples with a thumb and a middle finger.
”One-week suspension”
”So it is not about damages? I was not sued?”
”What do you mean? Of course you are not!”
”Nevermind. However, you informally informed me without any paper, so that means I can still work.”
”This is a special case. This individual wants the penalty to be effective immediately.”
“A civilian who secretly loathes me and is extremely demanding”, I replied dryly. “What an intriguing fellow! Yet I assume you are not allowed to disclose their identity. What did I do? Kick their dog? Step on their feet?”
”To put it simply, she wants you to take a week’s break, and her reasoning is convincing because I too agree with her words.”
The fingers that rubbed my temples stopped instantly as I slowly raised my head with eyes widened, staring intently at Archie who blew a puff of smoke at my aghast face. They had been discussing behind my back all along. My cunning Clara kept convincing me to take some time off, yet as the dedicated, hard-working officer I am, I refused constantly. I was too blind to notice the possibility that she would commit such a devious action.
Mrs. Romero told me about how you distance yourself from her, locking yourself inside the study room. The smell of alcohol you drank was strong enough that she could smell it from outside the room, and you barely ate or slept. You are getting worse, Romero. Your performance will be ineffective if I let you work,” the Inspector scolded concerningly.
“I may be a mess, but I can continue my duty, inspector,” I protested with annoyance in my voice. The fact that he is my commander still did not mean he was the one to decide whether I was spiritually and physically ready or not. Only I can determine my state, and I despise when an unaware fool tells me so. This is my body and soul. If I desire to destroy it until there is nothing left but emptiness, then it shall be my decision, for I am my own.
“Are you underestimating me just because of the state I am currently? Where is the so-called “faith” you had in me, huh? So, the ‘I can see a potential within you’ thing was just a beautiful lie to convince me to work as a city’s obedient guard dog? Once I became vulnerable, you decided to discard me like an unwanted pup? Oh, but of course, I failed. I failed you and the authorities you have been licking their arses like a blind follower. I failed Clara, for I have abandoned her and selfishly drowned in sorrow while ignoring her well-being. I killed Homer! I murdered him, letting him die! It should have been me! Those scums should have shot me several times in the chest instead of him! He was going to have his first child, and now that unborn child has become fatherless, and poor Emily has become a widow! All because of my foolish decision! I went to his funeral, Archie. Her eyes were filled with fury that could burn me alive as she stared at me, who caused her husband’s death! To anyone, I am nothing but a failure, a defection that must be eliminated.” The furious yell silenced the man in front of me. After I burst out, there was an awkward, deadly silence between us. I sensed that people outside were able to hear my loud shouts, but I could not care less. My breath got heavier, and sweat covered my head, neck, and hands. I expected another set of long lectures from Archie, yet that never came. There was only a weary sigh from him.
” Only if you could see yourself the way I and your wife do, Víctor. I can only hope that soon enough you will open your eyes and see those who care for you. Humans are flawed, but flaws are what build who we are. However, it depends on how you will deal with them. You, my good friend, are a smart man. Either you learn or succumb to it; I am certain you know the right choice. Use this one week to prepare yourself, and after that, we shall discuss later the decision you have made for yourself. Consider what I have said, that is an order from your commander.”
I weakly nodded, unable to look straight into his face. This anxious old man has finally broken through my facade and witnessed the moment of fragility. I wish I could apologize for my nonsense outburst, yet I had no energy to do so. Nevertheless, I am grateful that Archie was enraged by my accidental disrespect toward him. I left defeatedly and went straight back home empty-minded.
Mierda! It is still too early to drink, innit? I should have taken him for that expensive Cuban cigar. The intolerable agony within me is burning inside like a hellfire from the abyss. Could this be the eternal divine punishment of a sinful mentor who was unable to save his only student?
Are you condemning me to this endless suffering, William?
