A shaking hand slides an envelope through a dark slot, the post-box swallows the envelope into the darkness inside. The black-clad woman wipes tears from her eyes, her stance suggests her grief as she walks wearily away from the post-box. She wears the black to mourn her daughter.

Another, very masculine hand with a gold ring around one finger slides an envelope through a letter-box, which shows no emotion as it accepts the envelope. A tag near the box reads N. Hartstone it is one of many such letter-boxes arrayed above each other outside a block of student flats.

A young man is sitting at a desk; he has long dark wavy hair hanging loose from a centre parting. He has high cheekbones and bright blue eyes; they are however sad and slightly puffy. He has been crying. The room in which he sits is dark; the only light coming from a small lamp on the desk in front of him. A number of leather-bound books are piled on the desk; but the man has been reading a letter. This appears to have been the cause of his sorrow. He wipes his eyes and begins to reread the letter.

The letter tells him that his twin sister has been killed in a gruesome attack. Apparently no sign of her head could be found and she had only been identified by DNA testing of blood found on her corpse. When the young man reads this part, tears begin to roll down his cheeks again. He reaches for a box of tissues that are hidden out of the lamplight. He wipes his tears away, screws up the tissue and throws it; presumably at an out-of-sight wastepaper basket.

The young man opens a desk drawer and pulls out a sheet of thick paper and an expensive looking pen. He stops with the pen on the paper and looks out of the window above the desk. He looks across the city and sees the full moon over the city's lights. He stares out for a long time before a knock at the door somewhere behind him disturbs his reverie.

"Come in, it's open." The young man shouts.

The door is pushed open and light from the landing outside pours in, revealing a student's university flat. An unmade single bed in one corner is in contrast to the obsessive neatness of the rest of the room. A wastebasket overflowing with scrumpled pieces of paper and tissues is next to the desk and a low chest of drawers flanks the bed. On top of the chest are a paperback book and a silver photograph frame. Another lamp is affixed to the bed's headboard and a string light-switch hangs from it.

Stood in the doorway is a girl; she is the young man's sister.

"Do you always sit in this dark brother?" She asks softly; shutting the door behind her and plunging the room again into near total darkness.

"Gabrielle? It can't be you; you're..."

"Dead? Yes, I am."

"No! You can't be dead, not if you're here..." The young man's voice trails off as he attempts to justify his sister's presence. "You can't be..." He struggles to express his thoughts.

"I am, I'm just here to..." She continues to speak but her brother cuts over her hysterically.

"You can't be my sister! My sister is dead! Get out!" His voice is frantic; he is afraid and confused.

"If that is what you want, if you don't want to know what's happened, then I'll go." The young woman sounds sad but he does not notice.

"Get out! Get away from me! What kind of freak are you? Do you get off on people's misery? Get Out!"

The girl turns and opens the door; light again fills the room, silhouetted in the doorway she shakes her head. Then closing the door behind her; she's gone. Leaving her brother alone, he is shaking silently at his desk.

A television screen flickers in the corner of a darkened room; it is showing the evening news. The news reader has just finished reading an item on a government official. The next story is that of a young man's suicide. He had jumped from a bridge over a river estuary and is assumed to have been swept out to sea. Witnesses at the scene together with the police had created an E-fit photograph. This photo had been matched to a photograph provided by the missing persons unit shortly after the suicide.

The belief is that the suicide victim was Nathaniel Hartstone; a top student and heir of the famous Hartstone collection. He was deeply upset by the brutal murder of his twin sister Gabrielle Hartstone only ten days before. Nathaniel had left a message to his family at his student accommodation in which he expressed great despair at his loss. A police spokesman expressed deep sympathy to the Hartstone family for their double loss over the past fortnight.

The television screen suddenly turns off leaving the room in complete darkness. Gabrielle asks,

"Why? Why did he jump?" Her voice is shaky and she sounds upset.

"You went to him. The poor lad had just learnt of your 'death' when you show up; large as life," he pauses, "He didn't know what was going on, he thought he'd gone mad."

Gabrielle interrupts her grandfather. "So it's my fault he's dead?" There is a slightly hysterical note to her voice.

"No dear," His slightly accented voice is soft and gently reassuring. "You are not to blame for your brother's death."

"Yes I am! I am and I hate it!" Tears fill her voice and she stands and runs to a door; almost invisible in the darkness. She opens the door and runs out, crying.

Her grandfather sighs to himself "He's not even dead, it would be easier if it was." He sucks in a breath; an affectation since he no longer needs to breathe and shakes his head sadly. "Ah well, things will sort themselves out eventually."