The author narrates.
Bi stood up slowly, not getting too close. Her voice was low, without judgment.
Bi: I'm not attacking you, Vikram. I just want you to understand what's happening inside you. Not so you'll be ashamed… but so you can choose clearly. So you won't keep punishing yourself for feeling.
Vikram turned to look into her eyes. He was confused, angry—more with himself than with her—and with a fear he didn't want to admit.
Vikram: I didn't mean to…
He said it through clenched teeth, as if the words hurt as they came out. As if admitting it would be a betrayal.
Bi laughed softly. Not mockingly, but with a mixture of tenderness and resignation.
Bi: It's always like this. The body speaks first. The soul… takes time to catch up.
Vikram: Shut up.
Bi's expression changed. Serious. She didn't move. She just watched him, the glass still in her hand.
Bi: Does it bother you that I'm saying it out loud? Or does it bother you that it's true?
Her tone was direct. Firm. No room for escape.
Vikram took a step back. Not out of fear of her, but because of the sharpness of her words. Because of what they stirred up. Because of what they implied.
"What if she's right? What if everything I feel... isn't weakness, but something I don't understand yet? Why is it so hard for me to accept that I enjoyed it? Why does it hurt more that he said it than the fact that it happened?"
That's when Trip's voice came from the back of the room. He was still in bed, lying on his back, but he slowly turned over, propping himself up on one elbow. His pyramid-shaped mask gleamed in the warm light of the room.
Trip: Have you finished analyzing it, Bi? Because if you don't have enough data on him... I have time to keep teaching him what his body has already learned.
Vikram felt a spark of anger ignite in his chest. He turned to face Trip, his eyes blazing.
Vikram: Shut up! You don't know anything!
Trip looked him straight in the eyes, his tone mocking.
Trip: I didn't know humans could hate each other so much for feeling a little pleasure when you please them properly.
His voice grew deeper, more intense.
Trip: You want to leave here dead? Go ahead, human.
And then he turned away, his back to Vikram. As if his voice alone were enough to command the space.
Vikram clenched his hands into fists. He felt his blood boil beneath his skin. His breathing quickened. Not from fear. From frustration. From rage. From not understanding himself. From not being able to scream what he felt without someone else interrupting him.
"Why are you butting in? This isn't your conversation. I don't mind you listening. But it's not yours. It's not yours."
Trip: See? That's why I like you. Because you don't know if you want to run away... or stay.
Bi didn't look at him. She just swirled her glass silently, as if Trip's venom didn't deserve a response. But her jaw was tight. She was tasting it too. She knew it. And that enraged him even more.
"Does everyone here know more about me than I do? What if it's true? What if my body has already chosen before I have?"
The warm light flickered for a second. As if the place itself were also questioning what was happening.
Vikram clenched his fists. His breathing was rapid and hot. Trip still had his back to him, but his voice had left its mark.
Vikram: And what do you know? What do you know about what I feel? All you know is destruction!
Trip turned slowly, resting an arm on the bed. He looked directly at him.
Trip: Destroy? No. I reveal. What you hide. What you pretend not to enjoy.
Vikram: Shut your mouth! You know nothing about me!
Trip: I know how you tremble when you're touched. I know how you surrender when you're penetrated. I know how your body craves more even though your mouth says no.
Vikram took a step forward, as if he were going to hit him. Bi moved quickly, placing herself between them.
Bi: Stop! This isn't a fight. Vikram needs to understand himself, not be pushed around again.
Trip didn't look at her. His voice rose, deep and sharp.
Trip: Then let him understand once and for all! Let him stop hiding behind his pride! Let him say what he wants!
Bi remained still. Not out of fear. As a strategy. She knew that if she intervened further, Vikram wouldn't speak. And that was what Trip wanted: for him to speak. To break down. To reveal himself.
Vikram trembled. Not from fear. From rage. From shame. From desire. From all of them together.
"What if he's right? What if everything I feel... is mine? What if I can't blame him anymore?"
The light flickered again. The air grew thicker. As if Silent Hill, too, awaited his answer.
"I think this is too much for him," Bi thought.
She approached slowly, silently, as if afraid that any movement might break him further. She gently took his shoulders, and he didn't resist. He just lowered his gaze, as if the ground were the only safe place.
He was going to take him out of the room so he wouldn't feel any more pressured.
As they started walking, Trip saw them and spoke with a tone of annoyance and confusion:
Trip: Don't keep denying it, Vikram.
Vikram let out a loud sigh, like a frustrated bull. He hugged himself, his hands on his shoulders, as if trying to contain something that no longer fit inside.
