The apartment door groaned as Hana shoved it open with her shoulder. A wave of stale air hit them, but neither of them seemed to care.

  Hana stepped hesitantly into her apartment, as if it belonged to someone else. Her movements were careful, the silken thread between them was not allowed to snap.

  But Lyra couldn’t disappear.

  She was still there, right behind her. Even if she seemed to be running on autopilot.

  A soft click at the light switch coaxed the tired bulbs into glowing, revealing Hana’s usual chaos

  Hana kept glancing at Lyra, as if she had to make sure the sight of it all wouldn’t make her leave after all.

  They both slipped off their shoes and entered the room.

  “Food?” Hana tossed the word into the room, just to chase away the oppressive silence.

  Lyra nodded.

  The kitchen table was not made for two people. Above it hung a single bulb Hana had never bothered to replace with a proper ceiling light. The light pulsed slowly, steadily, like it was trying to spark a conversation.

  But beneath that flickering light, there was only silence.

  The silence hurt. But at least it was honest. The only proof that not everything was normal.

  Still it didn’t make things easier.

  Hana picked up a piece of chicken with her chopsticks and forced herself to swallow it. It tasted like shoe sole. Not the chicken’s fault, her appetite was simply gone. Even her usually aching thirst didn’t want to be satisfied right now.

  She chewed slowly, as if she were on the verge of constantly biting her own tongue. Another glance at Lyra.

  Lyra sat there like she was posing for something, but crooked. Something no one wanted to see. Her hunched body rocked back and forth in a slow rhythm. She focused on the piece of tofu between her chopsticks, but didn’t eat it. As if she were hypnotized by it. Or was she trying to see through it?

  Hana didn’t know.

  Too many thoughts buzzed through her head. None of them felt right. None of them felt ready to be spoken. None of them could bridge the worlds now stretching between them.

  All that remained was the teriyaki chicken in front of her. And no matter how many bites she took, neither the taste nor the mood improved.

  Minutes passed without a single word leaving either of their mouths. The light above them began to flicker nervously, like a warning that time was running out.

  Then, Lyra lowered her chopsticks and with them, the sad piece of tofu she still hadn’t touched. The chair shrieked, as if it were trying to stop her. She pushed it back and rose with a struggle.

  A sign of life?

  Hana didn’t know whether to be relieved or afraid.

  Lyra’s steps were more sleepwalking than walking. She dragged herself over to the kitchenette. The stacks of unwashed plates didn’t faze her. Neither did the sink that looked more like a trash can.

  She stopped in front of the fridge, resting her forehead against the cool surface.

  Just forget…

  She barely felt the cold of the vodka bottle in her hand. Whether it was her own body temperature or the numbness in her fingers, she couldn’t tell.

  Just let me forget.

  The cap protested when she twisted it open, much like the shrieking chair before.

  Just a few swallows. Just to forget.

  Then— glass shards.

  Clattering.

  Pain.

  A hot burn pulsed at Lyra’s wrist. She stared down at it with an empty look.

  A hand. Hana’s hand.

  Out of nowhere, she was suddenly right beside her.

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  Panting, head lowered. She had grabbed Lyra by the wrist. The bottle had slipped from her hand and shattered on the floor.

  “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!?!”

  When Hana lifted her head, Lyra could see her face. It was distorted, somewhere between agony and fury.

  Lyra didn’t understand what was happening. Her voice trembled.

  “I—I just wanted to… I just wanted to—”

  “YOU WANTED WHAT?! KILL YOURSELF??”

  Kill myself?

  Lyra stared at her in disbelief. She thought of the pills from that morning, of the dull pressure still squatting in the back of her head. But she didn’t see the connection. All she saw was the sheer terror in Hana’s eyes.

  The world went black.

  A dull thud. Pain.

  Hana slammed her against the nearest wall. Tears ran like blood from an open wound.

  “The pills…”

  Hana whispered, but her fingernails dug into Lyra’s arms. “The Xanax… and now this shitty vodka. Together they—”

  Hana jerked her head up, right into Lyra’s face.

  “TOGETHER THEY’D KILL YOU.”

