His Darkest Hour

Horatio Barry knelt down by the altar and prayed, "Forgive me, oh
Lord, for I have sinned," he confessed.
The Virgin Mary stared across at the old man's gaunt face. Horatio
scratched his head, it was hurting. His yellowing teeth were aching
too.
Horatio welled up inside. "She seems to know so much," he mused. And
this in itself had an unsettling effect on Horatio. "Get up," she seemd
to be saying. "Get up and face me". Meekly Horatio did as he imagined
was expected of him.

"You must leave," she commanded. "Do not return until you have made
amends," she said. As Horatio walked out of the church he felt a sense
of relief. She had said he must make amends, and that was now his
mission. Although he had felt guilty about his actions that morning,
there was a new day about to dawn, and he would be there to see it. Of
course, it had not been his intention to strike the guard. Nor had he
meant to kill him either. It was simply a case of self preservation, he
argued. "I only wanted to go to the pub," he said, to no-one in
particular. It had been so long since he had a drink of beer - too
long.

Horatio's problem had always been his temper. If only he could control
his confounded temper, then maybe just once he would be proud of
himself. Horatio knew he could not afford that luxury now. A red car
sped past, instinctively, Horatio covered his face.

"I'm too exposed here," he thought.
"You are," said the virgin. "You need a disguise. It's not wise to let
them see you as you are."

An opportunity presented itself as he passed the corner of the street,
number 90 Avondale Road was a small Victorian terrace. Its occupier had
conveniently left the front door open.

"Horatio, go into the house," said the virgin. He crept into the
hallway, and shut the front door behind him. Steathily, Horatio
advanced towards the living room. The rectangular shaped room looked
quite elegant. It boasted crystal chandeliers and an expensive Persian
carpet. The oak veneered tabole was standing in the centre of the
living room. On the table was a white card. Horatio took the card from
the table, and read it aloud. "Go upstairs," it said.

Horatio shuddered, and stood mesmerised by the card. Someone was in the
house, and had known he would be coming. The occupier of the house
should have informed the authorities. After all, he was a wanted
criminal, trespassing. And yet, the card had been on the table in
advance of his visit. Horatio felt anxious. Finally he decided to go
upstairs.

The stairs creaked as he stepped on them. At the top of the stairs he
found a small ladies hand mirror lying against the wall. Horatio picked
up the mirror and examined his face.
"I look a bit ragged," he thought, "Could do with a shave."
Suddenly, he caught sight of anothers face in the mirror. He turned
around to greet the occupier of the house.
"Where have you been?" she said, "I've been expecting you."
"I came as soon as I could," explained Horatio. "The 'Met' are looking
for me. Gotta keep a low profile."
"I'll help you," said the woman. "It's always been the same since you
were a boy."
"Thanks," he said sarcastically. "Do I know you?"
"Come this way," she said.

Horatio entered the bedroom, which was familiar to him for some unknown
reason. Horatio shuddered again. This woman, this house, this whole
situation had a deja vu feel about it.
"Sit down on the bed," said the woman. Horatio sat down and observed
the woman. She was 25, 26 at the most. Her long black hair dangled like
Rapunzels, and captivated him. She had full cherry lips, and piercing
brown-green eyes, that seemed to reach inside him.
The room was illuminated by a lamp, which cast a strong warm light over
their heads. The shadows danced against her like fireflies, but they
were unsettled.
"You can rest," said the woman, "No-one will find you here."
He paused and then said, "How did you know I was coming?"
"You are in all the newspapers," she replied. "They say you're a
dangerous armed criminal."
"Then why aren't you afraid?" he asked seriously.
She smiled more out of pity than from amusement.
"I know you too well," she said. "Besides, I don't scare easily," she
added.
"Why are you doing this?" Horatio persisted. The doorbell rang, and
Horatio took out his revolver. He pointed it at the woman.
"One false move, and you're dead," he warned.
"You can't hurt me," she replied. "You need me!" Horatio jumped off the
bed.
"How do you get out of here?" he demanded. The woman didn't answer his
question. He became aware of three men jumping on him. Horatio
struggled with the men, but their combined strength immobilised him.
The woman returned and lifted his sleeve up to his shoulder
blade.
"What are you doing?" Horatio screamed. "Leave me alone!"
"Don't fight," said the virgin. "Come to me."
The needle was injected into Horatio's arm and he lost consciousness on
the cold stone floor.
Horatio felt strange when he awoke. Something momentous had happened to
him, that much he sensed. However, try as he might he could not
remember anything of his ordeal. He felt calm, and experienced a
floating sensation.
"Where am I?" he asked a woman who was standing near to his bed.
"This is a hospital," she replied. "You have just received a major
lobotomy operation."
"I have," he said.
"For your own good. I have."
Horatio felt oblivious to what she had told him. But he did wonder why
the miliary personnel standing nearby had their guns fixed on him.
Though this wondering passed, and soon he did not wonder at all.