Not as old as it could be, but he refuses. The cane. Any noticeable limp. They've changed what can't be undone, he refuses to give them any more inches than they've blooded him of already.



"Sometimes. Mine took me from the doorway of a .. bedroom."

The third upstairs, but who was counting, really. He lived alone, in suffocating opulence. He liked to just barely pretend it was an art room. If that was laughable too, when the art displayed was a gruesome horror show.