Part 2
Daily [Redacted] Newspaper, 17th December 1910 (Partial)
Two Deaths from Attempted Robbery at [redacted] District
On 16th December 1910 around 2.30 pm., a civilian reported to law enforcers that a group of three immigrants was breaking inside a jewelry store whose owner was outside. Two unarmed metropolitan police officers consist of Sergeant Víctor Jones Romero and Constable William Homer arrived at the crime scene as the criminals started shooting with handguns, injuring Sgt. Romero on his right forearm. Two officers had taken cover behind the counter while finding a way to get back up.
According to Sgt. Romero, Constable Homer stealthily crawled behind the counter to get closer and stole a handgun from one of the criminals from behind, locking his neck and pointing a gun at his right temple to distract the others. Sgt. Romero snuck out and made a phone call at a nearby civilian’s house, requesting armed backup. Several gunshots were heard from the store afterward and armed officers arrived at the crime scene a few minutes later.
Two immigrants were found injured from a gunshot on the left palm of his hand and right thigh respectively and the other one was found dead from a deadly shot on the forehead, going through the back of his head. Assumably, constable Homer was the one who pulled the trigger on them. He was fatally injured at the crime scene with 3 bullets on his left chest, stomach, and right upper arm. Later, he was sent to the nearest hospital and passed away at 3.42 pm. The two criminals were arrested immediately and later interrogated.
Their motives and identities will soon be revealed by law enforcement this afternoon. The conference will be held at [Redacted] police station by Chief Inspector [Redacted] however Sgt. Romero refused to share more information. He is currently recovering from an injury under the care of Dr. John Hallward. “He has seen enough horror. Let him rest”, said his wife before shutting the door of Dr. Hallward’s clinic.
Sarah Allen
Journalist
Part 3
Clara Hallward’s diary
Date: 18th December 1910
Traditionally, the funeral for a law enforcer who died in the line of duty is held by both their family and the police force to honor and mourn the fallen hero. Needless to say, not every family is satisfied for they only wanted a small, quiet funeral for their loved ones with only family and companions. Some could assume that the authorities could care less about their employee yet they took an opportunity to put on a conspicuous act as a way for reputation and sympathy. Nevertheless, superiors only see their subordinates as pawns that they could send to die anytime as they celebrate and spend all tax money from the miserable working class on worthless, temporary things. The more power someone holds, the less selfless you become. I volunteered to assist Emily with organizing William's funeral the best I could. The young man did not have a family except for her. Fortunately, William's friends also offered their hands to help, letting the poor girl rest. She could not stop weeping on my shoulders as I gave her a warm hug, and gently pat her back to console her. Her hand slowly rubbed a large belly sorrowfully while a pair of eyes filled with unwept tears looked down softly.
"Poor babe", her voice was shaky as she uttered. "She would never get to meet her dear father. Not even his face nor hear his voice. He told me he had learned a lullaby that he would sing for her at night. Imagine how warm it would be for her to be cradled lovingly in his arms. He was intrigued to buy our unborn child a new tiny outfit and a crib and worked all day and night so we could buy a larger house for us three. Now look at him. Look at how stubbornness murdered my husband"
I continued to stroke her back to soothe her. Being a widow during this period means she must mourn her husband’s death for about two years, wear black garments, and seclude themselves from socialization. Such customary limitations for grieving women are unjust in my eyes. Men only wore mourning attire for three weeks and only required an armband instead of a full outfit like us women. To change what is traditional is challenging if it is widespread within society unless it becomes a law that forces people to follow. Women tend to have fewer rights than men. Nevertheless, some unfaltering ladies stood up for equal rights and continued to fight against patriarchal oppression. It is challenging yet one day victory would be ours. Breaking a code or not, I intended to stay by Emily’s side if she needed me.
“Shall we take a walk in the backyard, Emily? It might help clear your mind. Take your time to rest as well. I shall be by your side as long as you need me.” I insisted, gently smiling at her as my gloved finger wiped her unshed tear. Emily’s head lowers as she takes her time to consider before slowly nodding. Her arms clung to mine during the whole time like a frightened lost child it made me nearly shed tears from pity. A lass like her would despise to appear pitiful and fragile in front of strangers or acquaintances yet we are close since our husbands work together.
