Charles turned and ran toward the stairs, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. It just didn’t seem right. Charles didn’t pause for a moment, and perhaps if he had it would have saved him. Instead he tripped over his own feet and went spiraling down the stairs to meet his doom.

Charles opened his eyes, his body bent and broken. He expected to see his mother come to check on him, or at the very least his house. Instead, it was as if he was looking up at the inside of the whorehouse. A woman did come to stand beside him, it was the woman who had given him the key, and the last thing he saw was her taking it back.

“You should have used it, you fool. It might have saved you.” Her whispered words fell gently on his ears, as he sank into oblivion or afterlife, or hell.