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“I want my girlfriend to make room for all the light that hides behind her shadows.”

My vision blurred again, and in that moment, I wished I could see myself through his eyes, even if only for a few seconds.

“Water, Mady...” He dipped his hand deep into the tub, and when he pulled it out again, the water ran down his fingers and back into the tub. “Your tears are nothing but water.” I looked down at the reflection of my body. “It surrounds you, protects you, cleanses you. Just like every tear you shed.” I looked up at Nash desperately. “They carry your pain away from you.”

Nash pulled me closer to him.

“My sunshine girl,” he whispered. “Come on. I know you're strong.”

As he brushed his lips against mine, the first tear rolled down my cheek. An overwhelming feeling washed over me. Goosebumps spread across my body.

Another tear fell, and he deepened the kiss, gently licking the salt from my lips, kissing the pain away.

I knelt in front of him with my legs spread, leaning closer to him. He slid further back, forcing me to bend over him to keep kissing him. Another tear and I was already lying on his chest. When I opened my eyes, I paused.

“You're crying...” I said in disbelief, which caused me and him to shed another tear.

His whole face was glossy, his eyelashes studded with tiny pearls.

Nash smiled softly.

“I'm crying. For you.”

I sighed, overwhelmed, and more tears burst out of me.

Nash kissed me again, pulled me completely onto him, caressed me gently and, for a fraction of my life, made me feel like I was actually strong.

A deafening beeping sound made me jerk my head back.

Six Feet Under

Billie Eilish

I opened my eyes wide.

“Nash...” I whispered, and the painful memories hit me like a ton of bricks.

I was lying in bed.

Nash was no longer there. He hadn’t been for a long time.

With my heart beating weakly, I looked at the wall in front of me, which had turned into an oversized pinboard over the last few weeks.

“Ezra...” I sighed and hated myself for not feeling as much pain as the dream had caused.

With great effort, I sat up, turned off my brother's alarm clock, and pulled away his gray blanket, which was stained with milk and tiny blood spots. Then I shuffled past the pin wall to his closet mirror.

His dark gray hoodies, as well as the black ones with the classic Vanderwood logo, were much too big for me. But maybe I had just lost too much weight.

I turned away, left the room, and went downstairs to the kitchen to prepare the disgusting tea I drank every morning, as if it would actually protect me from what had happened to my brother. At least it distracted me from going into the bathroom, kept me away from the medicine cabinet and Ezra's razor blades.

Trying to block out the chaos downstairs, I stumbled over the carpet in the living room, the edge of which, as so often, had rolled up. I was about to fold it back down when my eyes fell on the dark red stain that I had never noticed before, until a month ago.

I stared at the spot with a stubborn intensity.

Mom must have spilled wine here... back then.

I folded the edge back and made my way to my own room, where a half-finished box of cornflakes must still be somewhere. The milk had run out two weeks ago, but it made no difference whether my cornflakes were crunchy or soggy. Either way, I could hardly swallow them.