[ WP ] Write an incredibly hateable character who is n't explicitly evil or antagonistic .

Frank pounded on the door, desperation setting in. 
 
 He panted heavily, his hand beginning to bruise from the knocking. He yelled to the door. 
 
 `` Hello! Please! I know someone's in there, please let us in...'' 
 
 More knocks. 
 
 Crickets droned on loudly in the distance, but beyond that the dusk air was still. Ominously still, as though the world itself were holding its breath, uncertain. 
 
 `` Daddy?'' One of the children began, the middle of the three. `` Why wo n't he open the door?'' 
 
 `` Please, Samantha, I'm trying,'' Frank said, his voice cracking with exhaustion. He turned back to the door. 
 
 `` For the love of God, I have children with me...'' 
 
 Suddenly, from within, a hesitant voice spoke. 
 
 *Go on your way, mister, I ca n't open the door. * 
 
 `` Please, I'm begging of you...'' Frank's voice was on the verge of sobs now, and his children were now similarly panicked. `` There are walkers near.'' 
 
 *I'm aware, why do you think the door is barricaded shut? * 
 
 `` I can help you defend, just please take in the girls...'' 
 
 *Goddamn it you know I ca n't do that, go on your way! * 
 
 `` But they're just children!'' 
 
 *Children who could be carrying the sickness themselves! * 
 
 The voice behind the door paused, anguish creeping into his voice. 
 
 *I- I just- I ca n't take that risk. I ca n't. I have my own skin to look out for. * 
 
 ``... Please...'' Frank said, now with the steady tone of a man truly without options. 
 
 `` I.... I do n't know what else to say. Please.'' 
 
 The man behind the door was silent. 
 
 The crickets in the area suddenly stopped, and suddenly, footsteps: multiple sets, moving fast. 
 
 A scream was heard in the distance, a woman's wail. A bird flew away in panic. 
 
 Frank's eyes widened as he realized time was nearly out. He looked to his children and found new strength, ramming his bruised and bloodied fists into the door. 
 
 `` Let them in, damn you! Damn you to hell, let my daughters in!'' He screamed, throwing his weight against the door. The frame began to creak, and the wood started to give. 
 
 Suddenly, the sound of footsteps was drowned out with the sudden *bang* of a gunshot. Wood chips splintered out from the center of the door, and Frank sat backwards, hands moving to his chest. He looked to his children and met their gaze, holding it for a moment, before falling over backwards. 
 
 As the children ran to their father, the lonely man watched through the bullet hole in the door, sobbing at the horrible decision he had to make. Ears still ringing, he stood up to slide the book case back infront of the door, and wiped a tear from his eye as he extinguished his only lantern. The runners were coming, and he had to be ready.
