Solitude.

"Can I take the car?"

He stands in the middle of the hall ready and barely waiting for Anelise' permission. The girl crossed her arms over her chest and looks at him warily. In the next room, Anka and Cody are sitting on the floor playing a game only they know, throwing homemade cards back and forth. In the kitchen, the elders are working on dinner. They all had a hard day today, so this moment of rest was precious to them.

"Of course you can, but what for?" Anelise replies, facing Amos and blocking the exit.

"I want to check one place," shrugging his shoulder, Amos says. "To make sure that everything is okay." He looks at the girl in anticipation. This excuse sounds unconvincing, but Anelise decides not to push any further.

"Alright, but it's getting dark, so don't be long," she sighs and goes into the kitchen to help the others.

Amos rushes into the living room and takes the keys from a hook on the wall, he can feel this growing itch under his skin and know he had to hurry. Anka and Cody stop their game, turning their attention to him.

"Where are you going?" Cody asks, looking at him with pure curiosity.

"It's none of your business," he replays sharply, leaving the room before they or Anka could say anything.

He doesn't want to be so bitter but he has no other choice but to push away all of them. It's for the better he convinces himself.

Anelise one day looked at him sadly and said "You really changed. I can't understand you. I can't figure out what you're really thinking anymore."

"Maybe because I'm not a kid anymore, that used to cling to you all the time."

"No, it's different, Marqus." His old name cut into his ears, pierced into his skull, twisted like a screw into a loose old hole that it could no longer hold on to because the threads were frayed. He was too used to being called Amos that sometimes he forgot that there had been someone else before. That someone was a stranger to him.

They never returned to that conversation again.

He drives, discerning the road ahead in the thickening dusk in the light of the faint headlights. That road has been ridden by wheels for years, as people have decided that these areas are suitable and safe enough to live in. Travelling between distant settlements on foot was difficult and dangerous, so Amos was glad that his group had this extremely rare opportunity to not be restrained from it. Moving south, he slowly approached the border of the city, beyond which there was nothing but a sliver of road and desolate parched fields. When the town was far behind him, he kept going until it was completely dark and the fields on the sides of the road were replaced by a spreading wild forest. That is where he was heading.

When he stopped in front of the line of trees, he switched off the engine and sat like that for a while, clutching his knuckles to the steering wheel, his head down and his eyes closed. Sometimes it was all too much for him to bear.

It was even darker beneath the broad crowns, as if they were taking in all the moonlight like a fisherman's interwoven net. The dried and fallen pine needles crunches beneath his feet, the sprawling grass stroking his ankles with every step, parting like deep sea waves.

He doesn't know what he was looking for here, in the silence of this forest.

He waited for the blood, but it didn't come out. He waited for the digging nails to pierce his skin, and then he would feel the heat running down his arms. His fingers loosened the tight grip and only then did his senses return to him. The whole world shimmered around him as the fog cleared. The outlines became brighter and more distinct and he recognised the body lying beneath him. Lifeless, it slowly grew cold. He knew who it belonged to. He knew it would be useless to check for a pulse, and he didn't dare touch it again.

He rose on trembling legs and tried to move away from the body. He turned so that he could no longer see his hands work. He was shaking like a fever and his body wouldn't listen, so he collapsed to the floor again without taking even two steps. Behind him, dead grey eyes stared back at him as its head that lost his grip turned on the side.

He heard sighs, hoarse and short, felt the hands on his fingers that fought, trying to free themselves, felt the body beneath him kicking and thrashing. How nothing helped. How he didn't realise what he was doing.

He threw up. His stomach had been empty since yesterday, so all that rose to his throat and left bitterly on his lips was bile. His eyes stung as if ashes had been poured into them, but stubbornly the tears wouldn't come. His hands trembled, trying to unzip his jacket. He was hot.

He knew he had now come to the point of no return. Everything had shattered around him like a jigsaw puzzle someone had dropped on the floor, fell apart into pieces he would no longer be able to put back together no matter how hard he tried.

He'd be glad if there would be blood. That way everyone would know he was tainted.

The trees parted before him, revealing a small clearing of grass and flowers he couldn't name. It was empty enough, he thought to himself as he sat down on the ground. It was lonely enough that no one would hear him. In this silence, he could do whatever he wants.

For, as you know, if a tree falls in the forest when no one is around, does it make a sound?

He leaned closer, his gentle fox-like eyes watching his movements cautiously but interested.

"Are you sure this will work?" Orin finally asked.

"No, but it's best to try it and see if it works."

He received a vague hum in response and the shadow covering the sun for him disappeared. He'd been fiddling with an old radio for about an hour now, sitting on the dusty floor of an abandoned hardware shop. Sunlight pours into the room through the ruined walls and dust dances in the air, disturbed by their movements. Orin walks between the rows of broken appliances with the curiosity of a child who has never seen a television in his life, examining everything in sight. He picks up stored items from the shelves and twirls them in his hands, looking at them from every angle as if they are about to reveal the secrets of the universe to him.

Amos hopes that his knowledge is enough to make this radio finally work. It would be nice to catch a signal from a nearby settlements, if any of the people who lived there had a radio. He's not sure exactly how far away they are from his group now, but he knows exactly what signal and frequency they use. Getting help from outside doesn't seem like such a bad idea.

Orin walks back over and sits down next to him, wrapping his arms around his knees.

The radio briefly begins to hiss and then goes silent.

"Maybe we should see if there's any food supplies around here, clearly better than nothing."

Amos sighs.

The pain is calming. At least this way it still helps him. He rubs his pulsating arm, running his fingers between the teeth marks on the smooth skin. That way at least there wouldn't be any scars he'd have to hide from the others. Bruises are much easier to explain.

He knows what he needs to do to stop it for once and for all. To make this guilt that's been eating away at him finally recede. So that he can finally find the peace he doesn't deserve. He knows the way out and he can't choose it, he's not Terrell. He has no right to repeat someone else's mistakes, he's got enough of his own.

"Tell me, do I look like him?"

"What do you mean?"

"When you look into my eyes, do you see him?"

She doesn't answer, turning her gaze away.

His hands are actually soft, gently cupping his face with the palms under his chin, running the fingertips over his cheekbones. Soothing. Holding him in this place, this point in the moment between the seconds on the world's clock. Declare his choice.

"Tell me no," the look of doubt and fear in his eyes.

"No."

The touch is gone immediately as Orin leans backwards again, hands let go of his cheeks.

"W-wait, I mean... I won't tell you no. Y-yes. Yes. I want you to do it. Please," he didn't recognise his own voice, not aware of the words slipping from his tongue.

Orin smiles lightly and he leans closer again, lips meeting Amos's own. It's so simple. One movement that cuts the threads that entangled him. Kicks him in the arse, turns his head. Snapping his life in half, as if the many shards he keeps trying to reassemble a stained-glass window weren't enough.

He answers the kiss and lets himself let go of everything else for the first time.

He gets back much later than promised, when dawn cuts the sky and the world slowly becomes brighter. He leaves keys in the usual place and goes to the stairs to the second floor, so that he can sleep for a few hours, or at least pretend that he was asleep. As he is about to start walking up the stairs, he hears a knock on the door

Sighing, he turns around and walks to the door, wondering in his mind who could have arrived so early, and whether he had overlooked the group's plans for the day.

He opens the door.

"I need to see Anka. I know she's here."