Speaking of my husband, Víctor is presumably on his way to Homer resident from work. After William’s death, he barely speaks to me and responds slowly. Last night, I saw a glimpse of candlelight and smelled strong alcohol from beer in his workroom after midnight. Once I entered I found him asleep on the floor, hand loosely gripping a beer bottle. With all my strength, I put his arm around my shoulders, dragging him to a leather couch and laying his body down. For the whole night, I slept on a nearby armchair in case he needed anything yet once I woke up, I found myself on the same couch I laid my husband on with a thin blanket covering my body. I was feeling groggy but I could swear he gave a kiss on my forehead before leaving without any word. I wish to help him yet I run out of ideas on what I must do. I tried to have a conversation with Víctor yet he shunned me away. Why must you suffer alone, my love? He always kept his pain to himself but the longer he remained silent, the more torturous he would feel. It will be the best decision to not pressure him and let him open up once the time comes.
As we took a stroll in the yard, Emily spotted 2 men in police uniform with an armband on the pavement, chatting with William’s friends one of the officers was none other than my beloved husband and the other was his commander, Mr. Archie. Her hands squeezed my arm as she uttered quietly to me, asking if we could meet them. I agreed with a comforting smile and took her there.
“Mrs. Homer”, Inspector Archie greeted, bowing his head a little. “Inspector Thomas Archie and I assume you have known this gentleman right here, Sergeant Víctor Romero. He is Mr. Homer’s commander and mentor.” The older gentleman turned to me with a polite smile. “Mrs. Jones. How pleasant to see you here.”
Víctor forced a polite smile and bowed his head a little at Emily, greeting her. “Mrs. Homer. How has my wife been treating you?” He tried to make a lighthearted conversation with her yet I felt a heated aura, coming from poor Emily as her hand gripped my arm tighter. I saw how her thin eyebrows furrowed angrily as she fiercely glared at my husband. Víctor noticed and cleared his throat, lowering his head slightly while his eyes were staring at the ground, unable to look her straight in the eyes. “I apologize for my rudeness. It was careless of me—”
”Certainly. Inexcusably careless” Emily rebuked bitterly, silencing a policeman in front of her. “What kind of commander are you to leave your subordinate to fight alone against 3 men? You know how risky it was yet you ran away like a coward. He was unarmed, for heaven’s sake, and those scums had weapons. You let him suffer alone, scared and fatally wounded under the hands of those wicked immigrants! Hold on…..you are one of them! So that was why you became a scaredy-cat who happens to sympathize with those of your kind that only cause trouble to good Christian British innocents like us-“. She has gone too far. Her fury has taken control of her mind. I shook her lightly to stop her from spitting more obscenities to Víctor who has not protested and kept his head low.
”Emily, that’s enough. Come, my dear, let us go take a seat inside.” The younger woman in her mourning dress pushed me away and approached Víctor, hitting him on his chest repeatedly with her fists. “You monster! It should have been you who died! You failed him! You murdered William, you cowardly killer! You do not deserve him! You do not deserve the title and badge you have! You do not deserve Mrs. Hallward and should die alone like how you let him rot! Curse you! Damn you, Víctor Romero! Why do you stay silent!? Why don’t you push me away and run like a pussy you are!?” I finally pulled her away, gripping her arm. As much as I empathized with her grief, I could not contain myself from the irritation I felt toward her words against my husband. I care for her like a little sister and it shall be this way yet Víctor is my husband and my adoration for him is indescribable. Those accusations are not true. I know my husband well. He is no coward and he trusted William as much as William trusted him. I understand why Emily blamed him for her husband’s death for she is sorrowful beyond words and she needed to let it out but Víctor had enough of terror as well. Emily hugged me tightly, sobbing uncontrollably on my shoulders once again as I took her inside.
”We shall chat later, officers.” I left with poor Emily, heading inside the house. As I glanced back, I could see the two men having a conversation. I assumed that Mr. Archie was trying to comfort my dear love but I doubt it would work. He would not take her outburst lightly for he is an over-thinker and sensitive. I shall discuss this with him later and pray that he will let himself in on his feelings.
