I don’t know how long it takes the police to arrive. Might be hours, might be minutes. Hard to tell the difference. The whole time I’m waiting, I’m staring at my clenched hands and concentrating on the rapid beat of my heart.

When blue lights light up the night, Reyna leaves her post next to the passenger door, right next to me, where she’d been standing protectively. Keeping guard, but being there for me at the same time.

She returns not much later, an older woman with a police uniform by her side. She opens the driver’s door and for a moment I’m scared I’ll her that laughter again, that shrieking sound that’s been ringing in my ears like white noise. But there’s nothing, only rain and then Reyna’s voice.

“Selena, this is Superintendent Scott. Do you think you could answer some questions for her? Tell her about what happened?”

I want to say no. I want to scream that all I’m trying not to think of is exactly what that Scott woman wants to hear. I want to cry and hit something because I can’t and that feels so wrong. I just feel sick and empty.

I feel like nothing, like Claire was right.

So I nod silently and Reyna steps away, letting the woman sit in the driver’s seat.

She begins talking and eventually I hear myself replying but the voices sound faraway, somehow. Like they’re in a different room and I’m not even trying to eavesdrop.

Eventually she asks something and I nod and then she comes around to my side of the car, opens the door, and crouches to roll up my jeans.

I wince in surprise and she halts, but then I nod and let her proceed. She ends up taking photos of my shin, my belly, and my shoulder. I don’t know why she’d do that, but she does and I don’t question it.

Then she leaves and I’m about to let out a relieved sigh, when another woman appears next to me.

She says something. I look up with confusion and see a young woman wearing the telltale paramedic’s uniform.

She’s young. Older than me but certainly younger than Reyna. Maybe in her mid-twenties?

She gives me an encouraging smile and I realise that she’s still waiting for an answer, so without thinking, I nod and get up. Pain shoots through my arm when I try to push myself away from the seat and I wince. But then there are strong hands helping me up and the woman says something that’s probably reassuring and a moment later I’m on my feet, leaning against her.

I’m dizzy and my left leg hurts. I can put weight on it – a bit at least, so I doubt it’s broken – but it fucking hurts.

The woman helps me to the ambulance car and sits me down on the stretcher, then hands me the blanket she must’ve brought from the car. She closes the door and it’s just the two of us, her and I, and she talks and I like the sound of her voice much better than that of the policewoman.

She does all sorts of tests on me, looks into my mouth, feels the back of my neck, checks my breathing, feels my ribs, checks my lips, asks questions. Checks my pulse, presses into the heel of my hand, feels for all sorts of bones, asks questions. I think my replies are satisfying but even the moment after I’ve said something, I’m uncertain what it was.

They end up taking me to the hospital. I think it’s to make sure I don’t have any internal bleeding, but I’m really not sure.

They take me into the shock room and a doctor puts me into one of those tubes, then he X-rays my shoulder and leg, just to make sure. And then they say that I’m free to go, if I want to. I can stay over night if I want to, but really I should be fine.

So I leave. A nurse leads me down the corridor and to the main entrance of the hospital and suddenly there’s Reyna hurrying towards me.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers and stops a few steps before me, seeming somewhat uncertain. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

I look up. Wasn’t she the one who saved my life?

So I mumble, “Not your fault,” and try to give her a small smile. It feels so fucking wrong.

For a moment it looks like she wants to contradict, but then the tension leaves her shoulders. She looks very tired suddenly.

I only realise now how awful she looks. Her hair is messy, there’s mud on her knees, hands and face and her lip is split. She looks so different from her usual, carefully composed self.

“Need a lift?” she asks and dangles her keys in the air. “I hope you don’t mind that I called your parents and told them that you were attacked.”

I would’ve preferred if they didn’t find out, but with how I look that’s very hard to avoid. At least this way I won’t have to be the one to tell them.

I nod. “Sure.”

So she turns and walks slowly enough for me to be able to trudge alongside her.

“Why didn’t they take you to the shock room?” I ask as we walk through the door and the cool nightly air hits me. The rain has led up mostly; there’s only a light fizzle left of what used to be a full-scale storm.

“The medics checked my shoulder on site. That was the only meaningful hit I took.” She shrugs.

“Where did you learn to fight like that?”

She gives a tired laugh. “That’s classified.” She pauses, pinches the bridge of her nose in between her thumb and index finger. Then she looks at me thoughtfully. “How are you feeling?”

Tired. Empty. The nausea has left me, but now I’m scared. Scared that I’ll still feel this way when I wake up tomorrow morning. Scared of what I’ll do when I find myself alone at night. Because this emptiness is familiar. The feeling of not wanting to be around people is familiar.
Tired doesn’t cut it.

“Awful.”

Another thoughtful look. “She’s going to prison. You know that, right?”

Well, not exactly. Not with certainty. And it’s good to hear that she won’t be any more of a problem, but really, what does it matter? Hasn’t she caused enough damage already? At least I don’t have to fear for my life anymore. Not if she was the only one. Not if Mika and Emma-

I don’t want to know. I don’t want to think about it.

