The Chamber

'I'm going to make sure you get put away for this,' Charles said. 'You've gone too far this time, Harrison; I'm going to make sure burn for this.' Kendrick walked forwards and bent down in front of him, his face only inches from the condemned mans. 'You're not gonna be telling anyone anything, my friend. And do you know why? I'll tell you why, shall I … 'Cause you're not gonna be alive for much longer, that's why.' Charles's eyes narrowed to fine slits, his lips pursed tightly together into a fine line. He thrashed about in the seat, swaying from side to side, desperate to break free. Soon realizing that he wasn't going anywhere soon, and deciding to take advantage of Kendrick being so close to him, he did the only thing he could do, the only thing that could give him any morsel of satisfaction: He spat in Kendrick's face. Then he burst out laughing.

'Now that wasn't a very wise thing to do,' Kendrick said, straitening up, pulling a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and wiping his face. 'Not very wise at all.' Charles tittered. 'Maybe not, but it was bloody funny …' Kendrick had heard enough. He kicked him in the chest, his size eleven connecting squarely with Charles's breastbone. Falling backwards, the wind knocked out of him, the smiled wiped off his face, Charles's head smacked against the wet stone floor.