Inside the parlor, a wooden coffin is laid in the middle of the room. The body of a young man with slicked blonde hair and a matching pencil mustache in his black burial clothes who fell into everlasting slumber lay peacefully in a coffin that has become his eternal bed. A soft, small smile displayed on his youthful face, showing that he has volunteered to sacrifice for the greater good. An idealistic tragic savior. Emily preferred to be alone at the moment so I came to meet Víctor who was looking down at the man inside a coffin. My gloved hand reached out to his shoulder, patting gently. He turned his head to me with a feeling of sorrow on his face before taking my hand, gripping it tenderly yet firm.
“This niño…….never listens to his mentor. He always has a mind of his own and they called me rebellious and a bad influence.” Víctor bitterly laughed as his eyes fixed on William’s peaceful face. “He signaled me to rush outside to get help and sacrifice his arse to save me. How dare he order me when I am his commander and why did I listen to him? William, you arrogant cabrón. You should have been the one who ran to get help, not me. Look at how they massacred my boy, Clara.” Víctor covered his face with his right hand, lowered down his head, and sighed. I stroked his arm soothingly, laying my head on his shoulder. “He believed in you, Víctor. I am certain he is proud of you as well.”, I comforted him yet what I have said is a truth. Despite William’s arrogant defiance toward his mentor, he respected and admired Víctor as he spoke highly of him and took a mentor’s teaching seriously. His competitive nature made him try to prove his capabilities to Víctor many times. Pride and determination sometimes resulted from a quarrel between them yet they always made up with a bottle of beer in the bar. Although, Víctor never said it out loud, I know that deep down, he is truly proud of him as a partner and teacher. He trusted William’s judgement and that was why he ran away for help. He acknowledged the risk yet he could never doubt his partner’s decision to commit self-sacrifice. One story ends for another one to continue. A curse within a blessing. To live in the pain of eternal guilt. It is Víctor’s choice whether or not he shall take that as a curse that slowly gnaws his heart until there is only an empty soul left or a blessing as a will to live proudly as a man can be. Whatever choice he chooses, no matter the path he walks, hell or heaven or a mortal world, I shall be by his side on every step he takes. Víctor silently laid his head on mine as we looked down, mourning the tranquil face of a youthful savior who had been taken too soon.
Part 4
A Telephone Conversation
Date: 19th December 1910, before midnight
[A phone in the hallway rings before Inspector Archie heads upstairs to bed.]
A: Archie’s resident, how may I help you?
C: Mr. Archie! Thanks heaven that you are still awake! Pardon me. Clara Jones is speaking.
A: Lass? Is there any urgent matter to call me this late? To be frank, I was about to head to bed.
C: I beg for your forgiveness, sir. I do not mean to disrupt you if it is not a distress. It is about Víctor. I need your help and you are the only one who can do this.
A: Romero? What happened to him? Is he alright?
C: Indeed no. Had you seen nothing strange about him lately, Mr. Archie?
A: I do notice how he blanked out sometimes. Other than that, he seems normally fine, or at least pretends to be. Come to think of it, he never flinched at loud noises before. In the afternoon, a secretary accidentally dropped a pile of files, making a loud thud. Romero, drinking coffee mindlessly nearby, was suddenly startled that he dropped his ceramic cup. I think it was a ceramic cup you bought for him a long time ago. Well, of course, it was supposed to be a normal reaction for any human like us but never in my life of working alongside him had I ever seen him flinch that hard as if scared for his life. Not even the sounds of gunshots or thunderstorms could frightened him before.
C: He has been drinking a lot lately. His workroom is filled with empty beer bottles. He is a complete mess, sir. I do not know how long he can keep it. I tried to help but he won’t listen and locked himself in his room all day long. I recently dragged him out to the couch so he could lie down comfortably even though it is not as good as our bed. It troubles me that I could not sleep peacefully. I am certain that he is still feeling guilty over Officer Homer’s death as he kept blaming himself. He must have taken Mrs. Homer’s insults seriously. She was grieving at that time and she vented out furiously. You heard what she said to him yet I cannot come to be mad at her. They both suffered from losing their partner. I am lost. If there is anything you could do to help him, I beg you to guide him to the light, inspector.
