Spoiler! :
Splash. The puddles now soaked the man's formerly clean pants; they were almost unrecognizable as the ones he had bought just last week. Splish, splash, drip. The man- Charles, was not very pleasant looking, neither were his usually shabby clothes. His skin, pasty cracked plaster, eyes, sinister green, and his eyebrows, (large, red beasts) more drawing than any of his other features took the focus off his carefully parted lips, turned up ever so slightly.Charles wiped his glasses and set them in his pocket, next to his hidden revolver. He then took off his bowler hat and shook the rain out. It was useless now against his deep red hair, carefully parted down the center.
Once again, he went over the plan-- Down the alley, turn right, check your back, knock three times, say the password. His worrisome tendencies kept him fixated on the time. He was late, once again, too caught up in his own thoughts to keep track of the time. How had he gotten caught up in this mess in the first place? Splish, splash. The rain grew heavier, dripping on his face like a pestering child. He was late.
Sure, maybe they wouldn't care. Maybe they would say it was fine, take a seat, have a cup of tea. The far more likely solution would be a shot to the head. Charles was a man who quite often found himself wandering down the wrong path. Sometimes it was the wrong street, the wrong job, or ending up owing money to the wrong people. Any way, it always ended the same-- disaster.
He took a right turn and knew it was close, knew it was only moments before he had to face what he had been dreading. The thought had always been in the back of his head, lurking like a poisonous snake, but he had always shoved it aside. Victoria was a wonderful woman, and she did not deserve to have a husband whose lies were so deep. She did not know half of what he knew when he came home at night, exhausted, and shared his worries. He left out some minor details, who he was with when he disappeared for hours on end, where he had suddenly gotten the money from to pay for their new London apartment, and sure, Victoria had her doubts, but none of them were close to the truth. Even her husband did not fully understand the complexity of what he was dealing.
As the man stepped up the old door's steps, his nervousness set in. The door was almost as startlingly haunting as what lie beneath it. The initial finish had worn off almost completely, leaving the bare maple wood exposed to the bleak London winters. Perhaps the ominous door helped keep away visitors, regardless, there weren't many around this part of town. Would he knock, knowing the consequences?
There was no use hiding anymore. If he did not face them now, they would find him and make him pay. Charles was not a brave man, nor was he stupid, but somehow he always ended up in the middle of daring deeds he did not know how to get out of. Knock, went the voice in the back of his head. He paused a second longer, noticing the absence of rain, before finally facing the door. One, two three.
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