Betrayed

Philip had gone beyond anger and rage. He now sat at his desk, centred in a terrible calm. His fingers softly tapping in time with the ticking of the the old grandfather clock in the study. The room was in a state of complete disarray, a result of his initial rage. Sitting at the desk, calm with a small smile playing at his lips, Philip was at odds with the environment.

Nothing could have prepared him for the scale of betrayal and deceit, the hurt ripped a hole right through to his very core. There would be a reckoning for this alright, there would be no half measures. His revenge was going to be brutal and bloody. As he considered the blood his smile grew wider and life finally returned to his eyes.

Philip had tried so hard to blend in, to be normal! He had gotten a job although he had no need to work, he had people he saw socially and there was his family. At the thought of his 'family', his expression flickered to rage, replaced with the smile so fast you could be forgiven for thinking it a trick of the light. His 'family', those people he had allowed close enough to care for, to protect and enjoy spending time with. There was no blood tie to these people, more a bond formed over time and stronger for it.

How long he they conspired against him? Plotting in their dark hidden places, desperate to steal his wealth. The irony being, had they asked, he would have given it freely. He had simple tastes and money meant very little to him. He had been thinking of his family when he drew up the will, wanting to take care of them should anything ever happen to him. He had shared this will with them to give them peace of mind for the future. Oh how their eyes had lit up when they saw their inheritance, he had convinced himself then that it was a trick of his mind, they would not think like that.

Philip had so wanted to trust them, but there was an itch between his shoulder blades that could not be scratched. Gradually over the last couple of weeks he had pieced together their plan. He had to admit he admired their patience, they had been very careful but had underestimated him, not a mistake anyone made twice. Philip noticed things that others wouldn't, he had made it his life's work to study people and could tell when something was up. The scheme they had hatched to have him institutionalised was now doomed to failure.

To Philip, black and white was the best way to view the world, he had tried to live in the boredom of grey and look where that had gotten him.  Looking back at the last few years he could see clearly that he had been fooling himself, pretending to live a life that society demanded rather than the life he wanted. He had not realised how drained and lethargic he had become until this betrayal. Maybe he should be thanking them and not planning to punish them,  but where was the fun in that?.

Standing, he looked around the room and began to tidy up. What could not be salvaged was placed neatly in the bin. While he worked he thought about blood, the feel of it tacky on his fingers, the copper taste, the darkness of it, blacker than the night, the way it would glisten when moonlight broke through clouds and bestowed its gentle kiss. His smile grew wider when he considered just how much there would be when he was finished and he barked a short laugh at the image of literally bathing in their blood.

Finally order was restored and Philip found himself in front of his Grandfather clock, a heavy piece, not easy to move. The pendulum clanging against the sides as he levered the clock away from the wall to reveal a shallow alcove. This contained a black leather bundle, covered in a fine layer of dust, neatly tied up with a leather thong. Philip reverently picked up this hidden package, feeling the weight of it, comfortable in his hands after so long. Placing it on the desk he could not help notice the tremble in his hands as he reached to untie the thong. Unrolling the package he revealed the tools that he had denied himself for too long.

His knives still razor sharp and the claw hammer squat and heavy. They had all been burnished to ensure no reflected light would give him away. The movies made people stupid, they saw the glint of knives before the strike and thought that was the correct way to do things, Philip was smarter, he knew that not being able to see the weapon coming for you made it deadlier still. People were terrified of the unknown, not being able to see where the strike was coming from and just feeling the pain added to the feeling of helplessness.

Philip put the clock back against the wall, and made his way to the kitchen to prepare dinner. He found his appetite had returned and his food taste real for the first time in many years. Full at last, he returned to his study and waited. He sat motionless, fingers steepled under his chin as if deep in thought, watching the hands of the clock move slowly, but steadily around the face. Finally it was time to act.........