A: My dear Clara, I understand your concerns toward him. Your love and dedication for him are greatly admirable and I assure you that you have done what you could. As a commander, my subordinates’ well-being is my biggest priority. Romero is an excellent officer but even the strongest warrior has their vulnerability for we are human. Do not fret, child. I will offer my hand to help.
C: You have my thanks, inspector. What shall we do? Are you able to let him have a break? Relaxation might help him somehow. A week would do or a few days.
A: There is no need to overthink, Clara. I do not mind letting him rest. I shall break his arrogant shell and I have a plan for that. After that, it is your turn to be by his side. Heal him, lass. You are the only one he has and he shall listen to you. He may be stubborn as a mule yet he is devoted to you and definitely would comply.
C: Oh good sir, that would be enough! I do not know how to ever repay your generosity to help my poor husband. I shall do the best for my part. I am in your debt.
A: Do not think too much of it, my dear. I care about your husband’s state as much as you do but you know him better than I do despite knowing him for a long time. I put my trust and faith in you, Clara. Sleep well tonight and let your body and mind be at rest.
C: I will, sir. I apologize for the disruption and thank you. Good night, Mr. Archie.
[Conversation ended as Clara hung up, sighing in relief as she looked at her sleeping husband on the couch]
Part 5
Clara Hallward’s Diary
Date: 20th December 1910 (nighttime)
I came back home from work from school in the evening, exhausted from all the teaching and paperwork. Schoolmistress is an honorable occupation yet the reward was not as worthy as the effort we have spent. Generally, we would get paid less than schoolmasters even though we worked as hard as them, perhaps harder to earn deserving validation. Such unfairness results from a patriarchal system! Even if I keep on ranting about the injustice within the social structure, it is an honorable job. Children from the working class have more chances in education. To guide the younglings to the righteous path and be a part of their growth, giving them all I know, is my duty and I shall feel prideful once they become successful individuals with their happy and decent lives. Children are the future of our nation and we adults must mold them to do good. Give them opportunities and help them discover their path. We can only guide but not force them to take a step. Besides the point, according to society's norm of this period, I should have stayed at home as a housewife. A married woman must do chores, give heirs, and obey her husband. This gives a financial disadvantage for an unemployed divorced woman for jobs are hard to find as well when everyone's life depends on money. Fortunately, I enjoy my job and my husband agreed that I should continue to do what I love. Even though it is not a lot, some women decided to continue working after marriage. It is their choice whether they want to work or stay at home and no one should judge them for any choices that have been made.
Once I entered my residence, I heard soft blues music playing from a gramophone in the lounge room. Standing there was Victor without his overcoat whose dazing gaze fixed on a spinning disk on a gramophone with one hand in the trousers pocket and the other was holding a glass of sherry. He turned his head to me and smiled defeatedly before turning his head back and sipping his drink. An empty glass was placed on the nearby table as he walked to me and offered to carry my heavy purses which are filled with teaching materials and stationery items. I put my coat and hat on a hanging rack and followed him to our bedroom. None of us started any conversation. It was an awkward atmosphere for both of us. I suspected that he might be upset with me for what I did behind his back and I knew it was wrong to keep it from him for he despises secrets and lies even though he kept those anger to himself. Perhaps he was not a bad liar as he meant to sound sometimes. I shall reveal his feelings tonight if only he complies and gives in to his worsened mentality.
"How was your day, Clara?", he asked softly, trying to sound positive. "I got home early today. The old man decided that I needed to take some day off so he suspended me from working for a week. I think it would be nice to have some time for myself as well-"
"Darling, I am sorry for not telling you beforehand" I instantly interrupted for I could not bear the guilt I feel toward him. His face remained the same yet a small smile appeared with a light chuckle. "Worry not, dear. He already told me of your devious, mischievous plan that you have been plotting with him. I do not blame you for that. I am grateful and...." Victor sighed before continuing his speech and closed his eyes with his head slightly lowered, gently touching his recent bandaged wound from a gunshot. "I am sorry for causing you trouble and ignoring your well-being these recent days. I have been selfish, uncaring, and neglectful toward you. My actions are unforgivable and you have a right to be mad at me, Clara."
