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Magdalene opened the door, her tear streamed cheeks and red eyes and nose peering around the door. The man stood there waiting for the old lady to recognise him. He watches understanding dawn upon the old ladies face with satisfaction.
“Oh” she exclaimed, “but how did you know where to come?” her thick accent stiff with suspicion told the stranger this would be no easy job.
He decided to take things slowly, proceed with caution. “We have ways and means Mrs…”He saw an index of names flash through his brain like a computer. With barely a pause he continued “Dulcey, as I’m sure you can imagine.” He saw something like fear flash across the old withered face for only a second. Now she gazed up at him stubbornly, pokers face in place. “So?” she demanded.He raised his eyebrows. “So what?” “So, what are you going to do about it? I’m sure you have “”ways and mean”" far greater than me! What can I tell you? Nothing, that’s what,. What do you want from me? Why are you outside my front door?” defiance radiated from the wizened old lady like radiation.
The stranger bristled. “we just want to talk to you.” “The hell you do! I’ve got nothing for you!” and with that she pushed the door. Quick as a flash the man had his foot in the way, stopping the door closing. Before Mrs. Dulcy could even cry out, he was in and already closing the door behind him.
With one swift movement the man had his hand over the old ladies mouth, restraining her. It didn’t take much. She resisted only slightly. The stranger told himself it has to be done. It was better when they begged, pleaded or fought out. But this defiant old lady he regretted. He quietly laid her soft saggy body on the dark dirty carpet. No one would know for hours. Day’s maybe? It had to be done, he told himself. His mental index is flashing across his eyes again. Old lady dealt with. He moved on down the dark, dated hallway, new agenda fresh in his mind.Past the first door on the right, no movement, no signs of life. Past the first door on the left. He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck rising, trying to shake off his unease he approached the door on the right.
This was the one, he knew it. It was the only door that way closed. Fluttering butterflies of unease and fear were trickling through his stomach from the darker regains of his brain. He saw a harnd reaching out to open the door and recognised it as his own. He felt as if this was not real. So long he had waited for this moment. The hand was now twisting the doorknob as if on auto pilot. He wasn’t sure if he was ready yet. Did he really want to know? There was no turning back if he opened that door. He was about to find out everything. The truth, no more lies. But he didn’t know if he wanted to know the truth. Could he handle it? All these years of searching and plotting and of blood sweat and tears and here he way. He was about to know at last. With no more hesitation he swung the door open wide, and stepped in.