The door to the Main Room was shut by John, who had just put Urien back to bed to rest. The night was slowly falling upon them, and a serious conversation was about to be had between the two workers of this building.

  “Look at me, over here. I’m serious.” – John had started the conversation with such a bold statement with an almost angry tone which could be heard in his voice. Woodfield had still not, at this point, taken off his mask in front of John. They believed in the rules of privacy even if their moral values didn’t seem to be upheld as highly. Why I am mentioning it now is because, in the moment John had said such words in such a tone to Woodfield, Woodfield felt the need to show him underneath his mask and show him how serious he was as well. This event was also, in hindsight, remembered by John as the moment Woodfield had the need to let John know that he could without a doubt, trust him.

  Woodfield took off his mask and behind the long plague – doctor like mask, which was covering his face, stood an aged face which looked to be like in its late twenties, with a stitch which was located above and below his left eye. This scene shocked John so much that he felt at the same time as amused as he was disgusted by the face in front of him. His face looked half dead, like a broken mans’.

  “The rules state you cannot do that, so why you had the need to do such a thing in a hundred years I couldn’t understand. You look so dead, so full of hate, but your words are so soft and delicate, you speak like an angel, so what is this I am looking at? What happened to your face? Is this recent?” – John was full of questions, and he couldn’t hold it together as much as he would’ve liked to. Woodfield, who was looking at him, smiled for a second and even let out a relieved chuckle of some sorts. It was clear to John that Woodfield was trusting enough of him to break the rules in their workplace in front of him. The Main Room was one of the few which did not contain a camera inside of it, so he was safe in doing so.

  “I want you to trust me. Well, not want, as it is a need. I NEED you to trust me, John. I am serious too – and sorry, but this conversation I will take into my lead. So, what better way to do that is there if not opening up about our “real” lives? And don’t worry, my friend, as I will start myself. Maybe I don’t remember a lot, maybe. But this scar on my head, I am forced to look at every day. So, listen to my story, dear friend, as it is one of pure agony.” John was listening to these words of Woodfield, but he was nervously pacing around the room as if he was worried about something.

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  “I am listening, don’t mind me, I just can’t stand “standing” in one place.” – replied John to him.

  “It all started, my friend, in the year 1991. Well not exactly, but these events I am about to tell you of. This was when I was twenty, and I had freshly married to whom I thought was the undeniable love of my life. Her name was Caroline, and you see, Caroline was a special lady. Special in the sense that her short black hair and soft lips could make you fall in love with her just from hearing stories about her... She was a wild one, that’s for sure – and in no way was I unaware of such a fact. It was exactly that which I had loved about her. She wasn’t scared to do anything, and she was always extra in everything, and I mean everything – the way she walked, the way she talked, and the way she handled men who were in such blind love with her. If you haven’t picked up by now, I was a victim of the latter...” – this last sentence Woodfield uttered as if he was not proud of himself for saying it out loud. It was clear to John that these words were of the truth and sincere nature.

  “Sorry, I, I’m listening. Do continue.” – said John, all while looking around the many cabinets of the Main Room.

  Woodfield had continued: “Now, how was I a victim, you are probably asking? Well, me and her, we were a part of a gang with a long history... Not even a “gang”, many were calling us a “terrorist group” back then for the things that we were doing, her, me, and a couple more of friends all of whom I haven’t heard from in a long while. But the details of that group, and our adventures, I am afraid, I am in no position to describe. Not only because I can barely remember them, but also because that is not the focus point of my current story. Anyways, to continue... Me and Caroline were two sweethearts in love, at a time in history where it wasn’t the best idea. People are nowadays calling that, well, meeting in the right place, but at the wrong time... She was a great wife, and we had our money, sure, we weren’t starving. Hell, far from it.”

  John smirked. “So, you had a beautiful wife, and money which could pay off all your future generations debts. I fail to see how any of this connects to the stitches on your face, this sounds like a perfect life, Woodfield.”

  “The money was the root of the problem, John. In a way, you do see the way it connects. Let me explain.” Woodfield had continued to talk of the little previous life he remembered. Seeing as John had remembered almost nothing, hearing Woodfield talk so much was a nice surprise to him.

  “All that money, unfortunately, it made Caroline go crazy. Crazy with power, and crazy with obsession. She had become so obsessed with it, she couldn’t go anywhere without a larger sum of it, and material items were a big part of everything that she had cared about on this earth... One evening, when I had tried to ease her mind, after she had lost a little amount of it while coming back home to our apartment, such an indescribable rage hit her suddenly. That money, it broke her.”