"I am not angry with you, Victor. I could never be. I am nothing but concern over your condition." My eyes softened as I expressed my thoughts to him. I gave a small squeeze on his hand to reassure him that it was fine for him to unleash his sorrow and pain on me. "Please, darling, do not be afraid of hurting my feelings. Seeing you tormenting yourself and hiding from me is much more painful. Let me help you shoulder this agony." My plea reached his ears which made him avert his gaze upon me embarrasingly. A sigh came out of his mouth and we both sat at the end of our bed while his eyes were still staring on the floor.
"I had nightmares. Several nightmares that kept me awake at night, frightened and trembled in fear. I kept seeing the same picture. Homer, Clara. Homer was breathing but his body was beyond repair. Blood splattered everywhere and I stood there, helpless as the medics took him. I heard him blaming me for letting him die alone and that I was a coward. What Emily said was right, Clara. I actually fail everyone around me. Just a useless piece of crap who does not deserve love, especially from you. You are too good for me. Too good for this cruel, unjust world. I should have been the one who took those shots, not him. He has a future ahead of him and a family to build." After finishing his rant, Victor pinched the bridge of his crooked nose and squeezed his eyes shut. I gently took his hand into mine. My father, who works as a doctor, told me that nightmare is caused by trauma as it becomes hallucination in a slumbering state. A repeating image of our guilt and fear that haunt within our consciousness. Time would be on his side. My voice turned softer as I spoke and lifted his chin so his eyes could meet mine. "Of course, we deserve each other, Victor. It was all a scary nightmare. Nothing was real. William would never said that and you know it. He trusted you as you trusted him. He knew that you would accomplish that is why he entrusted you to get the backup. If anything, he would be proud of you the same way you are proud of him. The boy admires you and you never disappointed him, my love. Anything could happen and we have no way to predict it."
"How would you know what he said when he is already dead? You weren't there, Clara."
"You are right. Certainly, I do not. However, you know him better than I do. Do you think he would hate you for such a decision he has willingly made? William is a clever boy. You have said it yourself. He knew the risk and you know he did. It is a life and death situation, darling."
"I could save him if I ran faster or stay! If it was not because of my useless wounded arm and exhausting legs!"
"You were unarmed, Victor. Those criminals had the upper hand with weapons in their grips. I trust your capabilities, wit, and strength, Victor but even with those, they have already cheated. It was not a fair game. William and your plan might be foolish but it works because of the faith between you two."
"You do not understand me, Clara. I am his mentor. I am his commander!", he accidentally shouted harshly at me, pulling his hand and chin away. "You underestimate me like Archie did. No, it IS what I am. A defenseless, spineless bastard! I should have been there with him. Don't you get it!? I cannot protect anyone I care about, can I? I only bring bad fortune upon those around me. You should not be with me, Clara, for I am hopeless." Despite his raging outburst, I could hear his voice trembling in misery and shame. I stood up in front of him silently, watching him pant heavily as his hands were gripping tightly and a healing wound on his arm was slightly bleeding from the intense jerk of his arm from my tender grasp earlier.
"You saved me before, Victor. I too could have died that night but you fought them like a brave knight who rescued his princess. I am still standing because of you and for that, I am forever grateful for your heroic act. The nightmare still lingers in my mind sometimes but I know that if I am with you then nothing will hurt me and I want to do the same for you, Victor. Please, let me help you somehow. Let me shoulder your pain, starting with the wound in your arm." I point at the bleeding arm of his as a red liquid stain on his white sleeve."
