They always said that curiosity killed the cat. You're just waiting for that death. The pit of your stomach has turned into an open maw, spitting a bloodthirsty venom. That urge, that voice, it towed the line between insuferrable and irresistable. The only thing you want to do now is to get there, but the arteries under the pavement demand otherwise. The blood sinks into the gutters. The blood sinks into you.
You have killed 4 'people'. Your nerves coil further.
What would you like to do?