About seven years ago, Nicholas lay still on his bed, feeling rid of that hunger and tenseness and hearing the wail of the night wind over and above his breathing. He turned from his cousin's side and lay on his back again, stretching his legs wide apart. He felt the tenseness flow gradually from him. His breathing grew less and less heavy and rapid until he could no longer hear it, then so slow and steady that the consciousness of breathing left him entirely. He was not at all sleepy and he lay, feeling his cousin, Lora Wild lying there beside him. He turned his head in the darkness towards her. Her breath came to him slowly. He wondered if she was sleeping because somewhere deep in him, he knew that he was lying here waiting for her to go to sleep.
Lora did not figure out what was before him, looking at him with blank eyes. He remembered that he had seen two men lying on the floor of the room owned by his father, Patrick Wild as he had entered. He tried to recall just where they were, but could not. But he was sure they were there somewhere. He would have to find them, at least one of them. He would have to search for their bodies if he had to.
"Go to sleep, Nicholas," his mother said as she shut the door tightly.
He rose as soon as he was alone with Lora. It would have been much better if he had not said anything to Lora about the bodies he had seen in his father's room. But, now she already knew. Well, it was her own fault she decided to listen to him. She had bothered him so much that he had had to tell her everything he saw from the blood down to the tissues of the men. And how on earth could he have known that she would sleep happily with such thoughts in her head?
He felt a sting of regret as the image of the men and their rushing blood came back to him. He had gazed straight at those men for almost a full minute and had not been able to realize that they were the bodies of his father's enemies. He had thought that his father might find out some other way and then suddenly confront him with a question concerning his curiosity. Never did he think that he could stand and look at the two men and not know they were his father's enemies. Never did he think he could stand and look at the two men and not know his father was capable of doing that. His thoughts came back to the room. What about Lora Wild? He listened to her breathing as he feared she was going to threaten him with the secret he had shared to her the next day. He could take her life now and not be reprimanded for it on solid grounds that he was still young and legally not yet an adult. He bit his lips and felt the feeling of regret as he stared at her.
Yes. She was asleep. He reconstructed in his mind the details of his father's room as he had seen them by the glow of the flashlight when he had first come in. The window was directly behind him, above his head. The lamp was at his side. The knife was lying beside the lamp, the handle pointing toward him, so he could get it quickly and be in a position to use it if his father had caught him. But he could not use the knife. He could not use the knife on his father because he loved his father too much to desire to end his life.
The room was almost black-dark now and silent as if the city did not exist. He sat up slowly, holding his breath, listening. Lora's breath was deep, regular. He could not take her life and he could not let her tell his father's secret which had now become his secret to anyone. He stretched out his hand and caught the flashlight. He listened again; her breath came like the sleep of the tired horse who had spent two full days travelling west. He was holding the covers off her by sitting up this way and he did not want her to get cold and awaken because of his lack of sleep. He eased the covers back; she still slept, unmoved and unaware that he was thinking. His finger pressed a button on the flashlight and a dim spot of yellow leaped to life on the opposite wall. Quickly, he lowered it to the floor, for fear that it might disturb her and end up waking her in a bad way. He turned off the flashlight as he assured himself that his secret was safe with Lora Wild. He tried to sleep again but couldn't find a reason to sleep. Instead, he stiffened as he watched her stir restlessly. Her deep, regular breathing had stopped. He listened, but could not hear it. He saw her breath as a dark thread stretching out over a vast black gulf and felt that he was clinging to it and was waiting to see if the ravel in the dark thread which had started would continue and let him drop to the rocks far below until he could not see the blood no more. Then he heard her breathing again, in, out; in, out. He heard her breathing until the door was suddenly opened.
"Go to sleep, Nicholas Wild," his mother yelled, taking the flashlight from his hand.
He willingly gave it up and ran back to his bed to join his cousin, Lora Wild and finally sleep.
*
Presently, Nicholas Wild stared at the female figure who was in front of him. He couldn't believe his father was not joking when he made a phone call and demanded for the presence of a woman in his grand house. Standing in front of him was his cousin, Lora Wild. Her figure as elegant as always. She stared at him for a short while before running towards him to give him a tight hug.
"I missed you," she said, bringing him closer.