I shrug. “I guess…”

We get to the car and sit down.

She puts a hand out and firmly squeezes my healthy shoulder. “You’re going to be fine, Selena. Might not seem like it now, but you are. You’ve lived through worse. I know you’re strong enough.”

Yeah right. If only she knew.

I give her a weird look. “Aren’t you supposed to keep your professional distance?”

I’m sorry the moment the words have left my mouth and want to follow it up with an apology, but Reyna only laughs a little and rubs at her temples. It’s been a long day for the both of us.
“I’m so past that. I just rolled around in the mud fighting a fucking highschooler.” She laughs again.

A moment of silence follows, then she says, “I don’t think you should be alone, though, even if you’re just going to sleep. I don’t know how close you are with your family and whether they’re the people you’d talk to if you had something on your mind.” Pause. “Or if there are any people you talk to about these kinds of things… But you should. Maybe not today, but sometime soon. I could help you get therapy-” she interrupts herself and looks at me expectantly.

What did she want to know again?

Friends. Right.

Hours ago, Claire would’ve been my answer. Now she’s gone. And I don’t know whether Mika and Emma are safe to be around. Isa isn’t here. She said she wanted to visit soon, but that’s not now.

That leaves me with my family – and Reyna hit the nail square on. I’m close to them, but this is nothing I can talk about to Pearl, nothing I want to talk about with my parents. And then there’s Alex. The guy that I – only a few hours ago – accused of trying to get me raped.

Well, that does a great job of bringing the nausea back. Shit.

But something like this you can’t leave just lying around.

Alex’s face flashes before my eyes. So full of pain and fear.

I did that to him. How is that any different from what Claire did to me?

I MADE YOU, her voice echoes through my head.

Not that far-fetched.

But I don’t want to be that way, like her. I know that now. Because she is awful. And if I don’t want to be the exact same flavour of awful myself, I’ll have to go suck it up and apologise.

Because he deserves it. Because no matter how he will react, I deserve it.

So I turn to Reyna and say, “Can we stop by at Alex’s please?”

-

I don’t ring the doorbell when I arrive at Alex’s place. All the lights are turned off and I don’t want to wake his parents. But I’m sure that Alex is still awake. He never goes to bed early, right? Only fuck me because what do I know? While the comet was there he had plenty of reason to stay up late and outside of that I never asked. I just… assumed.

But I don’t press the button anyway, instead pulling out my phone – miraculously intact – and send a quick message.

Hey, I’m outside. Can we talk?

What if he’s already asleep?

What if he’s not even here?

What if he hates me?

I’ll wait either way. I’ll apologise and let him get back at me.

Shouldn’t I be crying?

Fuck. I probably should, but I’m not. Does that mean that he won’t believe me? He did cry when I said those awful things to him.

The door opens and I jump. It’s Alex, standing before me in joggers and a large T-shirt, his hair messy, eyes swollen red.

For just a moment, his gaze is hard on me and I’m scared. I’m so scared that he’ll open his mouth and tell me to fuck off. But then the hardness is washed away in an instant as he takes me in and worry surfaces.

“What happened?”

I didn’t expect that. I thought he might scream or cry or even be happy that I’m finally seeing sense, however unlikely that reaction might have been. But that?

I look down on myself.

Oh, right. Forgot that I look like a swamp monster.

“I-” I begin but don’t continue. What even happened? “Claire tried to kill me,” I say then, a little helplessly. That about sums it up, right? Except that I probably should have apologised first?

“Look,” I hurry to continue, even as his face falls. “That’s not what I’m here. Reyna saved me, I’ll be fine. You are why I’m here. Because-” How do you apologise if you really want it to mean something? What words can possibly express that feeling when I’m sorry just doesn’t cut it? Still, it’s a better start than nothing. “I’m so sorry for what I said, okay? I’m so sorry words can’t even express it! I was foolish and stupid and blind and I didn’t trust the one friend that stayed with me through all my problems and I get if you never want to talk to me again but… if there’s anything, anything I can do so we can go back to the way we were before all this, please tell me.” I force myself to stop rambling and blink rapidly because my eyes are burning and I hate how aware of it I am because I feel like a deceiving little bitch for subconsciously wanting to guilt-trip him into forgiving me.

Alex doesn’t replay immediately. For several seconds he just stands in the door, looking at me, his expression blank, maybe a little tired.

When finally he speaks, his voice is monotone and he seems to choose every word with great care.

“I’m glad nothing serious happened to you.” Thoughtfully, he pushes his chin forward, then he continues. “I’m glad you decided to tell me immediately. The last few hours were… I mean, I don’t think I need to give you any lectures on what feeling like utter shit really means. But yeah… What you said… You meant it. In that moment, you meant it and knowing that you’re sorry for it now can only do so much about what I… what I…” his voice trails off, seemingly unable to find the right words. “I don’t think there’s anything you can do, right now. Maybe tomorrow, maybe the day after, but not right now. I still love you but right now I just can’t be around you. And I’m sorry that I can’t help you right now because you really look like you need somebody around, but it can’t be me. Not today.”

