I have seen quite a lot in my time as a psychiatrist, wandering the streets of London . But this one case in particular, I am unable to forget. It is one of these mysteries of life, which you try to solve, but never manage to.

I was asked to the house of my dear friend Arthur, who I had met many years ago in the old clinic I once worked at, to look after his beloved wife. He had been called away by family to assist them on a rather strange hunting trip that I shall not go into too much detail about.

His wife wasn't in the best condition, as a rather severe illness had taken hold of her, and he wanted to ensure that she was in good hands. I felt rather flattered about the fact that he had chosen me as the right choice for this, but looking back at it now, I wish he had picked someone else.

Once I had arrived at their home, still unaware of why I was chosen to look over his family, I felt a cold shiver running down my spine. The second that I stepped out of my carriage, heavy rain falling down, soaking through my clothing, I had this unshakable feeling that I was watched.

I laughed it off, pretending it to be a trick my old mind was playing on me. But who am I trying to fool? I should've known better.

I spent about a week, visiting every morning and two evenings, making sure that Lorina had everything she needed, in order to take care of herself and the children. I rarely ever spoke to Elizabeth and I never even saw so much as a glimpse of poor Alice. That girl… I wish I could have helped her.

What happened on that night, I cannot say. I left the house as the night drew closer, knowing Arthur would soon return, before the sun would rise once more. I did not want to bother the family that I was so foreign to any longer. But I do know now, I should have investigated the feeling that had gripped me. I should have not just believed my own lies.

I should've known better. They had paid the price.

Please, my friend. Deliver this message for me. Let them know, what I do not dare to question.

Someone has killed them. Someone is to blame. And I want this person to be found.

Your friend and teacher, Lawrence.

The boy slowly put the letter back on the small, wooden table in front of him. He let the backpack he was carrying slide off of his shoulder and fall onto the ground. He put his hand on his chin, gently running his fingers over the few stubble that he still had on him. A quick glance over his shoulder later, he quickly moved to the bed made out of old sheets, which he had placed in the corner of his room and sat down on it.

The boy ran his hand through his shoulder long hair, dark brown hair and sighed heavily as he granted the words he had just read entrance to his mind. He bit his lower lip as he reread the letter inside of his head multiple times, making sure he had understood the message right.

The Liddell have been a subject of great discussion ever since the fire which had destroyed not only their house, but also the entire family itself, except for one.

The young man put his head in his neck and stared at the ceiling for a while, collecting his thoughts on the event and who would do something so down right diabolic. Killing an entire family.

He sighed once more and turned his face towards a small window in the wall next to his bed, which gave him a view out onto the small street behind Owen's old store. He went there every once in a while to help himself to one or two piece of bread and a bottle of water. That's all he really needed.

Of course Lawrence would have punished him for committing something that he had always considered a crime, but now that his teacher hadn't return from his journey in such a long time, he had to find a different way to support his never ending desire to live.

The boy looked back onto the table, fixing his eyes on the letter that Lawrence had sent him and put up a weak smile.

"At least he is still thinking of me." He quietly spoke.

"Do NOT disturb their slumber Samuel!"

"Their eyes! They have no eyes!"

A knock on his door ripped the boy out of his slumber that very same night. His senses heightened, as they always do in moments that put him in great discomfort. He blinked a few times to get his eyes working, before turning his head to the side so that he could keep the entrance to his small room under watch.

Another heavy slam against the door made him jump and he slowly and quietly got up. Trying to avoid making any noise as long as he possibly could, he made his way through the room to his closet in pitch black darkness. There, the boy opened the small door and reached out for an even smaller box inside. Within it he found what he was looking for.

Quickly he wrapped his hand around it, as another bang on the door made him realize that someone was trying to break in, rather than get him to open on his own accord. In one swift motion he turned around, rolled over to the other side of the room and took three quick steps toward the door. All in complete silence.

Just as he had been taught.

With another loud bang, the door broke into many pieces, some of the flying through the air, others just landing on the ground and two men came in.

One was carrying a large club, a thing he clearly didn't bring to fix the boy's sink, with a small knife hanging on a belt which was loosely wrapped around his waist.

The second one was wearing a big, fur-coat. And he was carrying a lantern.

That thing was dangerous, enabling them to spot the boy if he wasn't fast enough.

The second both men had entered and before either was able to notice him, he slipped past them, out of the now broken door and out onto the small stone bridge, connecting his room to a larger tower of Lawrence castle.

As the boy was halfway across the bridge, he heard one of the men behind him yell something. They had seen him.

Quickly he turned to his left, hopped backwards, and reached out with his arms as soon as he felt nothing but air under his feet. Luckily enough he was able to get a hold of the slippery side of the bridge. The rain just did not appreciate his existence.

Knowing that he didn't have long before the two intruders would have reached him, he shut his eyes tight and let go. For a mere second, he was frightened.

The second his foot hit the ground though, he immediately opened his eyes once more and ran as fast as his feet would carry him into the streets of London, disappearing into the night, long before either of his two visitors could make their way out of the castle.