I hold tight to Agnes' elbow as we cross the street. She hates coming to the core, but today she's made an exception for me.

"I told you I don't need a silly C-23!" She waves the government form in the air and smiles up at me, "Did you hear that doctor? Fit as a fiddle."

"Aggie, that's not exactly what he said…" I look down at the feeble hand that holds tight to me for support and can't help but feel frustrated that she'll have to spend another Murder Day alone, "He just said you'd be okay for another year or two."

"Sweetie, I'm sure that's all I've got left anyway," She laughs, which makes her cough and I pat her back.

"Come on old lady, we're going to miss our bus."

"Oh you know I don't like those smelly things, and I hate being here, all these towers block out the sun," She gestures towards the homes of the super rich and I see a harshness in her eyes that I've never noticed before.

"Well, there's not a whole lot we can do about it Agnes, other than get home as quickly as possible, the sun should be down in a few hours."

Agnes doesn't say anything, I feel her hand let go of my arm and her path strays from mine. For a moment I don't even realize she's gone until I turn to see her at a rusted chain link gate in a thick concrete wall. She lifts her hand and her fingers grip onto the fence, she smiles over her shoulder at me and motions with her head for me to join her, "I want to show you something."

With a heavy sigh I join her and she puts an arm around my waist, "Agnes, we really do need to catch our bus."

"This is where it happened you know," Agnes nods her head to the structure on the other side of the wall, it's huge and clearly attached directly to the spires over head.

"What do you mean? What happened here?"

"This is a support structure, a rather integral one at that."

"Yeah, I knew that…kinda…" I try to pull her away, warning her once again about our bus's impending arrival.

"This is where Bernard died," As Agnes' face shifts into a painful and distant expression, my sense of urgency melts away, I run a hand through my hair and come closer to her.

"I'm sorry Agnes…"

"Sorry for what?" She smiles and I'm convinced she must be confused again, "I've told you before, Bernard was a brave man, I was proud of him that day and I'm still proud of him now."

"Why are you so proud?" 

"I've never told you about Bernard's death have I?" I shake my head and she sighs, "They called him a terrorist you know, but I knew he was just a brave and angry man who'd tried everything else he could think of."

"What do you mean? What did he do?" Suddenly my image of Bernard is shifting, I never expected him to be the type of man who would be labeled a terrorist.

"He made a bomb…he always was making things you know, an excellent inventor right up until the day he died."

"A bomb?" 

"It was the year Gloria turned eighteen, it was her first murder day and no matter what I said I couldn't keep her inside. All she wanted to do was be exactly like her father…ever since the day she was born she was always following him around…they truly loved each other…" 

"Gloria…" I repeat the name and recall the photo of the little girl in Agnes' album, the only person in the entire book about whom she'd told me nothing.

"Bernard strapped that bomb right onto this support structure and boom!" Her hands wave in the air and she smiles like an excited child, "He took down three spires…hundreds of the elite died, but it didn't change a thing…"

"Agnes, you always taught me it was braver not to celebrate, that killing was killing no matter what day of the year it is…"

"I guess I have taught you that…" She turns to me and slowly nods, "Well, there are exceptions to every rule I'm afraid, Bernard thought he was righting a wrong, he couldn't see any other way to get the decision makers to see the error of their ways. They sit up there in the sky, blind to our plight…how could they possibly understand what Murder Day does to us if they never experience it?"

I see Agnes in a whole new light now; all my life I've imagined her to be perfect, an angel in an otherwise hellish world. Deep down inside, though, she's effected by the same anger and hopelessness that we all struggle with. Despite her lofty ideas of good versus evil, she too is just looking for a way out.

"What about Gloria?" I ask, "What happened to her?"

Agnes stares at me with unreadable eyes, her face is still and stoic as she reaches out to touch my face, "We should get going I think, we don't want to miss our bus."

----

I slip through the crowd of people that fill the sidewalk, I don't have to look over my shoulder to know I'm still being followed. Calloway's men don't give up easily, they've been hunting me for months and I know they won't stop until they've got me. Reginald wouldn't be happy if he knew I was outside, he's been keeping me in his condo, I'm a promising young protege and he doesn't want to risk losing me.

