You walked the streets of London, carrying a heavy bag. It was your photography equipment; you used to photograph pieces in a nearby museum. At first, it was just a silly hobby. But you turned it into a profession that brought you benefits, participating in many exclusive exhibitions, and in your free time, painting or writing about your journey.

On the way home, you saw a group of young men. They were all chatting, young, and just enjoying their youth like any other man. Turns out, that's exactly what you thought. They were having fun, until you crossed their path. You felt a hole form in your back, with their stares and the sudden silence.You were afraid, it was late at night, there was no movement, and if you tried to seek help, the only police department was an hour away from where you were.

You didn't react to the drunken men's compliments and flirtations, just prayed that you'd get home safely. Until you hurried your steps, approaching a nearby train station. Empty, silent. You waited for the next train, which would arrive in a few moments, but the hours seemed frozen. Until you heard something behind you. Blood, a pale figure has observed, just handing him a bunch of keys, it was his, but... How?

"You dropped it." The deep voice echoed, and he adjusted his hat, revealing his face, brown eyes, and a pale complexion. The only thing giving him life was his newly flushed cheeks. Probably and certainly because of the extreme cold that was now. He simply adjusted his uniform and took a few steps to the side. It looked like he was waiting for the train too, you shouldn't trust him, not yet.