  She gasped for air.

  “WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS??”

  The scream died out. Hana’s hands shook, as if the words had struck her instead. Then quieter, but no less unsteady. “Why… just… why?”

  A desperate sob.

  “Why do you always want to disappear when I need you the most?”

  The words cut. They cut so deep that Hana's voice began to crack, breaking over and over again.

  “And—and… now… you want—want to…”

  The sentence tore her apart.

  “Now—now you want to disappear forever?!”

  Every single word pulsed through Hana’s throat.

  “Now… when you’re the only thing keeping me here??”

  She swallowed, but there was nothing left holding her back.

  “If you really want to disappear—”

  “…”

  Her voice fell apart.

  “Then at least take me with you…”

  She watched the words drift away, wanted to pull them back. But it was too late.

  Her tight grip loosened. Hana lowered her head, hands pressed against her face until nothing was left but sobbing.

  Lyra opened her mouth. She wanted to apologize. Explain herself. Sie did not want to kill herself. But the paralysis wouldn’t let go.

  There was something in Hana’s words that echoed louder than her scream.

  “…the only thing keeping me here…”

  “…at least take me with you.”

  She felt it. Way too much.

  The past few days had been too long. Too exhausting. Too much had happened.

  But buried beneath all that chaos was something else. Something she had never felt before. Not with this tenderness, when their fingertips brushed so carefully. Not with this intensity, when she stole kiss after kiss from Hana.

  It was so real.

  Far too real for the life in Rudi’s rat cage, a life only bearable behind that mask. Yet Hana’s hand broke through all of that. It wasn’t demanding. It was just there. Reached out and warm.

  Filled with all the emotions and memories Lyra had pushed away for far too long. The hand asked for nothing. And yet Lyra felt how much she was needed. And how much she needed that hand herself.

  Their fingertips reached for each other, hurt and careful.

  With every one of those moments, Lyra took a small step closer. Opened up. Slowly took off the mask—even if it already stuck way too hard to her face.

  And now, tonight. With this nice guy. Who treated them the way he was supposed to. Who paid them better than anyone before.

  Everything was wrong.

  Because Hana was in the same room. Because Lyra felt Hana's eyes on her while that man used her.

  And then, when Hana turned to her. Touched her. Let herself be touched…

  That was when it fell apart. The walls. The mask. Everything.

  It should have been a moment of real, safe intimacy. Just the two of them. Slow. Gentle. Anywhere but this cage. Not with some guy who didn’t belong there. That wish now lay shattered on the floor. Just like Lyra’s club mask.

  And the worst part: No one had forced her to take it off, Lyra had done it all on her own.

  Everything was on the floor. Everything lay in shards.

  And it was Lyra’s fault. Just like back then. No matter what she did. No matter how hard she tried. Sooner or later it always came to the same end. Everything she touched, even with just her fingertips, fell to pieces.

  The tears were already streaming freely down her cold cheeks, leaving black streaks behind. Everything burned, but Lyra didn’t feel it.

  Hana was still standing in front of her.

  Lyra took a step toward her. Her arms wrapped around her—neither hesitant nor shaking. Just tight, like claws.

  She rested her head on Hana’s shoulder. The only place left that still felt safe. Where she could find peace.

  But peace was impossible right now. It was all too much.

  It started with a scratchy groan. Her grip tightened. Then it hit her. Everything derailed.

  A dry scream.

  Sharper than a thousand pieces of chalk on a blackboard. Her body spasmed violently, as if a vacuum in her chest were sucking all the life out of her. The white hair strands fell chaotically across her face, as if desperately trying to hide it.

  Coughing. Gasping. Rough, snapping breaths. A cycle of choking and screaming.

  Then again.

  Each scream burst out of her like a swarm of black flies. Like the ones in the Grim Salvo lyrics she always listened to.

  Just rewind. Just forget. And start over.

  But no matter how painful and ugly Lyra screamed…

  None of it happened.

  Eventually, things went quiet. Lyra buried herself in Hana’s shoulder, wanting to sink into it and never come up again. She had no idea how Hana would react to this.

  So she clung to the silence for as long as she could.