The woman looks out of the window, she doesn't seem to be interested in the Outside. Tears are running down her cheeks and she strokes monotonously over the window bench. She can't believe what has happened a few days earlier...
The man was running through the cheerless night, he hold the metallic object close to his breast. He had doubts, but no choice. A few moments later he arrived in the Crane Lane in Temple Bar. He stood a few moments in front of the house and wanted to double back, but it was too late: the instructions were unmistakable! His right hand was trembling while he pressed on the bell button. The door opened a bit later and a young woman was standing in front of him. She had long red hair and eyes of emerald green, which looked him partly interrogatory partly impatiently. In another occasion he would have offered a glass of Guinness to her, but his intentions were different. He pushed her hardly and without looking back, entered into the house.
She had no articles of value, so that she started running. Away from this man, away from her house, far, far, far away...
She was breathing heavily.
Her steps echoed on the asphalt.
The man stood in the living room, but there was only a couch, a table, four chairs and lots of photographies on the walls. This woman doesn't have anything valuable. He sifted through the whole house without discovering something. What shall I do now. Jack clearly instructed me to rob out the house number 14, in Crane Lane. There are no doubts! It must be this house! Beads of perspiration were running down his face. He wasn't the right person to mug a house. But he had no choice. Jack was his cousin and the patriarch of the family. His father died three months ago in a car accident. The man had the feeling, that he was the only one who missed his father.
She arrived in St Stephens Green: it was dark and cold. A frisson jogged her. The park was such a lovely place during the day, but as soon as evening begun, it transformed into an uncomfortably and dangerous place. At each corner were oodles of alcohol bottles, the smell of weed mixed with exhaust fumes is hovering in the air. She was afraid by this place, but she was more afraid of returning to her house. She had her destination clearly in mind. The quickest way led straightforwardly through St Stephen' s Green.
The man has returned “home”, if it was possible to call IT like this. It was an uncomfortable place. Everywhere was dust and the air was manifest. Mum has regained her cigarettes! The man looked through the room, he couldn't believe how much their lifestyle had changed since the father died. On the couch, which was yellowed by the tons of smoked cigarettes, sat Jack. He rammed an injection right into his blood vessel. A diabolic smile cut his face into two parts, one more bestial than the other. He clearly was Alan's complete opposite: Jack had short brown hair and piercingly blue eyes, which were entirely empty until he behold his brother. “Alan ... Cousin … How you're doing? What did you get?”, Jack glanced at him like a little child, his eyes sparkled solidly of diabolicalness. Alan harrumphed and tried to avoid looking at Jack. “Yes?”, he asked, much more impatiently, “How......did......the......theft......went?”, he pronounced each syllable with an inhuman clarity. I AM NO CHILD ANYMORE!
“I...I...I”, Alan stuttered, he always felt inferior in Jack's presence. “What I?”, Jack lost his self-control entirely, “You have butchered it. Don't you?”. He didn't wait for Alan's response, but started up from the couch. His left hand sliced through the air and smashed right into Alan's face. “You're not allowed to go!”, whispered Jack.
The woman arrived in the “Psychotherapy Dublin”, the doctor knew her very well. It wasn't her first time in therapy, so there weren't any new questions proposed to her. She simply wanted to know if the occurrences did happen in reality, or if she imagined everything.
“Well Miss McCarthy, what afflicts you today?”, Conan, her psychiatrist, asked. Aoife glanced at the doctor and didn't knew where to start. “Doctor I am doubtful, if the enrolment of today's evening happened in reality or in my imagination. I think that there was a man trying to break into my house. Immediately panic beset me and I fled from the crime scene.”
Conor looked at his patient and said: “Have you taken your pills Miss McCarthy?” - “I am not sure...”, Aoife responded doubtfully, “I can't remember”.
After the usual meeting of one hour doctor McCarthy came to the conclusion that in front of him sat a confused woman, who clearly had forgotten to take her pills against hallucination.
On her return at home Aoife stared at her brother's urn. For unexplainable reasons she seized for the object and stroked over the metallic surface. Her long and thin fingers enclosed the fastener and turned it clockwise to open the urn. Inside didn't lie the ash of her brother, but a mask with short brown hair and a container with a pair of blue contact lenses. Aoife closed the urn and placed it back to the usual place. The letters seemed to glow and her brother's name crabbed into Aoife's mind: JACK