─ An old abandoned farmhouse on the outskirts of Jackson. My breathing became shallow. The air grew heavier and heavier. My heart began to pound. The muffled music penetrated my ears as, to the creaking of the wooden floors, I entered the house. The door moved noisily at my touch, though it elicited no reaction from anyone present. The living room was empty. A long hallway hinted at the entrance to hell. Red lights adorned the entire farmhouse.

I took a quick look around me. Old tables littered with empty beer bottles, cigarette butts, playing cards scattered here and there. My head whirled. 'Breathe, Ellie,' I told myself, while the plaid shirt felt too tight. The cut on my lip began to burn. My legs moved unevenly along the temptation. Once again the words I didn't have the courage to say, but which I thought over and over, burned my throat: 'You shouldn't be here.'

My fingers trembled. Someone shoved me with a shoulder to make a breakthrough along the room. Drunk as a thief, some men pushed against women to pull them close and give each other emulsions. The idea disgusted me. In my life, I'd only been lucky enough to caress and embrace one pair of hips. Round, soft. Skin as white as milk. The scent of sugar, intense. Just imagining it made me lose my mind. Soft hair made my lips part. Across the room, a drink in her hand, a slender back and fabulous thighs caught my eye. I walked with difficulty. My brain didn't react. I looked for her everywhere, even where I shouldn't have. I breathed heavily. I touched her right shoulder blade. She turned toward me and looked at me with feline eyes. Her gaze was confused, yet pleased. A cigarette between her lips. It wasn't her. I would have recognized my little girl anywhere.

The stress of patrols, the melancholy of Joel's death, were all things that pushed me to face my greatest sin. Her presence killed me. She pushed an invisible blade into me at the sight of her body, which I remembered perfectly as if it were yesterday. Her small fingers had pushed me away from her body too many times. Her eyes filled with tears, lips filled with sharp words. 'Let me go' or 'I don't want to be here anymore,' she had repeated over and over again, because of my thirst for revenge that had stolen everything from me: my reason, my feelings.

Then I saw her there, against the wall of the women's bathroom. Her laughter echoed throughout the room. She was talking to someone. My shoes made enough noise to attract her attention. 'Breathe softly, or she'll hear you,' I said to myself. Yet her eyes had settled on me anyway, like a poison and an antidote at the same time. A hand in her soft hair and I would have lifted my curse forever. I slowly approached, but she moved away. Her features hardened. Her doe eyes looked at me from beneath dark lashes. She looked at me, fragile, fearful. And I longed to have her with me again. The lights began to flicker. She trembled against the wall, and I pushed against her, grabbing her waist. She turned her head so as not to look at me, but her lips brushed my jaw. From her sugary mouth came a fragile: "What would people say if they listened through the walls?"

But from my lips came a hoarse sound, almost inaudible, but it vibrated in my chest. Her body heated up, and as soon as I moved to push her close enough to the wall, the back of her head hit it, a gesture of denial. And then I insisted, undaunted: "Let them listen." My lips trembled. I caressed her hair as if it were golden locks. I felt her shiver beneath my body, a little embarrassed, but disappointed by my actions. She felt relieved to see me there, but hurt by the past.

"Do you think I don't know you come here hoping to find me, every night?" My voice cut the silence. The lights dimmed. Her eyelids grew so large they almost seemed to swallow me. The music stopped abruptly. The sound of a glass bottle shattering startled her, and between the din of the loud music and the flickering lights, I saw her flee once again toward the living room. Leaving me nothing. Because that's what i was.