I just had to go see him though, the man, my target. It took me a while to admit it, but Reginald and his wife were right, I'm thirsty for revenge and they want to help me get it. My obsession has only grown stronger over time, and I've been itching to get a look inside the man's house. I want to know everything about him, I want to know about the life I'll snuff out before doing so, I want to know he'll be missed.

Ducking down a messy alley, I break into a run and come out on the other side, listening to the feet behind me. My followers want to hurt me, I know that, but they won't kill me. Calloway wants her money, or her drugs, and if she can't get them she'll be happy with torturing me no doubt. I can only imagine the vicious things she'll do to me if I'm caught and it makes my heart pound against my rib cage.

With little thought, I turn down a side street and instantly bump into a woman, "Hey, watch it!" She says, but smiles when she recognizes me, "I can't believe it's you! You're alive!" Moira holds out her arms for me, she's holding a bible and wearing a long, hooded brown jacket. Without thinking I strip it off of her as she protests.

"Shut up would you?" I command as I throw the coat over my shoulders and raise the hood, "Let me know when they've moved on."

She shakes her head, unsure of what I'm talking about until she catches a glimpse of the two broad shouldered men who have been following me. She looks into my eyes and bites her lip, I don't have to say anything for her to know I'm in danger and she quickly opens the bible and starts reading to me as if I'm a perspective convert. With very little discretion she peers past my head again and I can tell she's watching the men disappear in their hunt for me.

"What are you doing?" She slams the bible closed finally and puts her hands on her hips, "Those men work for Calloway don't they? What's going on? Where have you been?"

"It's a long story," I say and pull her down another street, handing her jacket back to her.

"Well I've been worried! After you were dragged out by that Inspector you never came back! I thought you were locked up, or dead! How dare you not get in touch!"

"Look Moira, I don't have time for this" I shake my head, looking around to figure out where we are. The man's house isn't far from here, just a couple blocks.

"I've been in your building twice a week since you've disappeared, every time I stopped to see if you were home yet."

"In my building?" I stop for a second, keeping an eye out for Calloway's men, "Why?"

Moira sighs and rolls her eyes at me, "How many times do I have to tell you about my prayer sessions with the shut in?"

"Oh, right," I wave a hand and keep moving, hoping she'll leave me be but I know that won't happen.

"He's been worried about you too you know, he said he's never really spoken to you but he's noticed you're not around."

"Whoopie for him," I could really care less about a nutcase of an old shut in.

"Where are you going?"

"Nowhere."

"Don't lie to me! I know where we are, you're going to his house aren't you?"

"Shh!"

"Well you are, aren't you?" She asks in a quieter voice. I don't answer her, I just keep walking and she stays close behind me, "Why would you do that? What's it going to accomplish?"

"I'm just…looking around, collecting information and stuff."

"Why? What are you planning?"

I stop walking and look at her, I know she can see it in my eyes. I've changed since we last saw each other, even I see it when I look in the mirror.

"I want in," She finally says, putting a hand on her stomach.

"What? Why?"

"You know I have my reasons."

"But you hate Murder Day, you hate violence!"

"So do you."

There's a moment of silence between us, I don't want to get her into trouble and I definitely don't want to see her get hurt again but…I could use a look out, "Fine! But you're staying outside."

We get to the man's house and I can sense Moira's fear rising. This is the first time she's come back to this place since it happened and I don't know how she's going to handle it, "Will you be long?" She asks me.

"No, just stay here okay?" I pull her to the side of the house, there's a scraggly looking bush underneath a first storey window and I force her to kneel behind it, "If you see him coming, yell in through the window and get the heck out of here."

She nods at me and I search for something heavy, grabbing a large rock I quickly toss it through the air and the window smashes. With my sleeve pulled over my hand I clear the bits of broken glass that protrude from the frame and hoist myself up into the house.

"May the Lord watch over you," She mumbles and I roll my eyes.

