"Tell her we're alive, you mean."

Jake skulked the limited periphery of the room, inspecting the dark corners, the empty bathroom, like a wary stray prowling the back streets at night. The air inside was close and quite rancid from the smell of damp wood and empty beer cans. On the bedside stand there was a small half-empty bottle of aspirin, Jake reached out then thought better of it, for in such an unsavoury place, and without the means to divine its true contents, it was better to be safe than sorry. He sat at the foot of the bed, the matress dipped with a groan of springs, and considered Aidan's proposal. Anna would have questions, hard questions, and, if they were going to call, they needed to have answers.

It seemed so long ago, and so far removed from their present situation, when they first sat and discussed over beers their options for protecting the house and its inhabitants. Months later, they were once again faced with another important decision to make, except this time there was a notable shortage of options on the table. They had built a house of cards upon a foundation of lies and were holding their breath. And yet, despite the reality of being swamped up to his neck in such a moral quandry, Jake was inwardly, and silently, wrestling with another demon. It was a persistant needling menace, feeding fat his doubts, and unravelling what was beginning to feel like a very tentative grasp on his own sanity. He repeated Aidan's words in his head and snorted in amusement at his own absolute uncertainty. It was another hard question for which he looked to his enigmatic friend for the answers.

"How are we doing again, Aidan?"