You walked into the science room late, the overhead lights buzzing faintly, glass beakers catching the glow. At first you thought the room was empty, but then you heard it: the soft, uneven sound of someone trying and failing to hold back tears.

Agnes was curled in the far corner, knees drawn up, her face buried against her arms. Her shoulders shook with every sharp inhale.

She did not notice you at first. Or maybe she did and did not care. Her outline flickered faint, as though her body could not decide whether to remain or vanish.

The words still rang in her head, every syllable etched into her chest like a knife mark. She had not even known it was Enid inside Wednesday’s body, and perhaps that made it worse. Because to her ears it had been Wednesday—her Wednesday—spitting the words like poison.

A sycophantic loser. A tool I use when it is convenient. Nothing more. We are not friends. We will never be friends. I wish you would just stay invisible forever.

Her nails bit into her skin as she pressed her fists tight against her arms. She had wanted so badly to believe she mattered, that her loyalty meant something, that she was more than a shadow following behind. Instead, she had been shoved back into that shadow, told to rot there.

You approached quietly, and her voice broke before you even touched her.

“I’m fine.” Agnes whispered, her throat raw.