After Wilfred had made my bed, in a way only he knows how I laid my tired head to rest reaching for this supposed blood substance. I treated it like any other blood bag, tearing the top off and drinking it like the short plastic tube sticking from the top was a straw. My initial thought when it first past my lips was the similar taste between this and wine followed only briefly by a hint of regret.

However, when it first slid down my throat my fingertips felt a numbing feeling like a drug putting me to sleep. Then it all just went dark. There was a strange repetitive sound almost like a hum, but it changed in pitch and volume. It was about ten o'clock when I fell fully under its influence. It was an oddly freeing experience as all fear and hatred went, like a weight lifted from my shoulder.

As the sound got louder and the gaps in between got shorter, I noticed in the darkness some shapes beginning to move, the phantoms of a sleep-deprived mind. The shadows grew, forming the scene of the alley from so long ago. There were three faceless gentlemen walking, one with a cane cracked from top to bottom, and a half ripped top hat covered a patch of leather. The man to his left was a bit shorter than I expected, but his clothing was neater than his friends. He had no other special features.

They were approaching the third gentlemen waiting at the top of the alley for them, this one was interesting as I couldn't get a good look at him due to the fact that every time I tried I felt sick. There was something wrong with his appearance but I didn't know what. When they met in the middle of the alley they exchanged silent glares. Soon after, they were all passing one item to each other except the third gentleman who received a bottle of wine but didn't give his gift.

The man with the cane was clearly angry, he grabbed the handle of his cane and slowly pulled out a sword, "Why didn't you bring anything?" At this point, with his sword pressed against the man's throat, it was safe to assume he had lost all patients and like me wanted to leave. "Give gifts, or take life," he said with a menacing grin as he slit the man's throat.

When I awoke with trembling hands, I was surprised at the time, but what surprised me more was the sight of the doctor and my wife standing around the bed. My wife turned to face one of them, "He's awake now." It seems they didn't notice. The substance had stained my shirt and pants, my hands were a disturbing pale colour, and all the exposed vain on both my hands and my wrist were a sickly green.

One of the doctors, a tall man with a poorly shaved beard, a full set of hair that was ginger, approached me lying in bed and took my temperature. The look on his face was almost a joke. He took a few notes down in a bright blue notebook with pages of other less significant notes. From what I could tell upon drinking the substance I started talking about giving gifts to save the lives of others.

There was one thought that repeated itself in my mind. Did that really happen? It seemed to feel strangely real, similar to some reports often found in the cabinet for solved cases. After a while, even that thought had melted away as the biggest concern was the cost of the doctors, so I very weakly called my wife over and whispered in her ears, "How much did you say you would pay these fine gentlemen?" She just did a sort of half-attentive laugh.

I didn't have enough energy to get up, but I wasn't tired enough to sleep so after I asked them to leave and called Wilfred into the room as I had heard him before. "Is there anything you need master?"He seemed happier, more energetic, more hopeful. Until he got a better look at me, the look of abject terror on his face made me rush towards the nearest mirror. There was something wrong with my eyes.

There was a melted red tint in the middle spreading slowly. "What's happening to my eyes?!" I yelled at him, demanding to know "what was in that thing I drank?!" But he didn't give an understandable response, he just said, "I took regular blood and ran it through a molecular harmonizing tube." The only response I could think of was "What?"

"I don't know. I'm just a butler." However, as I could walk, I got up, got dressed, and left the house hoping a quick walk would fix it.