Cold blood (first Draft)

Where do Angeles Fear to Tread?

When we made it upstairs, Percy was allowed to leave. It had been a long night. When he left, Mary went upstairs to go to sleep, but I stayed downstairs and had a drink. Wilfred told me, "I've remade the synthetic blood. Hopefully this time it works." He stood up and walked into the kitchen to get a glass. He returned not long after with a glass full of the synthetic blood and gave it to me. "When you drink it, tell me how it makes you feel, how it tastes, and anything else." Given what happened the last time I drank this, I was not the most excited, but there was always the chance it might work, so I took the glass from him and drank it. The drink was cold enough to turn my hand numb just from touching the glass and it was a darker shade of red, but it had an unrecognizable taste. The only thing that mattered was if I liked it or not, I did. When I stood up,  however, I lost balance, collapsed to the floor, and my chin hit the table. I was dreaming.

Everything went quiet as it came into focus slowly with gusts of wind knocking bags around. When I stood up, I found myself in an ally watching as a figure approached quickly.  I yelled, "Who are you? Why do you haunt my dreams?" The figure arrived and took one look at me. I said trying to understand, "I don't even know who you are.  There is no reason for you to be here." It spoke, and despite the state of my nerves, the voice was calming and recognizable. "Chin up, eyes forward," a knife was placed to my neck, "It'll all be over soon." I felt the drips of cold blood drip down my chest and land on the floor. I soon followed. The stranger walked away. When I woke up moments later, I wasn't in that dirty alleyway. I was in a restaurant sitting at a round table with Harry, Percy and Mary. They were all laughing "what's the joke?" They all stopped and looked at me with an unfamiliar stare. It looked like they didn't want me there. "Hello, Rory. Are you enjoying your soup?" There was a bowl in front of me full of soup mushroom from the look and smell of it, but I didn't want to eat any of it. They kept eating bite by bite it was uncomfortable. We were Being served by Wilfred for some reason. He approached the table with a tray and a latter on top, he placed to tray on the table and said, "I have a message for a Turner, Rory Turner."
"Oh, that's me." The letter said;
"Dear Rory Turner
I know the past few days have been tough given the situation with your friends and wife, but your story is nearly over. The life of Rory Turner shall be remembered throughout time, but only you can decide how you will be remembered. You were not always a good man, but you were never a bad person. You look down on the poor and corrupt, but you are just like the rest, but with a shiny name and a silver spoon. How will you be remembered the corrupt cop or the loving husband? The friend to all or the man who ended so many lives? Only time will tell. The only question left to ask is will people mourn your loss as an honest man or celebrate the death of a monster, a wolf in sheep's clothing?"
I put the letter down, "Was there a sender?"
"No, it was left at the door with your name on it." The words were written in red ink and were clunky joined up writing like they were trying to be neat but had to rush. I put the letter back in its envelop and place it in my jacket. I then picked up my wine glass to take a sip, "why does this taste like copper? I mean I like it, but I thought it was red wine."
"Remember you brought your own drink from home. At first, they didn't let you but you convinced them to." We were ready to leave when I saw Sophie sitting on the table next to me. "Hello."
"Oh, hi Rory, this is my husband Joel bell." She was sitting next to a guy he had black hair, blue eyes, and messy teeth. He offered a handshake,  "Hello Mr Turner I've heard a lot about you."
"That's funny, I haven't heard anything about you."
"What do you mean? I thought Sophie would have told you about me."
"The only thing she mentioned was the facts that you were a doctor."
"Really." He said curiously, "Anyway it was a pleasure to meet you in person."
"You too. Now I must leave." I made my way out of the restaurant, pushing the door open to find the word was pitch black.