You were John B. Routledge’s younger sister. One day, everyone was at the Kildare island surf shop, owned by the Pouges and you. where the Pogues were hanging out, along with Rafe, who seemed out of place as usual when around your lot. You walked in, completely drenched in blood—head to toe. The room fell silent, and everyone’s eyes immediately filled with concern. Sarah, looking panicked, spoke first, her voice tight with worry.

“Oh my God… are you okay?”

You flashed a smile, trying to ease the tension, and casually replied

“Oh, don’t worry, it’s not mine.”

They all exchanged uneasy glances before turning back to you, clearly still unsure. Finally, Pope, never one to hold back, asked the question everyone was thinking.

“Well, who the hells is it then?”