At this point in time, I had two possible choices. The first was to wait three days and go to Parker Alley, the second was to find my wife with help from Percival. That is what I thought about as I sat in my living room directly opposite to Percival, who stayed for a drink. He held his glass in the air and exclaimed, "I drink to forget today ever happened!"

I placed my glass on the wooden table in the middle of the room and I walked into the kitchen saying, "if you want that, then I opened the wrong cupboard."

Being in the kitchen felt strange without Mary. The only time I go in there was with her to talk to Wilfred when he cooked. The door I referred to when talking to Percival was a cupboard at the back of the room that contains what Mary called "the good stuff" which is the way of saying the disreputable drinks, like vodka. The room itself was small only having what it needs to, like an oven.

I approached the cupboard at a surprising speed and swung it open, almost ripping it off to find facing me not alcohol or anything like that, but two blood bags that felt weird to look at. Despite this I took them out and poured each into a separate cup I don't know what I was thinking. I walked slowly towards the main room, avoiding the part of the carpet sticking up near the door that can't be flattened and sat next to Percival.

From the moment I passed him the drink, he was aware of the uncanny feel to it, but he was so desperate for a drink he drank the whole thing in one shot with me. The effects on me weren't as obvious as the first time. However, it was clear it was having that effect on Percival with him immediately and very clearly becoming light headed. With all the significant details of all exposed skin seemingly melting, shifting in painful ways.

When it was done, I had opened my eyes as I had slammed them shut to avoid sickness, but when I reluctantly opened them, in the middle of the room there was a man. Not Percival. This man was tall with pure black eyes, a pulled back hairline and a more exaggerated British accent. "Yes! I can see it all. I'm awake!" He was excited like a child receiving a gift instead of paying for it themselves.

This man's appearance and just general behaviour were somewhat alarming. He seemed to have become a different person with every gesture showing signs of new life. I had a feeling the same was happening to me, but I was blissfully unaware of any side effect. Then finally the drug took hold of me and dragged me back to the alley.

Even though the scene started the same as before, the features of the people were a lot clearer with every cut and mark looking fresh. However, one of the men were missing, the short one leaving only the tall one with scars on her lip. There was some detail on the gentleman waiting at the end of the alleys face, something that disturbed me, shuck me to my bones. They approached each other and exchanged a more positive look this time so it was clear they knew each other.

I was fixed in a trance forced against my will to look. As I had already seen it before, I knew what was going to happen, but there were more words spoken. The man at the end of the alley waved at the other and said, "I'm happy you decided to give me another chance." Then they met in the middle "do you have your gift?" He had already pulled out a bottle of wine. But the other went silent for a while before mumbling, "no I haven't." She asked him to repeat each other for he didn't hear him, or out of disbelief. "No, I haven't." He said louder, but not even that was enough as he was asked to repeat it again. "No, I haven't!" He was just on the line of yelling trying not to be seen. He was pushed to his knees and held down, despite all his struggling there was no hope." Give gifts or take life." She said gleefully as she slid the sword across his throat.

That was when I awoke from the dream sitting on my couch opposite to a sleeping Percival. Quickly waking him up to tell him about what just happened. his dream was a lot shorter than mine. in his dream, he was sitting in his office when someone ran in and shot him five times. His dream was as undescriptive as my first one, but at this point, my biggest concern was his eyes. They had become just like mine a fading blue mixed with red. From that moment it was clear that the blood caused the changes, so I rushed to the mirror and found myself not looking at a high-class detective, but a man with the jaw of an underdeveloped caveman. Even with the changes, I still found myself needing more. The remaining bags called my name and it burned my brain just thinking about it. I managed to hide it as I led Percival out saying, "Can you visit Harry tomorrow? I will join you, just need to talk to an old friend."