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This room is a refuge from the stifling heat outside. You hate that you have to wade through the pink sea to get here, hate the way the viscous liquid feels on your skin.

There is a girl here, and you are briefly overwhelmed by the rush of emotions when you look at her: revulsion, desire, jealousy, awe, resentment, longing, guilt, fear, love.

Your head pounds. You feel sick to your stomach.

Her gaze passes over you, as always. She doesn’t acknowledge you. She never does, not unless—

The knife is heavy in your skirt pocket.

You take a step closer. You—you want her. You want her to want you. You don’t know what you want, but you want it so bad it aches.

You turn to face the light switch.

There is a choice to make now.