Write a story in the crime genre. It's about a bible salesman and should include a locked door. Also use the sentence 'I will end you for this.' Bonus prompt: Your character is dying.
The snow seemed to be coming down much heavier than it was a few hours ago. The weather man was right for the first time all year it seemed, and as much as Sherwin wanted to smile about such a fact, he simply couldn't. He hated the snow. He hated it more than anything in the entire world. Stepping on legos or spiders invading the basement didn't come close to the thought of bundling up in what seemed like hundreds of layers of coats, sweaters, hats, and gloves. To top it off, he had to wear the shabby cotton scarfs that his wife always bought for him. Damn those itchy scraps of disgustingly golden colored fabrics. The very sight of the things made him groan and cringe, knowing that for the next hour he wouldn't be able to breathe through his mouth or risk getting the fabric wet with spit and sweat.
The man trudged down the street, glancing up occasionally at the dark sky and checking his watch. It seemed like it would only be a matter of time before the thing stopped ticking, the glass covering fogging over as his breath billowed out in clouds from his nose. What did it read? 5:00 in the morning? Damn, this was getting too early. Who in the right mind would accept the job of being a door-to-door salesman, considering that it payed hardly anything at all? Me. I would. Just wish the pastor could pay me a bit more than 'the grace of God', or whatever the hell he said. This time around, Sherwin felt like his bag full of crisp and freshly printed bibles was several pounds heavier. Maybe it was because the covers were made of fine leather with neatly printed letters on the front that read the familiar title of 'Holy Bible'. Ironic that the color of choice for these letters was a bright shining gold. What could be better than a gold title on your desk-side bible? Gold, of course.
Sherwin couldn't stop the train of thoughts he had on finances and riches. Ever since he was diagnosed with colon cancer, his entire world had changed. He hadn't felt panic in his heart like the day the doc wouldn't look him in the eye. The worst part about it was the panic that his family felt... but it wasn't out of pity for him. They were more concerned about the loss of income that came with his eventual death. There was no way they could pick up jobs that would come close to what he had been making. The debts would pile up, the bills would go unpaid, and they would all be homeless by the end of the month for sure. Could he blame them for their fear? Of course I can. This is about me. Not them. I'm the one with the tumors, not them-.
The loud crack of a door slamming open knocked the man from his thoughts. Whirling around, he came face to face with a young woman. She couldn't be more than 24 years old, youth still evident in her wide glassy eyes and slim figure. Her lips were dried and chapped, cracked and bleeding. They seemed to match the rest of her, bruised and scarred up as if she had fell off a cliff of jagged rocks. The two locked eyes for a long while, standing breathless and in shock. Sherwin's eyes dropped lower, seeing that the young lady was barefoot, her skin turning pink as her toes became buried in the snow on the sidewalk. He blinked quickly, noticing that she was without a coat...or gloves or a hat. Hell, she seemed to be wearing nothing at all but shorts and a ragged and ripped t-shirt. His eyes went wide, realizing that he hadn't seen this girl at all in town... perhaps not even in his life. Who the hell was she?
He frowned and took a tentative step forward, reaching a hand out and opening his mouth to speak to her. He couldn't get two words out before he heard a loud shout from inside the house. The young woman cried out and shoved Sherwin hard, his feet slipping out from under him and tumbling straight to the ground. He looked up and watched as he saw her turn on her heel and sprint down the snow covered sidewalk and across the street, leaving foot prints in the snow as she went like rabbit tracks. Sherwin groaned and moved to sit up, frowning heavily when he saw the bibles scattered all over the yard, now surely soaked through enough to make the inked pages bleed into one another.
Before he could assess any true damage to the bibles or to his bones, he felt two strong hands grab him by the back of his coat, heaving him up and throwing him around like a literal rag doll. He howled as he hit the ground a second time, feeling something pop in his left hip, leaving a sharp stinging burn running down his inner thigh. He blinked up through the falling snowflakes to see a large lumbering figure snarling down at him. he brought an arm up to shield himself when he saw the glimmer of steel under the streetlights. A gun. The man was holding a gun. The silver pistol was pointed right at Sherwin's head, and the salesman found himself frozen and unable to move.
"Where is she? Did you let her go?" Sherwin moved his jaw to speak, but no words came out. He sputtered and pointed with his hand, "I-I uh, uh, she-". He stammered quickly before feeling a hard grip on his neck, choking him with the strength pushing on his throat. "You let her go. You let her get away." The barrel of the pistol pressed against Sherwin's forehead, pushing under his hat just enough for it to fall from his head onto the ground. The wind was cold on his ears, snowflakes landing on his cheeks like icy kisses. "I will end you for this."
Sherwin closed his eyes tightly, gripping his hands onto the wrist of his assailant as he waited for the cold to finally leave him.