As I have stated my father is a physician so I have a basic skill of treating wounds like cuts, bruises, or gash. He often urged me to become a nurse thus I could assist him with his clinic job. I considered this career choice as well but I prefer working with children rather than adults. They could be mischievous in their childish manner but not as cynical and complex as adults from the way I see it from the teacher's perspective. Nevertheless, both occupations are honorable for they have one common thing to lend their guiding hand to those in need. A man bit his lips once I stitched his gash and hummed a soft tune. I completed my task quickly and the new stitches are neat and clean as Victor takes a glance, admiring my handiwork.
"There you go. Try not to move too much", I give him a teasing smile as he gently touches his arm. "I shall put the first aid kit back and return it to you. I will not be gone for long."
"Just stay with me.....please." Once I turned back, Víctor took my wrist in his rough calloused hand, pleading for me to stay by his side. "I regret crashing out at you. I let my rage control me and hurt the only person who stays by my side when I am a vicious desgraciado."
"What does that mean?" Sometimes he would slip out a Spanish word in our conversation and he would teach me some basic terms in his mother tongue. It is entertaining to see him do so. He always looked enthusiastic when I learned something new from him and I found it adorable. "Dis-gracia something. Is it a bad word?" Víctor turned to look at me and sighed before giving me a small smile. "Perhaps. I should not have said that. Now you would yearn for me to tell you its meaning. It means "disgrace" or something similar to that. Never speak this to anyone. Forget what you have heard. I am grateful to have you, Clara. Even though I am a complete mess, you still can love and cherish me, treating my wounds. I feel slightly better from venting out yet I do not mean to be harsh on you. I wish I could be stronger. For god's sake, I could barely contain my tears. Such pathetic."
Before he could reach his finger to wipe his tears, I stopped him. He finally broke down. I managed to reach within his heart and understand his intolerable pain. All he needs to do is let it all out. "Do not keep it any longer, my love. There are just the two of us. Weep if you must. Cry until you become exhausted and think of nothing for you are a human like anyone else. Even the strongest warrior wept in his weakest moment. Be weak with me. No one can hurt you now. "As my words reassured him, Victor finally gave in and buried his head on my shoulder, sobbing like a fragile baby. His strong arms tightened around my body as if he was in fear of me disappearing. I hugged back, rubbing his trembling back. I could hear the faint sound of his ugly cry and for that, I felt relieved that I too burst into tears. His shame and regret are unable to disappear at once yet they will gradually turn into strength for him to continue living for the sake of the dead one's sacrification. I gave him a soft kiss on his hair to soothe his mind and body and his arms squeezed me, constraining me like a strong rope that immobilized my soul. "How can you love a pitiful, worthless man like me, Clara? I am blessed with your presence. Nothing I do will ever be enough to deserve your sympathy. Oh god. How much I adore and worship you. Love is never enough to explain how I feel toward you. If that boy is here, he will tease me for sure. Never that guy is bearable with his cunning words."
I chuckled as I wiped my tears and laid my cheek on his head. "Oh, Víctor. My beloved husband. How could I ever abandoned such a charming tonto like you? I could hold you like this as I stay in your warm embrace forever and never let go."
"Tonto? I should refrain from speaking Spanish with you. Such a horrible influence I am."
"Did I pronounce it correctly?"
"Perfectly, love. Utterly flawless."
"Oh! Sarcasm!"
We both bursted out in laughter. For the whole night, we stayed by each other side closely. He looked better than earlier and I was glad that I could help him a bit. Time will heal him and so will I. I am certain that he did listen to my words and tried to accept himself again. No one knows William Homer as a partner better than him. Precisely, I do not know what he would feel toward Víctor but it is the answer Victor needs to find, either it is the universal truth or perhaps a self-defense mechanism. Nevertheless, I will always believe in him. After all, "trust" is a key element of a healthy relationship whether it is lovers, friends, or mentor-apprentice. Come to think of it, tomorrow is Saturday and we could spend time together all day long. His day off is normally on Sunday but since he is on a break, we could go to Ruskin Park together for a stroll or even a picnic. Oh! It has been a while since we last feed the tiny, fluffy ducklings together. I shall talk with him later as right now, the time I am writing, my beloved darling has already fallen asleep on a bed with his head lying on my lap instead of a pillow. Sweet dreams, Víctor. May your nightmares vanish and be blessed with peaceful sleep.
