“Selena,” she repeats, and I hear her bare feet tapping against the stairs. “What happened?”

I’m frozen still. I thought I was alone in the house and I screamed at Alex. She- She heard it all.

And indeed, when Pearl rounds the corner, her little face screwed up with fear and there are tears glistening on her cheeks and she practically flies against me, hugging me tightly around the waist.

I feel rotten inside.

“I’m sorry you had to hear that,” I say lamely, stroking her head.

How do I explain this to her? How do you explain adult problems to a child that’s so unwaveringly positive? How do you explain abuse and toxicity and mind-boggling idiocy?

“What happened?” she whispers into my blouse and readjusts her hands behind my back.

“Alex and I had a fight,” I say simply. It’s the truth.

“You need to make up, Lena,” she pleads. “You need to get along again.”

“I’m not sure I can, Pearl. You know… Sometimes, people aren’t the way they seem and then you need to get away from them.”

And suddenly Pearl isn’t crying; she’s wailing against me the way I’ve never seen her do and I can’t bare it.

With a hitch in my breath, I sink to the ground and pull her with me, against me, tighter and tighter until I’m scared I might break her little body but I can’t help it. I pull her into me, against my chest and rest my cheek against the top of her head, my arms protectively wrapped around her.

“I’m sorry,” she cries and it comes out all distorted. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

I want to scream. I want to punch through a wall and bang my head against a hard and flat surface because she doesn’t deserve this.

But I don’t do any of these things. Instead, I rub her back with one hand and begin making shushing noises.

“It isn’t your fault,” I say but she vehemently shakes your head.

“I don’t know what to do, Lena,” she says, hiccuping sobs into the fabric of my blouse. “I don’t know how to fix this.”

It makes my chest grow tight. She’s not crying because Alex and I were having a fight but because she doesn’t know how to make everything turn out well again?

I don’t deserve her. I just don’t. This child…

“Listen to me, Pearl,” I say firmly. “There’s nothing you can fix. Sometimes things just are that way and this is neither your fault, nor your responsibility. I should be the one taking care of you, okay? Not the other way around.”

She doesn’t say anything, just continues crying.

“Do you want me to make pancakes?” I ask tentatively, somehow grateful for the diversion. Would be nice to get my thoughts away from all this.

But she shakes her head.

“Do you want to watch a movie or play some games, maybe?”

Again, she shakes her head. The sobs are giving way to silent sniffles, now, but she doesn’t move.
I’ve never been particularly good at cheering up children and now I’m growing desperate.

“Is there anything I can do to make you feel better right now? Anything?”

She grows still for a moment, then she whispers, “Could you go to Reyna and ask her for whatever Alex wanted you to ask for?”

When I flinch at the notion, a shiver returns to her voice.

“For me. Do it for me, not for him. Then it’s not your fault but mine, okay? Do it for me. Please. Do it and I’ll never ask for anything again.” Her voice is growing frantic. “You can have my desserts and I’ll make you breakfast in bed and you can have Tibbers just please.”

My heart warms and I feel sick at the same time.

And then I say,“Okay,” before I can think better of it. “I’ll do it.”

-

I find Reyna sitting in the dining room, this time. She has a plate of noodles with minimalistic tomato sauce in front of her. In between chewing, she appears to be talking to someone over her headset.

Tentatively, I move closer. Last time she was nice to me and helped greatly. But will she be able to help now?

For a brief moment, I shut my eyes and breathe in deeply. I’m doing this for Pearl, not for myself. I might as well not have a choice at all.

I don’t say anything when I arrive at her table. Instead, I pull out the chair across from her and sit down.

She glances up, nods, and continues talking. I try not to listen, I think it’s family related.

Then, after a few minutes, she says, “Hey, sorry, something from work has come up. Can we continue this later, maybe?”

She listens, then nods.

“Yeah, love you too. Bye.” And she taps against the side of her headset and takes it off.

“Hello, Selena,” she says, setting it down on the table next to her phone. “How can I help you?”

I tell her. The whole story from start to finish, from the first time Claire talked to me on the corridor to the fight I just had with Alex.

She listens to it all, doesn’t interrupt me even when I feel like I’m not making any sense.

And when I say, “That’s why I’m here. To ask whether you can access the camera footage from the club,” she nods and says,

“I’ll see what I can do.”

She puts away her empty plate and gets up and tells me to wait in the lobby while she makes a few calls.

She’s gone for maybe half an hour. Half an hour I spend nervously bouncing my knee, every few seconds looking at the stairway where I saw her last.

When she returns, she nods at me and I get up. She’s already got her car keys in hand.

“We’re going on a trip, Selena,” she says in a serious tone.

We drive in silence. Reyna focused on the street while I look out the window, trying very hard not to think of what’s about to happen.

I’ll get certainty. Isn’t that what I wished for? Then why am I so scared? Because I could turn out to be wrong? Because I could turn out to be right?

I don’t know.

Only when we stop at the club’s employee’s parking space and the motor comes to a stop she finally speaks up.

“I need you to promise me something, Selena,” she says and turns to look at me. “No matter what we see on the footage, the first thing we do is talk, okay? You and I are going to go back to this car and talk and together we’re going to think of the best way to handle this situation, okay? I know I can’t force you to do anything, but I would like to at least be able to provide advice.” Pause.

“Okay?”

I nod numbly. “’Kay.”

“Alright.” She takes my hand and gives it a light squeeze. “Stay strong. I’m here with you.”

We get out of the car. The rain has stopped now but the clouds are still thick and dark. It’ll start again soon enough.

A small, bald man lets us in through the backdoor and after exchanging a few hushed words with Reyna, he leads us up a narrow staircase to an office with several large screens at a single desk.

