[center][img=http://i1359.photobucket.com/albums/q799/snugglyoranges/gifs/tumblr_m8vv4atZo31r9ixyz.gif][/center] "This is hopeless." Henry exclaimed after about an hour and a half of constantly going to house-after-house, giving them the same old spiel and not selling a dime's worth of candles. Everyone either wished they could, had to get gas in the car, had to pick up groceries, or some other pathetically poor excuse for not just forking over five dollars and being done with it. Before he could say anything else, however, Henry felt his phone buzz in his pants pocket. Pulling it out, he flipped it open, a flashing envelope on the screen signaling a text message. "It's Faye...she sold...36 candles! Impressive!" Henry commended with a cheery smile. "It isn't enough." Mark replied bluntly, not sharing in the excitement. "What do you suggest we do then?" Henry asked the fireman inquisitively, placing his hands in his coat pockets. "We tell the nuns we failed. There's no way we can sell the rest of these in time. The best we can do now is let the Sisters hear the news from a friendlier face than Mr. Gold's." He finished, sounding....sad, disappointed. [i]'Right, because you're *so* much friendlier...'[/i] Henry thought to himself with a small smirk twitching at the edge of his lips. Fortunately for him, though, Mark didn't seem to notice as he turned back in the direction of the nunnery. Henry followed quietly, a feeling of dread seemed to loom over the both of them like a cloud. Henry wasn't even sure if [i]he'd[/i] be able to break the news to the nuns...that they were now, for all intents and purposes, finished. The front view of the nunnery came into Henry's sight far sooner than he would have liked. Mark scratched the top of his head for a moment as the both of them simply stood there, as if daring who would take the first step. The both of them finally began the painfully short trek up the stairs after a few moments of waiting, Mark pulling open the door and holding it for Henry before walking in themselves. "Um, excuse me...?" Mark called out to one of the passing nuns, Sister Astrid as she walked past. "Y-yes? How can I help you, Mr. Dufresne?" The nun asked politely, stammering ever-so-slightly. "Who do we talk to about selling the candles?" Mark inquired in a neutral tone, not even willing to fake a smile right now. "Oh! You'll want to talk to Sister Charlotte, she's just down that hall - first room to your left." Sister Astrid informed with a sweet smile, prompting Mark and Henry to do the same - though theirs seemed heavy, burdened. "Thank you, Sister." Mark said warmly before following her direction down the hall and to the left, Henry closely in tow. The two of them entered a small, modest room of the nunnery; large windows beamed in the afternoon sunlight, a few bookshelves placed about the room itself - filled with religious allegories and documents. A small folding table was placed at the front of the room where a lithe, petite young woman; no older than 20 was looking through a few papers and folders, her face hidden as she was looking downwards. "Are you Sister Charlotte?" Mark asked politely, though quietly, afraid of disturbing any possible business she was working on. The young woman looked up from her current occupation, a small smile crossing her lips as she saw the two men - and in that very moment, Henry's face paled to the color of white paper. "Yes, how can I help you?" The nun asked in a voice that was nothing less than sweet; soft and lovely. Henry's breath caught in his throat, and he stumbled backwards slightly; as if he was seeing a ghost. The dark brown hair that was currently kept in a tight bun, those lively gray eyes that emanated sympathy and kindness, the [i]voice[/i]. "Alice..." Henry managed to say, just above a whisper, his eyes never leaving hers. "Alice? Who's that?" Sister Charlotte asked, looking quite confused. "Are you feeling alright, sir?" She questioned with a look of concern in her eyes...those eyes. She approached him slowly to try and defuse the situation. "Stay away!" Henry exclaimed sharply, jolting back as if hit by an electrical shock, hugging onto the door-frame like it was a lifeline. Tears now actively streamed down his face as he tried so hard to look away from the ghost's face...his sister's face. Mark turned to look at Henry, his eyes narrowed in a mixture of confusion and concern. "Henry....calm down. What's the problem?" He asked seriously, but in a reasoning tone. Without saying another word, Henry rushed out of the room in an instant. He needed to be alone - needed to hide... He blindly pushed through the doors to the restroom, which was, fortunately single-person only. He slammed and locked the door behind him, letting his anguish out as he sobbed uncontrollably into the sink, tears falling like raindrops from his reddened face, his shoulders racking and his legs feeling as though they'd give out at any moment. Emotion overcame him, and in a blind fury - both at himself and....someone, [i]anyone[/i] else - he turned and slammed his fist into the tile wall with as much force as he could possibly muster. The blow was enough to rattle the mirror that hung just above the sink, the pain finally being the tipping point in Henry falling down to the ground entirely. He curled up into a tight ball, ignoring the resounding pain that resonated from his cut and bleeding hand, choosing to run, to hide, to cower. Just as he did all those years ago: when she [i]died[/i]... -- Both Mark and Sister Charlotte were dumbfounded when Henry ran away in a slight panic. "Let him go...he needs to deal with something." Mark said somberly as Sister Charlotte made a move to go after him. The young nun nodded slowly in understanding, looking quite worried herself. "I do hope he's okay..." She said, concern practically dripping off her voice. "He will be..." Mark replied, though there wasn't much confidence in his voice. "We, uh...*I* came to tell you that...we can't sell all the candles." He confessed quietly, hanging his head like a hound about to be scolded harshly. "Oh...oh my..." Sister Charlotte said quietly, placing a single hand over her mouth in shock - the full realization, that the nunnery would become bankrupt hit her, but the pain...the sadness would come later. "We tried everything we could...but we only managed one box and three individual candles." Mark added sadly, rubbing his hands over his face slowly. "I'm sorry." He said, sounding quite miserable. "No...no, don't be. You did what you could." Sister Charlotte reassured quietly, her eyes beginning to mist. "That's all anyone could have asked from you, Mr. Dufresne - it just wasn't....meant to be. I know the Lord has bigger, wider paths for us." She finished, hopefully, trying to brighten the situation in the slightest. Mark, deciding to do something he hadn't in a very long time, pulled the young nun into a tight hug, both for her sake and his. It was over - Gold had won.