Epilouge
Sgt. Víctor Jones Romero's Diary
Date: 10th January 1911
A bouquet of white lilies I bought from a nearby flower shop on the way to cemetery is placed on the grave of William Homer, a late partner and student of mine. This is the first time after the day of his burial that I have come to visit. Days ago, there was an intense gunfight between law enforcers with the assistance of military and the revolutionaries. It has appeared that the robbery which took a life of Homer caused by three immigrants was to fund the upcoming revolution. It was a dreadful bloodshed that even Churchill visited to aid with his power. I deny to give any more of my political opinion about him yet I must say it was bold of a powerful authoritive figure to actually come in the front line amidst the chaos to lend his hand. However, I was not at the scene so I did not fully know well what actually happened. All my knowledge of the occasion is from the daily newspaper and Archie who was there. He forbid me to join the siege and ordered me to go spend time with my wife. Undoubtedly, he knew that I had not fully recovered from the traumatizing event which linked to the siege as well. I understand his order and reluctantly agreed. Besides, the siege happened at the street near our home so it would be the best for me to temporary evacuate myself and Clara to Dr. Hallward's resident, otherwise known as his clinic. We settled there until the battle ended and the rebels were all captured. Rumor said the anachists' motive was to break free from unfair treatment and oppression resulting from racial segregation. Some stated that they were being ungrateful to their employers and greedy for wanting to take over London as their own land which causes commotion between immigrants and local citizens. Whatever their motive was the damage has already been done and it would take a long time to fix this plight. Despite being a legal british citizen, I still faced discrimination in daily life but I know how to handle it despite how infuriating it is.
It is winter in London and a chilly breeze gently blows the green grasses and leaves from the large oak tree. I hid my hands in the coat pocket with a knitted cream wool scarf covered the lower half of my face and neck, looking down at the grave of my old comrade. "Hey, nino. It's been a while. How's the afterlife treating you? It's like shit here in mortal's world if you ask me. I cannot guarantee that the justice will be served for you but I shall make sure that it happened. I am still recovering. Clara.....I do not know how to thank her but she helps me a lot. Your wife sent me a letter not so long ago to apologize for her raging outburst. I wrote back saying that I understood her action. After all, she was grieving the most among us. I and Clara planned to visit her. The customary isolation is utterly distressing for any lonesome young lady with no financial support. Be at ease, nino. We decided to support her the best we can until she could go back to work in the factory again. Did you miss me? Well, I miss you. I miss our time together."
I puffed out a cold breath as my fingers pulled a wool scarf under my chin, revealing the lower half of my face. "I enjoy working with a stubborn kid like you as a partner. We made a good team, didn't we? As a mentor, I have always been proud of you. I wish I could have said it earlier. We always regret not saying things to people we care about because of our pride or doubtfulness and once that person is gone, we could only blame ourselves to let those emotions silence us. I shamefully drunk myself to hide my sorrow and pain that I feel yet not even booze can heal my broken heart. Can you believe it? My wife and that old fart worked together to help my depressed arse to stand on my feet again. How pathetic and humiliating I was." I let out a small chuckle before sighing. "I could imagine i you were still here. You would tease me and we would probably throw a punch or two on each other's faces. We would end up at my father in law's clinic as he rolled his eyes and scolded us. Clara would secretly laughed in the back. I miss those times so bad, Homer. Never again those happy times."
I knelt down in front of the grave and pulled out a steel flask of beer from my coat, twisting the lid. "You shall never be forgotten, my friend, as long as I walk on this earth. Once we meet again, let us have a drink together and get drunk like the apocalypse would soon doomed us all soon. For now...."
My words are paused as I ritually poured my half of my drink on the ground before lifted the flask to my lips.
"Cheers, brother."
(PS. After that, I am temporarily banned from entering the cemetery for committing the ritual on my own. This is your fault, Homer)