Charles turned to go back to get his doll like lover. He told himself that if he had escaped once, then he could surely do it again. Charles moved swiftly- or as swiftly as one can when one has only one good leg.

Soon he stood before the place again, and gazed up at the building. Something in the window caught his eye, and he recognized Betsy. This Betsy however was angry, and she had seen him.

Charles stumbled back into the street, causing a passing horse to startle. The commotion distracted him long enough for the women of the whorehouse to pour out into the streets. Charles was quickly surrounded. He screamed for help, but his calls fell on deaf ears.

Never in his life had Charles imagined he might be murdered by a bunch of whores in the middle of the street in the city he had grown up in. He fought against them, but to no avail. Soon his body was torn apart quite literally as the women ripped at him. None of the other men had been killed thus, but Charles it seemed had angered them with his escape. That is where Charles died, and his soul went on to the place souls go after hell is finished.