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— I want to tell you something… — Emma repeated, swallowing hard. Her voice trembled, but she kept going, feeling a strange tension building inside her. She didn’t know why she suddenly decided to say it. Maybe it was this empty room with the terrifying jester, or maybe it was the way Dan was looking at her — too close, too deep, like he could see right through her.
— Dan… — Her fingers clenched the strap of her backpack. — I… I know this will sound stupid. Or crazy. But I… — She froze, struggling to find the words. Her chest tightened. Say it out loud? Now?
But something inside demanded the truth.
— I… It’s not me, Dan, — she whispered, looking him straight in the eyes. — I… I’m not Emma. I mean… — She faltered, trying to steady her breathing, then glanced at the painted jester, who seemed to be grinning even wider, though the image hadn’t changed. 'To hell with that jester! I need to do this!' the thought flashed in her mind before the words slipped out, slow and strained:
— I… I was… — her voice grew hoarse, — a man. In the past, before… I don’t know, damn it, I don’t know how it happened. But it’s true. And that jester... — She gasped for breath, unable to say more. The words caught in her throat, thoughts tangled. It all felt so insane that she was ready not to believe herself.
Dan frowned. His eyes narrowed slightly, and a shadow of contemplation crossed his lips. He stayed silent, as if weighing her words, but there was something… strange in that silence. At least, that’s how it seemed to Emma. The seconds stretched on until finally, he nodded.
— Yeah… of course I remember. You… already said that, — he began quietly, his voice unexpectedly gentle. — At the start of the year. After break. You… said it in front of everyone. About being… some Mark? Or… a guy in a girl’s body? — He spoke cautiously, as if afraid to hurt her, but a trace of awkwardness slipped into his tone, something he was trying to hide. — And then everyone started… well, you know.
He didn’t finish, but Emma knew exactly what he meant.
"The teasing. 'Crazy Em,' the whispers, the mockery…" The thoughts burned as her throat tightened again. Her fingers trembled, and in her mind echoed, 'Damn it, why am I bringing this up again? It’ll just make everything worse…'
Mark clenched his teeth, feeling his heart pounding in his throat. 'Why did I even say it? But screw it, I’m a man, and if I started this, I’m not stopping halfway!'
Dan could see Emma was clearly distressed. His lips twitched into a thin, almost imperceptible smile, but it disappeared just as quickly, as if he forced himself back to seriousness. A slight movement of his eyebrows, a faint loosening in his shoulders — Mark might have noticed it before, but now he felt too vulnerable, his gaze fixed somewhere else.
— I… I’m not making this up, Dan! — The words burst from her lips louder than she intended. — I’m not… this isn’t some teenage fantasy! It’s real, do you get that?! — Her voice shook, but inside, desperation flared, mixed with a heat driving her forward despite everything. — I was a grown man! I lived my life… and then… — She swallowed hard, gritting her teeth to hold back the tears, but her voice still cracked. — Then I just… woke up like this! In the house of my… ex-girlfriend, who now thinks I’m her damn daughter! And no one… no one, for god’s sake, believes me!
— I believe you.
The words were quiet but certain, slicing through the tense silence between them.
Mark froze, his lips parting slightly as he jerked his gaze up, searching Dan’s face for something — mockery, deception, anything that would give away a lie. But Dan was looking at him… no, at her, at Emma — calm, serious, like he actually meant it.
— What? — Emma’s voice cracked, and she blinked, the lump in her throat growing heavier.
Dan nodded, meeting her eyes.
— I know how it sounds, but… — He took a step closer, his voice lowering, almost intimate. — I’ve had… something similar.
— W-what? — Emma instinctively stepped back, but not firmly, as if unsure now.
Dan exhaled deeply, lowering his gaze.
— It started last year. — His voice was low, deliberate, but Mark caught a subtle flicker — a hint of cunning, maybe? — beneath it. — I kept having these dreams. The same one, over and over. This jester… — he gestured toward the drawing on the wall — he was there. He spoke to me. Laughed. Asked me… what I really wanted.
— He… spoke? — Emma’s head snapped up, her heart racing faster.
— Not exactly with words, more like… thoughts. He was just there. — Dan spoke slowly, as if choosing his words carefully, but there was something about his tone — like he already knew what he was doing. — At first, I thought it was just stupid. But then… then I drew it. I told you before. I didn’t even know why. This figure… — his hand lifted slightly, almost casually — I couldn’t get it out of my head. I tried to ignore it, but the more I did, the clearer he became. So I figured… I had to draw him.