I am consumed by rage. It burns inside me like a fire that spares nothing in its path. Every cell in my body is alight, every nerve stretched to its limit. I can feel the anger pulsing in my temples, my blood boiling in my veins, threatening to burst out. I fight with myself, trying to contain the storm so I won't hurt her—my girl, the only person who still matters in this chaos.
She stands before me, motionless, like a statue. Her silence is deafening. It cuts deeper than any words could, as if she is deliberately testing my patience, pushing me to see how much more I can take. Her eyes, usually so bright and alive, are now empty, as though she has retreated somewhere far away, leaving only a shell behind.
"So, you're just going to keep quiet?" I snap, my voice trembling, a mix of anger and pain I can't hide.
I turn away, determined to leave before I do something stupid. But Rebel Girl stops me. Her movement is sharp, almost desperate, as if she suddenly realizes I might disappear forever. Katrin grabs my arm, her fingers digging into my skin with such force that I feel her nails leaving marks. Her touch is both painful and soothing, as if she is trying to anchor me to reality, to keep me from falling into the abyss.
"Please, don't go. I did it for you," her voice finally breaks through. It is soft, almost a whisper, but there is a sincerity in it that makes my rage falter for a moment. Her tear-filled eyes plead with me, as if she is seeking salvation not from the outside world, but from me.
"Did I ask for that? I can stand up for myself—and protect you too."
"You can't. Yes, you can handle Ivan alone, but not him and his gang," her words feel like a verdict. They are filled with a bitter truth I don't want to acknowledge. I know she is right, but that knowledge only fuels a new wave of anger—this time directed not at her, but at myself.
"What were you trying to offer him instead of me?" I ask, trying to understand her plan. Deep down, I hope she has a way out, that she hasn't gone there without hope.
"Myself."
The world around me stops. I feel the ground disappear beneath my feet, the air thickening as if I am trying to breathe underwater. I grab her hands, my fingers tightening so hard that she flinches but doesn't pull away. Her eyes, filled with determination and pain, lock onto mine, and it drives me mad.
"Have you lost your mind?!" I explode, my voice a mix of rage and fear that I can't control.
"I couldn't let him touch you," her voice is laced with such pain that my heart clenches.
In that moment, I realize we are both trapped—not just by Ivan and his threats, but by our own fears and our desperate need to protect each other. We are willing to sacrifice ourselves for the other, not realizing that it only makes things worse.
"What? Say that again!" I shout, gripping her hands even tighter. I am trying to hold myself together, but it is almost impossible. My heart is pounding, blood rushing in my ears, and one thought keeps spinning in my head: she is willing to sacrifice herself for me. The thought is like a knife to my heart, and I can't accept that she has even considered it.
"I thought he might show mercy if I offered to fulfill his desire," her voice trembles, but the words are clear, as if she has prepared for this conversation.
What desire? I don't even need to ask. I know his vile intentions, the way he looks at her, what he wants. Just the thought of it fills me with a mix of rage and disgust.
"And? Did you give yourself to him?" I let go of her hands, feeling the strength drain from me. My palms fall to my sides, heavy and useless. I wait for her answer, dreading the worst but knowing that even if she says yes, it won't change anything. The mere thought that she has even considered such a thing is unbearable.
"No, he refused me. But he didn't back down from his plan to hurt you. Ivan said he's giving us the month."
"What kind of nonsense is that? The month for what?" I can't stop myself; the questions spill out one after another. My mind refuses to make sense of it all. What kind of game is he playing? What is he planning?
"He said he won't touch you for a whole month, and then he'll come for you," her voice drops to a whisper, as if she is afraid someone might hear.
"And what will he do?" I need to understand what we are up against.
"I don't even want to think about what they could do to you."
Rebel Girl is on the edge, and now she has crossed it. Tears stream down her cheeks, bitter and hopeless. I can't bear to see her suffering. I step closer, wrapping my arms around her, pulling her tight against me. Her body trembles, and I try to soothe her, though I can feel the fear and rage battling inside me. Fear for her, for us, for what might come. And rage—at him, at myself, at this unjust world.
"He's lying. He won't do anything. He just wants to scare us. And if he tries, we'll go to the authorities. They'll deal with him," I say, trying to convince her, though deep down I know it isn't that simple. I know how this city works, know that some people are above the law.
"You don't understand. He's the favorite of one of the gang leaders. They'll cover for him, and it'll end with you dead."
If that is true, then he is connected to the criminal underworld of our city. That means only one thing: he is dangerous, and this will end badly. But I don't regret it. Even now, knowing what awaits us, I can't regret standing in his way. I couldn't have acted differently then, and I would do the same again if I had to. Because she is everything to me. Because I'd rather die than let anyone hurt her.
"Then what do we do?"
"I don't know. No one will help us," her eyes are empty, and that scares me more than any threat.
"What if we run?" I suggest, grasping for any way out. It is the only option that comes to mind, though I know it is just a delay.
"No, he warned me about that. That gang will find us no matter what, and we won't be able to hide for long."
I feel the last shred of hope slipping away, like sand through my fingers.
"Alright, then I'll face whatever comes and decide what to do when the time comes. But for now, let's not dwell on it. Let's make this month the best one of our lives," I say, trying to find a glimmer of light in the darkness. Maybe it's foolish, but I don't want fear and despair to consume us before our time.
"What kind of fun can we have now?" she gives a bitter smile, but there's a flicker of something in her eyes—something that resembles hope. Maybe she, too, wants to believe that we can find a way out, even in this situation.
"Listen, we can't change the situation, and being stuck in this dead end doesn't mean we have to let it break us. Promise me this month will be the best of our lives. Promise me you won't think about what comes after," I look at her, pleading for her to agree, pleading for us to have this chance at happiness, even if it's temporary.
Rebel Girl is silent, her gaze distant, as if weighing every word. I can see the struggle in her eyes—fear and determination battling for control.
"Please," I add, feeling my heart pound harder. I'm willing to do anything to see her smile instead of tears.
"Alright, let's make it fun," she finally says, and there's a firmness in her voice, as if she has decided that if this is our last month, it will be unforgettable.
I smile, feeling the weight on my chest ease just a little. We don't know what lies ahead, but in that moment, I realize that the most important thing is being by her side. Together, we can face anything—even if that "anything" is just one month of happiness.