The boss lady is getting angry. She's been agitated a lot lately. She's sad, feeling like she's nothing—like she's not important. Left out. It's unnecessary and highly irritating.

The boss lady doesn't look happy anymore.

Vivian isn't as lively. His condition deteriorates with every passing minute. He won't talk to the boss lady anymore, making her angry. Making her sad. She destroyed her office.

Vivian just lies on the ground, staring at the ceiling. Immobile from pain. Seeing beautiful things sometimes helps. But too much pain makes him shut down.

I can't talk to him anymore. He has no energy to speak.

The boss lady keeps staring at him.

Door #3—people come in every day now.

Vivian's heart isn't as strong as it used to be.

I wonder when the cute animals will come out.

It's getting hard to breathe. But I can still breathe.

The boss lady's eyes are all over Vivian.

What will she do?

Vivian's body lies still on the ground, his stomach rising and falling slightly—proof of life.

It's been tough on his boss. She has to feed him through a tube since he won't eat on his own. If he opens his mouth too wide, he cries in pain, making animalistic sounds, pleading for her to stop.

She misses his voice. She misses his shyness. She misses his softness. She misses his drawings.

She's scared she's killing him. Scared he's fading away. Scared other forces might try to take him from her.

She won't leave him. She'll do everything to make him strong again. Strong enough to walk, to talk. But not too strong. Not stronger than her.

Sometimes, he reaches out for something she can't see.

She hears him mumbling softly.

Why won't he mumble to her? Why won't he try to talk to her? Why won't he look at her?

His eyes have lost their glow. Darker now. Slightly less empty, but heavier.

She's growing more and more concerned. Maybe if she gives him real food, untainted, he'll be okay?

But why now? Wasn't he fine before?

Why is it affecting them all now?

His fainting spells used to be monthly. Then every other day. Now, it's every day.

The Door #3 people aren't fixing him. That angers her. She told them to fix him. Not make him worse. She calls them again and again, setting up appointments, having them pick him up. But nothing changes.

Her stress spills out into the room. The wreckage surrounds her. She tore everything apart, ripped everything to shreds—except for the space around Vivian. She won't let her rage touch him.

Vivian sees blue grass growing out of the rug now. That's the color of grass, right? And a field of flowers, so pretty. Cute-faced skaters gliding by. He feels at peace.

He's so happy to be outside. A cool breeze brushes against him. Maybe he's by a beach. Oh, how he wants to swim. To feel the cool water on his skin. He'd get sand everywhere, but that's part of the fun.

A warm bath after, making his body smooth.

He doesn't mind the field. He enjoys it. He sees green birds with three heads flying by.

So beautiful. So perfect. So pleasant.

It makes him want to sleep. But not yet. Not when it's this beautiful. Maybe he'll enjoy it a little longer.

Now that I think about it... I don't know the boss lady's name.

I don't remember ever calling her by a name.

Does she have one? Or is it just "boss lady?"

It would be funny if she changed her name to that.

Sounds like power. Authority.

Cool, but sad. Doesn't she want to be called by something real?

All I see is black now. The world is full of faded, deformed shapes.

I can't see Vivian clearly anymore.

That must mean he can't see clearly either.

I hope he's okay. I hope his boss isn't hurting him.

I hope he's safe.

I hope we're okay.

Seeing nothing but darkness can be calming. But when you open your eyes, it feels like they're still closed.

Like you can see but not see. Like night vision, like a superpower.

It feels nice. But when you need to see something—something important—the darkness is terrifying.

When you lose something in the dark, the panic sets in.

Losing control brings fear. But why does control matter?

Why does it matter so much to hold the reins?

It's okay to let go. To drift. To stop fighting.

One day, we will be free.

Freedom means something different to May. The same destination, different paths.

For some, freedom is walking home alone after school.

For others, it's stepping outside after being locked away for too long.

Maybe it's telling someone you want to leave. That you refuse to stay in something toxic.

But the feeling is the same.

That lightness in the chest. That fleeting hope.

The moment your wings spread. The moment you breathe again.

I wonder when we'll have that feeling.

I believe it will be soon.