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Emma burst into the hallway, slamming the door so hard the walls seemed to tremble. The echoing thud rang in her ears, but it was nothing compared to the deafening roar inside her head.
"Idiot! Stupid, self-absorbed... What was I even expecting? That he'd believe me? That anyone would?!" — Mark raged inside, screaming, but in the chest spread only a furious, burning humiliation. Emma ran, not even noticing where her legs were carrying her. Stairs, turns of corridors — everything blurred together. The world before her eyes trembled, blurred, as if someone had smeared paint across glass.
"How... how stupid this all is! Idiot, damn idiot! How can someone be so stupid?!" — Mark berated himself furiously, gritting his teeth and pressing his palm against his chest, where everything ached painfully, as if someone had clenched his heart with icy fingers. "No! Men don't cry! Get it together! You're strong!"
But body no longer listened. The tears were already flowing, hot, uncontrollable, streaking her flushed cheeks as she ran, breathing unevenly, lips trembling. From the outside, it looked like a vulnerable girl running away, completely shattered — hunched shoulders, ragged breathing, tears that wouldn't stop despite the desperate attempts to wipe them away with shaking fingers.
"You're not weak. You... you're Mark, for God's sake! Hold on... Just hold on!"
Suddenly, she found herself outside, not even realizing how she'd made it out of the building. The cool air stung her face, yet the tears kept streaming, hot, betraying her. The world around her swam, distorted behind the blurry veil. Her heart pounded so loudly it felt like its echo reverberated in an empty, abandoned stadium.
She collapsed onto a bench, curling into herself, pressing her palms to her face, breathing heavily. Her throat clenched, but the words escaped on their own, broken, fragile:
— I... I just wanted someone to understand...
Her voice was raw, almost hoarse, trembling like a snapped string, slipping into a whisper one moment, then rising into a sharp, painful cry. But around her, there was only silence.
Emma sucked in a shaky breath, trying to suppress it all — the lump in her throat, the trembling hands, this pitiful betrayal of her own body. "Enough! Pull yourself together! Breathe evenly... Just calm down..." — Mark's voice was harsher, more demanding now, but each ragged breath only fueled the throbbing ache in her chest. He forced himself to close his eyes, clenched his teeth until his jaw ached, but the tears still wouldn't stop. "You're strong... You're a man... Just... just stop... you're not some lovesick schoolgirl who—"
Emma abruptly cut off her thought — her eyes widened in surprise, as if realizing something, and her mouth opened, unable to control her emotions:
— A-ah! Damn it! No! It's not true! It's not true! — Emma's scream tore through the quiet, sharp and desperate as she stomped her foot hard, as if trying to physically force the realization out of herself, to expel it. She froze abruptly, her beautiful eyes, framed by long lashes, staring up into the blue sky.
The tears came again, hot, relentless. Her cheeks burned, but she couldn't stop. Mark, who had always been strong, always in control, was now sobbing. In the body of a fragile, terrified girl.
— Why... why is everything like this?.. — the words broke from her lips, barely audible, a cracked, trembling whisper. She gripped her shoulders tightly, as if trying to hold herself together, to stop this chaos inside. — I... I didn't ask for this...
"It's what you wanted, isn't it?" — the voice inside hissed, venomous, sharp, digging into her mind. — "Remember? In the kitchen. You said it yourself. You wanted to be taken seriously. Wanted to be an adult. And now... you are. Isn't this exactly what you asked for?"
Emma let out a strangled sob, shaking her head as if trying to shake those words loose, to silence that hateful voice.
— No! I'm not... I'm not Emma... — the words spilled from her lips, but the more desperately she repeated them, the weaker her protest sounded.
As if something broke. In her. In him.
"And what if... if they're all right? What if I just made this up? What if I... was never really Mark? Maybe... I only wished it? After all... it was me. I was the one who..."
The thought burned, like an icy needle piercing her mind. Her chest tightened, breath hitching, as if invisible hands had clutched her from within.
Her palms trembled as she touched her face. Soft, smooth skin. Her own. Her own. But... what was it like before? How did it feel?
"Not like this... it wasn’t like this, was it?" — the strange question surfaced suddenly. "No... Mark’s skin was... rougher... like... like Dan’s."
The memory flared too vividly. Dan. His stubble, scratchy, unpleasant, grazing her cheek. That sensation mixed, strangely, with a breath-stealing tension — embarrassing, painfully tender, making her heart skip for a moment before pounding even harder.
"God, why the hell is this coming up now?!" — flashed through her mind, and her cheeks instantly flushed with heat, betraying her confusion.
She exhaled sharply, trying to drive the feelings away, to suppress them along with the chaos twisting inside. "No, stop. This is bullshit!" — she reached frantically for her backpack, intending to grab her book, to pour her anger, her fear into it, anything to get a grip — but... the book wasn’t there.
And then she remembered. Clearly. How it had slipped from her hands and fallen to the floor. There... in the room. Near Dan’s feet.
— Damn... — she whispered under her breath. Her body sagged, shoulders slumping as Emma simply sat there, staring into space. Her gaze unfocused, her thoughts blurred, as if someone had smeared them with rough brushstrokes. Inside, there was only emptiness, a weight pressing on her chest, and a strange ringing in her ears. It felt like something important had just happened, something sudden and overwhelming, yet it had left behind a feeling as if she had just understood... something vital.
Minutes passed before she drew a shaky breath and mechanically pulled her phone from her pocket. The screen lit up, illuminating her tired face. A few new messages from her mom:
Emma, where are you? You promised to be home early.
Are you okay? You're not answering.
Call me when you can. Love you.
Emma stared bitterly at the screen. Her lips trembled, twisting into something like a smile — awkward, bitter. "Love you"... How strange those words felt when she felt so... lost.
Her thoughts drifted back, slowly, with effort, pulling her out of the warmth left by her mom’s message. "The book. I need to get the book."
At first, she jerked as if ready to rush back immediately, but stopped herself. Dan was still there. And that simple realization made her hesitate. Made her think. But the longer she thought, the clearer the image became: the dusty floor, the dark cover, that stupid jester’s grin... and her words. Those stupid, crazy words she had said to Dan.
Her cheeks burned as if she’d been slapped. "Oh God, I... I really said all that? How... how could I?! That was so... so stupid!"
But shame was quickly followed by another thought.
"No. Stop. This isn’t my fault. He... he was being an asshole! He pretended to believe me just to... just to..."
Her grip tightened around the phone. Anger stirred, hot but muffled, like it was trapped under layers of cotton. Not the wild outburst she expected — heavier, thicker, stuck inside.
"The book... I need to get the book."
And yet, something still kept her frozen in place.
"Damn it. But if I go back... I... he’ll see me like this. See how... pathetic I look."
She clenched her jaw and gripped the phone tighter until her knuckles went white.
"To hell with him. He's an idiot. The book. Get the book. Sort this out. Forget Dan. Just... just do it and leave."