You’re walking home from work one evening when you hear voices in the alley behind your house. Your first instinct is to keep walking, but then you hear the pleas of a desperate man. You take a few steps closer before a gun shot rings out. You stop dead in your tracks, then a second shot is fired. You try to inch back away, when you feel two hands firmly grasp your arms. The breath on your neck sends chills down your spine. A strong Irish accent whispers

Where are you going, mo ghrá?