Death's Embrace

A soft ballad wafted through the house - but something wasn’t the same. Nessa woke up in a storm of rage, and ran downstairs. 

“Declán!” she screamed.

The song abruptly stopped as his last note reverberated. 

“Yes Ness?” 

“I’ve had enough! This is the last straw!” 

Declán sighed. It had been weeks since they had lost everything. The only things that remained were their house and piano. 

“How can you wake up every morning and just accept your fate? Was it OUR fault that this happened? No! I refuse to stand idly as everything i’ve ever worked for crumbles in front of me.”

He had heard it all before, and he knew Nessa was right. Ireland’s crisis had brought their seemingly endless happiness shuddering to a halt. 

“Ok, so what do you propose we do? What CAN we do?”

“Take Cowen Down.”

“You can’t possibly think this is his fault!”

“Then whose fault is it, dear brother?”

“Nobody’s.”

“Ugh!”. Nessa swore under her breath. 

She knew that something had to be done, they couldn’t just let their country fall into ruin. Everywhere you looked, people were unemployed. She knew that they couldn’t live on savings forever, most didn’t even have any. Those who did would see their life’s work slip out of their fingers, and then what? It was time to act. 

She knew that Government was a dirty business, and she couldn’t let Ireland’s Taoiseach run it any longer. But what was she to do? She didn’t even know herself. Finally, after days of rage, she decided. She was going to freeze hell.

The streets were dotted with color as Dublin’s very fabric ripped apart. Thousands were chanting in Gaelic and hurling rocks. Nessa stood on a plinth and watched. In her mind, she was admiring the power of people. How Tunisia changed the world she thought. First Africa, now Europe. She though that she could change the world, one country at a time.

Then, the seemingly peaceful protest turned into a frenzy of violence. Water jets shot sky-high and smoke rose from the streets. In the distance she could hear gunshots - and then they ran. The wave of people surged through the streets, and it wasn’t long before she was caught up in it.

“Declán!” she screamed.

All she could hear was noise.

“Declán!” she shouted again. 

But there was no answer. Just noise. Time seemed to slow down as dublin whirled around her. Faces. Hands. Shoes. Her vision was a blur. And then she went under.

The solemn beeps of the medical instruments were the only sounds audible. Declán’s cold, hard face looked upon his dying sister. She had been dragged under the stampede and crushed by the rampage. They were lucky to find her alive. 

“How is she doctor?” he asked.

“She’s still in a coma, and only time will tell now”.

The doctor rushed off with his coat swinging round him. There were more people here than Nessa. It turns out civil war broke out that fateful day, as groups of pro and anti government protesters clashed. It seemed that revolution is a carbon copy. Russia, Egypt, all paid in blood. The few hospitals that weren’t closed were full, with patients treated in the hallways - the doctors had to prioritize. 

Declán’s attention returned to his sister. The life support system was beeping away, but it seemed as if she was gone already. A tear fell to the floor, and Declán clenched his fist. This was personal now.

The veil of rage had clouded his vision. He was ready to do anything to get revenge. 

The streets were still chaotic, with trucks flying by twice the speed limit and people running everywhere. He didn’t care. He kept his Glock in his pocket, to obscure it from view, and ran toward the parliament building. When he got there, it was already packed. A wall of police was dousing the protesters with foam, and a clear line around the building was formed. A few molotovs were hurled, but they never had a chance of hitting their marks. Declán waded through the crowds and got to the police tape. 

Two shots were fired, and two policemen fell. The tape split, and he walked up the marble stairs. Shouts. Anger. Two more rounds went off and the door fell open. “NESSA!” he screamed, was enveloped by death’s embrace.