A tear pulls lose. This isn’t him immediately forgiving me, holding me in his arms and telling me that everything will be alright. But it is better than those secret hopes because it’s real and he’s not casting aside himself to be there for me but nevertheless, in spite of everything I’ve done to him, decided to give us another try. Not today, but soon.

You’re a sickness that befalls everybody around you, making them secretly miserable.

“I so don’t deserve you,” I whisper with a sniffle.

He shrugs, a weak grin on his lips. “Who cares about fate anyway?”

I want to hug him. I want to hug him so bad, not even because of what shit I just went through but simply because I love him so much and that love is bubbling inside me like crazy, spilling over through my eyes.

“I’ll wait for you,” I say then, when I’m able to speak again. “I’ll wait for you and when we’re ready… let’s talk. We don’t have to go zero to hundred back into it, just…” Where am I even getting with this. “Thank you. I really needed to hear that you don’t completely hate me.”

There’s a flicker of pain on his face as I turn to walk back to the car and suddenly his hand is around my wrist, holding me in place. He’s not pulling me in, just holding me.

“Selena, I could never hate you, okay? Never. Say that you understand!”

-

Ten minutes later, Reyna stops the car in front of my home and I open the door, but then stop and turn towards her.

“Reyna I… I wanted to say thank you for everything you did for me today and before and just… You risked your life for me today and-”

I break off. She’s giggling! Not in a shrill and happy way. More like when something ironic happens but you’re too tired to properly appreciate it.

“Right,” she says then, calming herself down. “I mean, this is kind of my job. Guiding you, protecting you. But – and I’m sorry for not keeping my professional distance when saying this – but I took great pleasure in beating up that psycho. So, you’re welcome.” She winks at me, then she opens the car’s door and gets out.

Confused, I get out as well.

“Why did you get out?” I ask. Shouldn’t she want to return to the hostel now and get to bed?

She gives me a tired smile. “Somebody has to tell your parents what happened, don’t you think? And I’m pretty sure that you don’t have the mental capacity to be that someone today.”

I nod. That’s a very good point.

So we leave the car behind and I unlock the door and there’s Mum, sitting on crouched on the stairs, anxiously awaiting my return. Dad’s leaning across from her against the wall. Both look up when I enter and for a second, Mum just stares like she’s not even sure I’m the one standing before her. Then she gets up and carefully embraces me. Not because I’m dirty – she gets herself thoroughly dirty in the process – more like she fears she might break me. I hug her back a little awkwardly. My shoulder still hurts. It’s gotten better, but moving it definitely doesn’t feel good.

“What happened?” Mum whispers after a while, still not releasing me. “Do you have any idea how worried we were?”

Like this is my fault. Okay, maybe it is, in a way. Stupidity won’t spare you the punishment, huh?

So I just shrug a little helplessly and then Reyna clears her throat, coming to my rescue.
Mum lets go of me as if she only realises now that I didn’t come alone. She probably really didn’t know before.

“Mrs Crow, with all due respect, your daughter is in no condition for a parental interrogation.” She says it in that tired, breathy voice that might be reproach or dry humour. “But I was there, partially, and I talked to the police. So, with her permission, why don’t we spare her and let her get some much-needed sleep while we sit down for a coffee while I fill you in on the details?”

Mum looks like she wants to contradict, but then she nods and Dad gives me a short-lived hug and whispers that he’s glad I’m fine and then I make my way upstairs.

I don’t even go into my room, I just immediately head for the shower, turn on the hot water, peel out of my clammy clothes and step into the stream.

I’m sure I stay there way too long. I don’t pay attention to the time, I just stand there and endure the slightly painful heat against my scalp and back, trying hard not to think.

The rushing of the water almost helps me mask the ringing of laughter in my ears.

Decidedly, I press my eyes shut. My name is Selena Crow. Selena Crow. Selena. Selena. Selena. Selena.

TIMOTHY!!!

Wet hands clutch at my face and I turn my face towards the shower head. It’s hot. So hot.

I MADE YOU!

Alex said he’d try to forgive me. I just have to make it that far, then I’m not carrying this load on my own anymore. He’ll be there, protecting me from myself.

When finally I enter my room wrapped in a towel, I find myself grateful that I didn’t turn on the light upon entering.

Pearl is lying in my bed, snugly wrapped in my blanket, her head resting on a pillow she must’ve brought herself, Tibbers pressed tightly against her chest.

I won’t be alone tonight after all.

As silently as I can, I change into a clean set of pajamas, then crawl into the bed behind her, lift the covers, and snuggle against my little sister.

It doesn’t take her small heartbeat long to put me to sleep.