The man's house isn't really anything special, it's not too clean and not too dirty, the furniture is worn and old and the paint on the walls is faded and dull. I move from the living room to the kitchen, searching through drawers and stopping to examine the fridge. There isn't a single photograph stuck to the white door, no love notes, post cards or even bills. This guy must not lead a very exciting life.

I find a flight of stairs and they creak as I climb up to the second floor. I find the man's bedroom and peek my head in, there are clothes on the floor and the bed spread is askew, it smells like body odour and cigarettes. I hold my breath and start searching through drawers and the pockets of pants that have been tossed onto the floor. Still there's nothing personal, no sign of any sort of connection to the outside world.

In one corner there's a door that I assume leads to a closet, the space inside is small and empty, which seems curious. I step inside the claustrophobic space and see a line of dull light seeping in through the back corner.

With bated breath, I reach out and push against the wall. With a click, it swings open and I feel my curiosity bubbling inside me. What is this secret space? What could a man with so little personality have to hide back here? I step through the doorway created by the fake wall and my jaw drops open as I examine the room.

Every inch of the dull paint has been covered with photographs and maps. I recognized the routes drawn onto each map, and as I step closer to the photographs I recognize the subject of each; me. Every single photo is of me, entering my apartment building, or working with Moira, or just walking down a busy street. This man has been watching me for years, but why?

Reaching out, I grab hold of one old and ratty looking photo. My parents are staring back at me, it's the first time I've seen their faces in years. After their deaths I purged myself of them, I remember tossing this exact photo into the dumpster behind my building.

As I'm lost in the room full of me, decorated solely in images of my life and records of my travels, I barely hear the sound of footsteps creaking up the stairs. I catch my breath and reach out to close the secret wall behind me, cursing myself for coming to this place.

I hear the footsteps enter the bedroom and stop, I've left such a mess in my wake that I know he knows I've been here, my only hope is if he decides I've already left. I hear heavy boots walking around the room and imagine him checking his drawers and dirty clothes, piecing together the scene.

I hear him come towards the closet and my heart is pounding in my chest. Can he hear it? Can he hear the sound of my frightened little heart as it begs to be free of this place? Maybe he can smell fear, I've already discovered that I know less about this man than I ever could have imagined. The thought of Moira flits through my mind, why didn't she warn me he was here? Did he find her already, sitting outside his window waiting for him? I can only imagine what he'd do to her if he did.

As I dare to exhale, slowly and quietly, the wall swings open and I nearly lose control of my bladder. The man yells in my face and grabs hold of me, pulling me out of his secret room. "You just couldn't stay away could you?" He demands, bringing my face close to his, "You think I don't know you've been following me? I know everything about you you idiot!"

His fingers dig into my arm, he twists it and I'm scared it will break but I don't make a sound. There's no way I can let him know he's hurting me, "What is all this stuff?" I demand, "Why have you been following me?"

He laughs and tosses me to the floor in his bedroom, staring down at me with angry eyes, "Same reason you've been following me."

"You want to kill me?" I don't see any sense in hiding it, if this man has been following me he's no doubt seen the state of my apartment, the odd and grotesque mirror image of his secret room. "Why?"

Before the man can say another word, I hear a heavy clunk. He falls to the floor, revealing Moira standing behind him with the rock clenched tightly in her hands. She raises it into the air and before she can bring it down on the man's head again I grab hold of her arms and pull her back.

"What are you doing?" Moira asks, there's fire in her eyes as she struggles to hit the man again.

"You can't do this, not now! The Investigators are already after me, and my prints are all over this place now," I look down at my hands and shake my head, I can't believe how careless I've been. "The last thing either of us needs is another off-season celebration charge."

Moira huffs, I can see her fingers turning white from the tight grip she has on the large rock. Her hair has come loose and is hanging in her face but she drops the rock and looks up at me, "What do we do then?"

"We need to get out of here before he wakes up…" I look back at the closet and the secret room, then turn back to Moira, "Help me get this stuff out of here."

She follows me and stares in awe at the sight of my face all over the walls, "What is this?"

"He's been watching me."

"Why?"

"He wants me dead…"

"Why?"

"I don't know, okay!? And we don't have time to figure it out. Get this stuff down and let's go!"