Bi turned to look at him, not seriously, but angrily. Trip understood instantly. He remained silent.
Bi led him out of the room, step by step, into the hallway. The light was dim. The echo of his footsteps mingled with the silence of Silent Hill, where the fog seemed to observe without intervening. Farther on, a light flickered intermittently, as if unsure whether to stay on.
The air smelled of chlorine, of dampness, and of something else. Something unsettling. Perhaps Vikram's sweat, mingled with the memory of what had happened. Perhaps the weight of what remained unspoken.
Bi: You don't have to be strong all the time, Vikram, she said softly. I'm here for you.
Vikram sighed with relief. Getting out of that place was right. But not enough.
Bi: I know you're a strong man... But you don't have to be all the time. I also know you won't want to hear what I'm about to say, but you have to. Just let yourself be carried away by it...
Vikram groaned softly, speechless. He crossed his arms, leaning against the wall. He turned his gaze away, toward the flickering light. But he was listening. Even though he didn't want to.
"Why doesn't he leave? Why does he insist? Why do I feel like if I keep listening... I'm going to break?"
Bi: Your mind and body wanted it... —she pointed at him, gently touching his chest. Her fingers paused a second before touching him, as if asking permission without saying a word— I don't want you to admit you liked it. That's not for me to do. Only you can control your body. Neither of us controls it. If you felt pleasure in that act, you shouldn't deny it. Don't repress yourself.
She guided her hands to Vikram's cheeks. She turned his face toward her. He didn't resist. He looked her straight in the eyes, his eyebrows lowered and furrowed. Angry. But present.
Bi: Don't repress what you feel.
She caressed his cheek. He trembled slightly. He said nothing.
Bi: You decide what your mind and body need.
"What if they've already decided without me?"
Vikram looked at her. He didn't look away this time. His eyes were still tense, but something in them had given way. Not completely. Just a crack. Barely visible. But real.
Vikram: What if I don't want to feel it? What if I don't want to like it? What if I don't want to be that kind of person?
His voice wasn't loud. It wasn't a shout. It was a whisper filled with rage. With fear. With shame.
Vikram: I don't want to be dominated. I don't want my body to decide for me. I don't want to...
He stopped. He closed his eyes. He swallowed.
Vikram: But it did. Didn't it?
Bi didn't answer. She just looked at him. Steady. Present. Her hand still on her cheek.
Vikram: What am I supposed to do about that? How am I supposed to live with that?
His voice trembled at the end. Barely. But it was enough. The silence of the hallway enveloped him like a heavy blanket. And for the first time, Vikram didn't move. Didn't run away. Didn't scream. He just stayed there. Breathing. Trembling.
Bi said nothing. She just hugged him. Not with pity. With presence. With that calm that doesn't demand, that doesn't push. It just holds.
Vikram didn't hug her back. But he didn't pull away either. He stayed still. Trembling. Breathing.
"Why doesn't she leave? Why doesn't she leave me alone? Why can't I hate her?"
That's when a figure appeared at the end of the hallway.
Trip.
Covered in a large, dark cloth that fell from his waist, concealing his body. He walked barefoot, unhurried. His pyramidal mask gleamed in the flickering light of the hallway.
He stopped when he saw them. He said nothing at first. He just watched them.
Vikram noticed. And looked away in annoyance, as if his mere presence reminded him of everything he didn't want to feel.
Trip noticed. And for once, he didn't approach to provoke.
Trip: I didn't come here to mess with you.
His voice was lower. More human. Still deep, but without the edge.
Trip: I shouldn't have yelled at you. Or said what I said. I went too far.
Bi didn't move. He just maintained the embrace. But his eyes were fixed on Trip, as if measuring every word.
Trip: I'm not good at this. At... talking. But I didn't want to break you. I just wanted you to stop lying to yourself.
Vikram didn't answer. But his breathing slowed. Heavier. As if something inside him was letting go.
Trip: That's it.
And without waiting for a reply, Trip turned away. He walked back down the corridor, his silhouette fading into the warm mist.
He was gone.
Bi released the breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. He gently stroked Vikram's back.
Bi: You're not alone. Or broken. You're just... feeling.
And for the first time, Vikram didn't argue.
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Author: Waiter, I'll have another break 🥃🍻 Bring me your best beer. Or a room with you... —I couldn't finish speaking, because he threw a spatula at me, and it hit me directly in the forehead. The pain was excruciating.
Waiter: That won't happen. And reader... don't forget to leave your vote or a comment —The waiter said, wiping a glass, while ignoring me.