by Danielle Westman

There’s really no such thing as the ‘voiceless’. There are only the deliberately silenced, or the preferably unheard. – Arundhati Roy

Few things will truly push a man to murder – anger, pride, vengeance. But what happens when you add allies – allies that share your same anger and frustration? What happens when alcohol brazens the minds of those already clouded with hatred? People do unimaginable things when pushed to the edge, but to have others rally to their cause only makes them bolder.

It was no secret that the Donnellys were hated by the small-town mindset in their community. The Donnellys were scapegoats for whatever plight befell the denizens of Biddulph county, and were made out to be monsters and villains. But even now as I hid under the bed like the scared child I was, I could say they did not deserve this fate.

I had agreed to watch over their homestead whilst they were away at court, and now I found myself hidden, too terrified to move and too powerless to do anything, even if I wanted to. All I could do was listen.

Mr. Donnelly’s angry voice rang through the house. “What have you got against us now? Haven’t you and your peace society harassed me and my family enough, Carroll?”

“Well Donnelly if you and your family kept yourselves out of trouble, this wouldn’t happen so often. You’re under arrest.” Constable James Carroll responded with a voice laced with venom I could almost feel as though it were seeping into my veins.

“If you’re here to arrest us, where’s the warrant?”

I couldn’t see where Tom was. Before that could truly register, a thunderous crash and bang echoed through the small home. The sound of several sets of footfalls reverberated through the wood floor I found myself pressed against. I had become unaware of the tiny space surrounding me until I felt the rough wood scratching at the palms of my hands.

Mr. Donnelly’s demands for an explanation were met with the sound of metal hitting something hard, and that’s when I saw Mr. Donnelly fall into view. Blood from his head pooled and seeped into the wood floor near me, as a shovel was brought down on him. His hands he held up to defend himself soon slumped to the floor as shovels and clubs were brought down again and again. The rhythmic and dull thud rang through the house accompanied by the blood- filled gurgling of Mr. Donnelly’s life beaten from his body.

Thud..thud..thud..thud!

They’d caught Mr. Donnelly by surprise, but not Mrs. Donnelly. They’d murdered her husband in cold blood and now were determined to make them all pay; and they did. She fought them tooth and nail. If only it had been enough.

Maybe had there not been so many, she could have fought them off.

The grief and rage-filled screams of Mrs. Donnelly gave way to those resonating thuds as she too was thrown to the floor.

Thud..thud..thud!

Suddenly from somewhere I heard Tom’s feral screams and heavy footsteps as he charged the men in retaliation. They must have restrained him and made him watch their murderous work with his ma and pa. He tried to lash out, but could only witness the life drain from his father’s eyes and then his mother’s. The men threw him down, and I pushed myself further under the bed and watched in horror the murderous fury of their weapons.

Thud..thud!

The last two things I heard were cousin Bridget’s single bloodcurdling scream, followed by that same thud, mimicking the slowing of heartbeats slipping away. She’d tried to run. She’d tried to hide, but…

Thud!

The silence that fell over the homestead was crushing; even my shaking breath muffled by my hands sounded like screaming. I was certain they could have found me from the sound of my heart racing alone. It felt as though I had a stampede of wild horses in my chest fighting to break out. Tom’s lifeless eyes stared back at me in my hiding spot, begging me from beyond the grave to help him. I couldn’t stop the tears that spilled down my cheeks and those sounds repeating in my mind.

Then, new sounds – the crackling and popping of fire. I smelled the smoke before I ever saw the flames. They’d murdered the Donnellys and were now getting rid of any traces of them. The flames licked the sides of the log home, as I finally pulled myself from under the bed. The heat dried whatever tears were left on my cheeks and the smoke filled my lungs, burning me from the inside. Fits raked my body as I willed my limbs forward. The blood-soaked wood of the floor scratched and dug at the soles of my feet.

I have to get out. I don’t want to die here. I cannot, I thought to myself. Breaking past the threshold of the blazing inferno that consumed the Donnelly homestead, I staggered into the biting sting of the February night. The frigid winter air filled my burning lungs. Every breath felt as though a mountain were laying on me.

“Boys, this night we will rid ourselves forever of the Donnellys!” The voice of James Carroll cut through the darkness. Cheers swelled and the group headed further down the road towards Whalen line. What they intended to do I could only imagine as I ran through the snow biting into my legs. The glow of the inferno behind me canvased the snow in orange light, as my elongated shadow raced through it.

Will they come for me once they’re done with the Donnellys or will they even care? I wondered. Despite everything I witnessed, the voice of a boy would not be heard above the voices of men. In the end, it would be my word against theirs.