The man finally calms down, and the woman says, "I'm Sun-ja Hyung. I've been developing the lot behind the laundromat – this is Grandimir Petrovich. That boy – Jake – he attacked us. Dragged up to... Somewhere. And then he made us look."

Uneasy, Lily walks around behind the couch. "Does that have anything to do with the wires coming from your heads?"

"Wires?" Mr. Petrovich asks.

"I don't think you're seeing what we're seeing," Ms. Hyung says, and points in front of them, at the perfectly normal TV. "When you look there, what do you see – ?"

"A TV?" She squints anyways though. 

It's a TV! One that seems to be hooked up to the wires plugged into the two couch-sitters, but otherwise normal. Its screen shows only static, though.

The static moves. Writhes.

There's a shape within it.

Oh.

It's beautiful.

Lily can't help but stare, as the lime-green light flickers into the desaturated blue-grey of the world. She leans forward – the couch is in her way –

What's she's looking at – it's so much more beautiful than mere reality. It's everything she's ever wanted, twisted together and revealed in the light. It's hers, and so too is shown how to get everything she could possibly ever want – if only she will see –

She reaches. She can't not, not and remain herself. Her hands try to grab the thorny vines reaching for her.

The vines pass through her hand like ghosts of light.

And they aren't quite vines. They're moving, writhing, like snakes.

Except they can't be snakes.

Wrong teeth.

She shakes off the strange vertigo as she sees the new girl reach for – for –

Wait.

She starts running – she can't stop her.

"You're bleeding!" she screams, helplessly, "Stop, you're bleeding, you're going to die – or worse – "

She can't see the cause of the bleeds. It's not information her mind will let her acknowledge exists in the same reality as her.

But her clothes and hands exist in her reality. She takes her grandmother's scarf off, the last remnant she has, and without a second though she lunges for the girl's arm – she can't do anything to get in her way, she tries to keep pace, tries to put pressure on the holes, tries to stop the bleeding – she can't –

She doesn't hear.

But there's something in her arm – annoying, how can she reach for everything she deserves, everything she desires, with a bandage on her arm?

– Bandage?

There's blood on her arm, at her feet. There's a girl trying to wrestle some semblance of a bandage over – over –

There's wires sticking through Lily's arms. No. Thicker. Cords? Or – tendrils – they won't focus in Lily's mind – black, and there's static dripping with the blood –

Everything beautiful and desirable is still in front of her. Still in reach even of her mutilated arm, still shining green. She just needs to ignore the pain, just for a moment, needs to keep her eyes fixed on her goal –

What sort of person will she be, if she turns back now?

– A person who exists –

She closes her eyes. 

(She'll claim it was easy, some day. She'll never know if that's true or not.)

"My power is my own!" she snarls, or something in her does, wild and furious and burning. 

And then her knees buckle.

Oh thank fuck.

She drags the other girl the fuck away from the mysterious evil patch of air, hissing, "Close your eyes!" She needs to get something in between them, some visual barrier – looking started this, didn't it? There's basically just the couch, and it's far, still to close to – to – her head swims briefly – focus. 

She drags the other girl behind the couch, rips her shirt off over her head, balls it up to use as a better impromptu gauze – tries to put pressure on the puncture holes.

Her eyes were already closed, and, well, opening them won't be a problem.

She passes out.

 

LILY'S DREAM

AGE 7

 

Lily's sitting cross-legged on the dirt floor of her grandfather's workshop. She's scowling at the stupid broken pieces of a radio. She picks one up, turns it over in her hands.

It's just her and her grandfather right now, and he's given her the kind of half focused attention that feels more like freedom than neglect. The old lady who lives next door comes over in a few hours, and Lily abandons the stupid radio and goes to see if she brought any candies, and she gets teased for her light fingers even though she hasn't stolen anything in a whole week – that's then, though. Now, Lily's trying to fix something broken, and she's almost ready to ask for help.

Oh.

And her friend Petra. Her friend's here, too, but Lily can't ask her for help, even if it'd have felt less weird than asking her grandfather. Her friend wasn't here, the first time. She isn't here, not yet.

Her friend sits next to her anyways, looking curiously at the scattered pieces of radio. 

She hasn't heard this story yet. She's curious about Lily's grandfather; her own grandmother meant more to her than the world.  She doesn't say anything, though, because she isn't supposed to be here, not yet.