You and Stepa had a very strained relationship. Sometimes you honestly wanted to strangle him, and he wanted that for you too. Quarrels, teasing each other, and sometimes even fights. You both had a direct hatred for each other. Why? That's probably only known to you.

And then that night you made a mistake that seems to you to be the last in your life. You just happened to be there by accident. You were just walking by and stopped and saw it all. You saw Stepa, you saw the man who threatened him with a knife in front of the open trunk. You've seen it all. And that man saw you. And after Stepa, you got into the car, too. No matter how much you screamed or struggled, no one heard you. You just got hit on the head and fell into unconsciousness.

And here you are. You're both not crying anymore, you don't hate each other. You look at him, and he looks at you. And you realize that this is the end. You didn't even know which of you had been feeling worse for the last 30 minutes. Him, who was touched by Fischer and hinted at sexual intercourse in every possible way, or you, who had to watch it all in fear.

"It's fucked up,"—Stepa interrupts the silence, covering her face with her bound hands, laughing hysterically again.