Nadir stepped into the house of his friend and glanced around, taking in the feeling of it all. Amazingly enough, the house was in good shape, which meant that either Erik was no longer under the influence of drugs, Erik kept his house in good shape, or Erik hadn't lived here long enough to destroy the place.
Being led to the living room, Nadir stared at the beauty and majesty of the house, thinking that this was the reason why his friend had bought the house. Opening his mouth to voice his thought, Erik hushed him and told him that no, he had not bought it for its looks. Stunned, the Persian rolled his eyes and continued to follow the owner of the house.
Soon enough, they reached the living room and took seats across from each other. Erik stared at his guest as latter the twiddled his thumbs, looking and studying everything in the room except for the man sitting in front of him. Astonished and completely annoyed that someone could waltz into his house and then decide not to do anything, the house owner broke the silence saying, "Daroga, if you simply wish to waste my time, I would advise that you leave this instant."
The Persian man turned to face him, slightly baffled – hadn't Erik been the one who sent the letter? - before standing up. He took his coat and shrugged it on. Briskly striding to the door, he opened it, stepped out, and slammed it shut. His friend could only look on as he marched down the front path and through the gate.
Erik hung his head in annoyance. What had compelled that idiot to come all the way from the city of Paris to the small town of Boscherville, just to sit and do nothing at all? Standing up, he walked to his humble piano and began to play.
He played through music of all types – Bach, Beethoven, Mozart – and just as he began Bach's Prelude in C, he was disturbed by a sharp wrap on the door. Continuing on with playing, he closed his eyes in anger. Why had the Daroga decided to come back? Well, he definitely wasn't going to be let back in, that was for sure.
Another knock came, and many more followed, making it impossible for Erik to keep playing. Standing up, he strode to the door and with much aggravation, wrenched the door open. His eyes bulged as he saw that it wasn't the Daroga. In fact, the person was the farthest thing from him.
The person standing at the door was none other than Erik Aucoin. The other Erik - the one who had opened the door - stood silent, almost gawking at the boy. However, it wasn't the boy himself that the man was shocked at. It was the tattered clothing and singed skin and hair that surprised him. There were burns all over his skin, but the worst of it was all over his face. He looked at the older man with a certain helplessness that one only feels when his life is about to come to an end, and promptly crumpled to the ground.
It wasn't worth checking for a pulse. Erik knew the boy was dead as soon as he hit the ground. If the pale skin and burn marks weren't dead giveaways, the lack of movement from the chest that signified breathing was.
Without another thought, the man began running as fast he could in the direction of the child's house. Already he could see the smoke coming from where the house was.
Sorry, once again! I've had a huge case of writer's block, but yeah, you guys all probably hate me! It won't happen again, (I hope)!
I'm looking to finish this story soon. Maybe later I can make a sequel, but that'll be after I finish up the other stories. Don't want to fall back on those, do I?
:D I love leaving you all with cliffhangers...