“Here, have a seat,” he says, pulling out the desk chair for Reyna and getting a pair of stools for us.

“Here.” He clicks a few times, too fast for me to really know what he’s doing, then a video begins playing.

The camera must’ve been above the bar, somewhere to the left. The view of all the people sitting at the bar is good, though a little grainy due to poor lighting.

Reyna turns to me.

“So, Selena, when do you say all that happened? When did you first sit down at the bar?”

I shrug. There wasn’t a watch and I didn’t look at my phone.

“I think we entered the club around eleven? And then I danced for some time before going to the bar.”

“So… One AM?”

I shrug. It’s as good a time as any to start. As she clicks, I realise that I’m anxiously tapping my foot and force it still. I’m a wreck and I don’t want it to be too obvious.

“There!” I call out. “That’s her.” I point at the small and grainy image of Claire. “Now we just need to wait for me to arrive.”

Then I do arrive. I get my drink, sit down next to her, drink, get up to go to the toilet.

Alex arrives immediately after and he stops before Claire. They seem to argue over something.

Alex angrily throws his arms out to the side but Claire barely moves.

Then he leans against the bar, not far from her. My drink is well within his reach and Claire has her back turned towards him. She looks in the direction where I disappeared to. Then I walk back into the picture, slow down, speed up, stop before Alex. There’s a short exchange and we walk off.

My stomach twists. He didn’t put anything in the drink. I know that because I returned to Claire right after the fight and emptied the glass. So if it wasn’t him-

I freeze. All my muscles just lock and for a moment I can’t breathe.

Claire has turned, leaned over and put something in my drink.

-

Reyna says something as she pulls the driver’s door shut. I think it’s a question? But I’m really not sure.

I register the sound of her voice but the words don’t make it to the conscious part of my brain. They get lost somewhere along the way.

I feel strangely hollow. My thoughts are moving slowly and it’s hard to concentrate.

Claire.

Alex.

Alex was right. Claire lied. But why? To hurt me? To hurt him? For a different reason entirely?

Why?

Why?

Reyna says something. I think she’s been repeating it. Is it my name?

As if through thick fog her voice reaches me.

“Selena?”

I turn my head. “Hm?”

“You promised we’d talk after this. Remember?”

I nod. “Mhm.”

What does this make of everything Claire said to me? All just a single, big scheme? Are Mika and Emma in on it too?

Before my inner eye, I see their faces. Mika’s kind smile and Emma’s smirk. They were so nice, they were so normal. They were so- like Claire.

Claire was nice too. I liked her. So much so that I hated Alex for telling me the truth.

How can I ever apologise for what I did, for what I said? I was cruel, so cruel.

Nausea overwhelms me and I throw open the door, stumble out into the pouring rain and throw up into a drain.

Seconds later, there are hands holding back my hair as my body convulses again and again.

Again. Again. Again.

She helps me up afterwards, practically carries me back to the car and places me in the seat.

I’m wet, I realise. Well, thoroughly drenched, more like.

Rain is hammering against the car’s roof and windscreen.

Was it this loud before I got out? I don’t remember.

Reyna offers me a tissue and I take it, wipe my mouth, stuff it into my pocket. I also take the water bottle and drink until the taste has left my mouth. I can’t get rid of the burn in my throat, of that feeling that something has become stuck above the swallowing mechanism and I try to swallow it down but it stays.

She gently takes the bottle from my hands and puts it away.

Her warm hand takes mine.

“Want me to bring you home?”

I shake my head vaguely.

“No. I… I should talk to Claire. I-”

“Do I really have to tell you that that’s a bad idea? With everything Alex told you about her?”

I shake my head again, firmly this time.

“I need to know for certain… No I-”

What do I even want?

“I need to see for myself the kind of person she really is,” I say then and I know it’s the truth. The Claire who put drugs into my drink isn’t the Claire I learned to love as a friend. Not the way I see it, at least.

“That’s risky, you know? With the state you’re in. It could really damage you. And we don’t even know how far she’s willing to go beyond putting drugs in your drink.”

She’s right. Of course she is. But that doesn’t change anything.

“I need to finish this. I can’t just… have this open thing in my past, bleeding into everything I do.”

She nods. She understands.

“Going to the police would end it too,” she suggests half-heartedly but my reply doesn’t come as a surprise.

“Not like that. I can still go to the police afterwards, if I still want to, but I’d really rather not.”

I’ve heard the stories of how awful trials can be for the victims. Getting proof isn’t even the problem in my case but… I really just want to get this over with and never have to think of it again.

I know, of course, that it’s not that simple. It never was and it never will be, but I like telling myself that anyway. Because what else is there to keep me going?

For a moment I’m distracted by Reyna rummaging through her purse. Then she seems to find what she was looking for and fishes it out of the bag.

A metal bracelet. Broad pieces of some metal linking together to form a flexible yet sturdy band. It’s neither delicate nor chunky… elegant, I think is the right word for it.

She hands it to me.

“Put this on, please. There’s a tracking device in there with a switch.” She shows it to me. One of the links is different. Barely visible if not inspected closely, easily hidden by turning the bracelet around: a small silver switch.

“The moment you turn this switch, I get an alarm signal and your position. Then I can come and get you out of there, whatever happens.”

I nod, take the bracelet, but it around my wrist. The metal is cool against my skin, heavy but in a comforting way.

“Thanks.”

Taking a deep breath, I stroke my hair back, then move to open the door. Now or never.

But Reyna holds me back.

“I’m serious, Selena. If you’re uncomfortable, even if she doesn’t get aggressive. Get out, call me, I’ll pick you up.” She pauses. “And better don’t meet her at her place? That’s always a bad idea for things like this. Somewhere neutral, with people nearby if possible.”

I nod one last time.

“Thank you.”

And I get out into the rain.