Never had Jeff felt such fear as he lay on his head thinking, wondering, conspiring about the suitcase. The more he thought about it, the more he feared it. Nobody, not his brother, nor the housekeeper, nor Jeff himself knew how or why the suitcase was there. They saw nothing of it, they were intrigued why Jeff cared so much, but not even he knew why he was letting the suitcase get to him. Days flew by while the constant presence of the suitcase remained with him, day by day he felt more anger, fear, he began to become convinced he was going insane. The suitcase had a tight grip on him, he would try and forget but it would lure him back in. The anger inside him was noticeable, the way he was scornful, and his constant scornful face, and the clenching of his fists at any minor inconvenience. His parents were worried but they did nothing, they were simply bystanders to the suitcase’s manipulation of their beloved son.
Jeff began to feel furious, the suitcase lay before him but it was locked, he saw it as a secret that had been kept from him and now he wanted to find out, he had let it go too far and he had realised it.
Why couldn’t he open it? Why did his family not care? Were they excluding him from this secret? His thoughts crowded his mind like a swarm of locusts. He felt betrayed and that betrayal led to anger, furious anger. He stormed towards the shed, grabbed the axe and latched the door shut. He was inside the attic now; his family yelled his name as they followed up after him.
“I’m sorry but don’t do it,” his father said in a light, comforting tone.