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“Stop.”

My mind no longer processes the whole sentences. It retains only the tone, and the tone alone is enough to unleash something brutal. I’m not small anymore. I can’t be.

“I told you to stop,” I say, but my voice is already too dry.

He moves even closer, his hands gripping my arms violently, pulling them away from him. And the second level breaks. “You were fine earlier,” he says.

No.

“Give me a second,” I hear myself say with a shaky voice.

“A second for what?”

I don't know how to answer. A second to stay here without losing myself. A second for my body to understand that now is not before. A second not to disappear into my memories.

A second to forget him.

But the body doesn't negotiate, it remembers everything all at once, and the wounds I no longer see reopen.

“I told you no, damn it, stop.” I push him away, but he's angry. He grabs my arm and pulls me closer.

Why aren't you listening to me?

“You think you can play with me? You got me all worked up and now you want to run away?”

I cling to simple things, the floor, the wall, the table. My name. The present moment.

“Stop. Stop. Fucking stop,” I repeat, pushing and struggling.

His voice returns harsher now. “I said fucking relax.”

And then, something shifts. My body can no longer distinguish between today and what resembles yesterday. My vision narrows to the sides. My hands become distant. And my voice becomes uncertain. I'm afraid. I'm still afraid, and I no longer recognize myself.

“Stop.”

Stop. Stop. Stop.

And he doesn't hear that as an ending. For him, I’m guilty for coming with him only to push him away for no reason. All I can think of is that he's just like him, he has his hands without realizing it, his gaze is devoid of consciousness and doesn't understand why my fear is legitimate. Two realities that cannot coexist without breaking something.

And my conscience is the victim. The room splits in two, time no longer stands still.

You couldn't protect yourself the first time. I'll protect you this time.

I'm still here, but not entirely. I walk toward the cliff and see the small version of myself dangling my legs over the edge. I never protected you.

She looks at the sky, shakes her head, full of innocence.

Can you hear me? Can you see me? I haven't changed. I'm still you.

My body throws me back to reality in fragments. Him on top of me, pushing me against the furniture until my back cracks. His gaze full of desire, his hands uninvited brushing my skin. But I still see her. She turns toward me and smiles.

An empty plate from his room service is next to me; a knife finds its way into my hands without my consent, and I stab him hard in the abdomen. I hear him gasping for breath, but I sit down beside her. I’m on the cliff, making wishes with her.

Fireflies are coming from everywhere.

With each smile, another stab follows. Until I hear her. “It’s over, Mireya.”

But I want to stay with you a little longer.