Fallacy- A tale by Mr Earnshaw and Hindley Earnshaw

I heard an abysmal voice summoning me from my father’s room. It was unrecognisable. His illness had entirely consumed him for now I couldn’t even recognise his voice. I vacillated as I knocked at his door. I felt extreme resentment however forced myself to knock, for the sake of humanity. There was no response other than a small grumble noise for which I entered myself. I entered the room in a confused state for why my father had called on me rather than his ostensible favourite- Heathcliff. I walked up to my dying father and sat next to him as he was breathing in superficial breaths. I put up a façade of concern as I waited for him to talk. His mouth opened and gushes of air thrust themselves out as he began to speak.
“Hindley- my son…” His voice had an apparent ‘whenever your mother and I would argue, I would stubbornly leave the house and make my way to my mistress- down in Liverpool. She would always listen to me and wouldn’t shout at me like your mother would do- but as shameful as it sounds- she would fulfil my every wish and demand and after a couple of years I grew very fond of her. When I would go to visit her she instructed me to leave before midnight for that was when her son came home from the carer. One evening your mother found stains on my shirt whilst washing it and asked me to forgive her and for us to start afresh. After that night I started seeing her less and less until eventually I stopped seeing her at all. Many years had passed and one evening long after your mother had died I felt very lonely and wanted company when I remembered her and how good she made me feel. After debating with myself for a couple of hours, I decided to check up on her- for I hadn’t seen her for so long. So I instructed Joseph to set up my horse and I made my way back up to Liverpool. It was quite on the road which once was filled with liveliness. I made my way up to her front door and was just about to knock when I noticed small shoes in the right corner of the foot mat and that the door was already opened. I opened the door with my small finger and noticed a difference- the whole house was different in fact. Windows flung with bad airs coming in and good airs going out. Beams of light streamed through the worn wooden slats covering the holes that once contained glistening panes of glass. Thousands of dust particles danced and swirled in each ray of light that shone through, onto shards of crystal from a smashed chandelier that once hung from the ceiling; the refracted light spattering the shattered and worn black and white tile floor with an iridescent rainbow of colour. Despite the lustrous glow the light beams played upon this room, the depleted nature of this building could not be concealed. Dust clung to every surface, cobwebs lay draped over cloth covered furniture and the smell of damp hung in the air like a disease that had eradicated the fruitful perfume of the outside air long ago. A house once loved, now abandoned. I made my way to her room where there was a small note next to her bedside with the words ‘save yourself’ stamped on it. Before I could read on, a small boy appeared in front of me- he was of olive skin colour and resembled my mistress in some way. The way he walked, the way his eyes glistened in the sunlight. His every action mirrored her so it lead me to assume that this poor innocent boy must have been her son?
I asked him who he was but he evidently couldn’t understand a word I was saying. I asked the local villagers where my mistress went who the child was but no one had a clue or knew who the child was. My love for my mistress delved me to take him home and I managed. The boy stared at me

One ill-fated Sunday evening, I was preparing myself for bed when I realised that I had forgotten my favourite bible at the church from that morning. I grabbed my lantern and started to make my way towards the church which was not much far away from the grange in hope to release my depression for the day, through the good words of God. As I made my way down the hill towards the church, I noticed a familiar shadow in the distance. I made my way closer to it, unable to recognise who this broad figure was. When I realised that this silhouette was sitting near the gravestones outside the church, I understood that I had blundered to come out here at this hour, solitarily. I looked straight at the path ahead and continued to the church anticipating it was just a misconception. I was nearing the door as this penumbra encountered me and- it was Heathcliff! I looked into his eyes. Those once cheerful child-like bright blue eyes were replaced with two black holes- empty, devoid of life. The deep valleys in his skin made tracks to them, only bringing my attention to staring into their dark impenetrable depths. I tore my gaze away for a moment, and risked a glance at his body. The skin was taut on a frame of bone, bones that seemed to stick out in the most unnatural places. He raised a skeletal hand and impatiently flicked a strand of his matted and greasy hair back. I wanted to run but I couldn't. He stepped towards me, and air forced itself from the depths of his lungs. "Why you here?" he gasped. His voice had a blunt deep tone to it- as if it was not of a child but of a fully grown man. ‘Heathcliff?’ I questioned as I stared at this creature in fascination. It was as if the devil himself had presented himself in front of me in disguise of a young innocent soul.
I retreated in absolute tremor, nonetheless I was incapable to scream, for I was under an influence cast by the devil entrapped inside the peripheral of a young boy. As soon as the prompt paralysis wore off, I quickly absconded back to the heights.
Since that vile day, I had been extremely paranoid for every movement of Heathcliff’s and always seemed incapable of dispelling the horrid lust for the boy. Until one day I came to a conclusion that the devil residing inside of Heathcliff was causing this lust. His perpetual indifference and violent disposition were all the characteristics forged by the devil and imbedded inside the body of a child.
Hindley- My dearest. I am unaware of wear this devilish essence inside Heathcliff originates, but I am ashamed to finally garner the courage to shed light on the unworldly happenings that have revolved around us. So before I go- you be careful of Heathcliff-
Just then my father stopped to take in ragged breaths. He had exhausted himself telling this tale
‘you take care of Catherine, now Hindley’
Just then Nelly walked in and inspec